{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_55610/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_55610","id":"gutenberg_55610","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/55610","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Category: Politics","Liberty","Nobel Prizes in Literature","Property","Social problems","State, The","War"],"text":"WHY MEN FIGHT\n\n  _A METHOD OF ABOLISHING\n  THE INTERNATIONAL DUEL_\n\n\n  BY\n\n  BERTRAND RUSSELL, M.A., F.R.S.\n\n  Sometime Fellow and Lecturer in Trinity\n  College, Cambridge\n\n\n  [Illustration]\n\n\n  NEW YORK\n  THE CENTURY CO.\n  1920\n\n\n\n\n  Copyright, 1916, by\n  THE CENTURY CO.\n\n\n  _Published, January, 1917_\n\n\n\n\nLe souffle, le rhythme, la vraie force populaire manqua \u00e0 la r\u00e9action.\nElle eut les rois, les tr\u00e9sors, les arm\u00e9es; elle \u00e9crasa les peuples,\nmais elle resta muette. Elle tua en silence; elle ne put parler qu\u2019avec\nle canon sur ses horribles champs de bataille.... Tuer quinze millions\nd\u2019hommes par la faim et l\u2019\u00e9p\u00e9e, \u00e0 la bonne heure, cela se peut.\nMais faire un petit chant, un air aim\u00e9 de tous, voil\u00e0 ce que nulle\nmachination ne donnera.... Don r\u00e9serv\u00e9, b\u00e9ni.... Ce chant peut-\u00eatre \u00e0\nl\u2019aube jaillira d\u2019un c\u0153ur simple, ou l\u2019alouette le trouvera en montant\nau soleil, de son sillon d\u2019avril.\n\n            MICHELET.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\n  CHAPTER                                         PAGE\n     I  THE PRINCIPLE OF GROWTH                      3\n\n    II  THE STATE                                   42\n\n   III  WAR AS AN INSTITUTION                       79\n\n    IV  PROPERTY                                   117\n\n     V  EDUCATION                                  153\n\n    VI  MARRIAGE AND THE POPULATION QUESTION       182\n\n   VII  RELIGION AND THE CHURCHES                  215\n\n  VIII  WHAT WE CAN DO                             245\n\n\n\n\nWHY MEN FIGHT\n\n\n\n\nI\n\nTHE PRINCIPLE OF GROWTH\n\n\nTo all who are capable of new impressions and fresh thought, some\nmodification of former beliefs and hopes has been brought by the\nwar. What the modification has been has depended, in each case, upon\ncharacter and circumstance; but in one form or another it has been\nalmost universal. To me, the chief thing to be learnt through the war\nhas been a certain view of the springs of human action, what they are,\nand what we may legitimately hope that they will become. This view,\nif it is true, seems to afford a basis for political philosophy more\ncapable of standing erect in a time of crisis than the philosophy of\ntraditional Liberalism has shown itself to be. The following lectures,\nthough only one of them will deal with war, all are inspired by a view\nof the springs of action which has been suggested by the war. And all\nof them are informed by the hope of seeing such political institutions\nestablished in Europe as shall make men averse to war\u2014a hope which\nI firmly believe to be realizable, though not without a great and\nfundamental reconstruction of economic and social life.\n\nTo one who stands outside the cycle of beliefs and passions which\nmake the war seem necessary, an isolation, an almost unbearable\nseparation from the general activity, becomes unavoidable. At the\nvery moment when the universal disaster raises compassion in the\nhighest degree, compassion itself compels aloofness from the impulse\nto self-destruction which has swept over Europe. The helpless longing\nto save men from the ruin towards which they are hastening makes it\nnecessary to oppose the stream, to incur hostility, to be thought\nunfeeling, to lose for the moment the power of winning belief. It is\nimpossible to prevent others from feeling hostile, but it is possible\nto avoid any reciprocal hostility on one\u2019s own part, by imaginative\nunderstanding and the sympathy which grows out of it. And without\nunderstanding and sympathy it is impossible to find a cure for the evil\nfrom which the world is suffering.\n\nThere are two views of the war neither of which seems to me adequate.\nThe usual view in this country is that it is due to the wickedness\nof the Germans; the view of most pacifists is that it is due to\nthe diplomatic tangle and to the ambitions of Governments. I think\nboth these views fail to realize the extent to which war grows out\nof ordinary human nature. Germans, and also the men who compose\nGovernments, are on the whole average human beings, actuated by the\nsame passions that actuate others, not differing much from the rest of\nthe world except in their circumstances. War is accepted by men who\nare neither Germans nor diplomatists with a readiness, an acquiescence\nin untrue and inadequate reasons, which would not be possible if any\ndeep repugnance to war were widespread in other nations or classes.\nThe untrue things which men believe, and the true things which\nthey disbelieve, are an index to their impulses\u2014not necessarily to\nindividual impulses in each case (since beliefs are contagious), but to\nthe general impulses of the community. We all believe many things which\nwe have no good ground for believing, because, subconsciously, our\nnature craves certain kinds of action which these beliefs would render\nreasonable if they were true. Unfounded beliefs are the homage which\nimpulse pays to reason; and thus it is with the beliefs which, opposite\nbut similar, make men here and in Germany believe it their duty to\nprosecute the war.\n\nThe first thought which naturally occurs to one who accepts this view\nis that it would be well if men were more under the dominion of reason.\nWar, to those who see that it must necessarily do untold harm to all\nthe combatants, seems a mere madness, a collective insanity in which\nall that has been known in time of peace is forgotten. If impulses\nwere more controlled, if thought were less dominated by passion, men\nwould guard their minds against the approaches of war fever, and\ndisputes would be adjusted amicably. This is true, but it is not by\nitself sufficient. It is only those in whom the desire to think truly\nis itself a passion who will find this desire adequate to control the\npassions of war. Only passion can control passion, and only a contrary\nimpulse or desire can check impulse. Reason, as it is preached by\ntraditional moralists, is too negative, too little living, to make a\ngood life. It is not by reason alone that wars can be prevented, but by\na positive life of impulses and passions antagonistic to those that\nlead to war. It is the life of impulse that needs to be changed, not\nonly the life of conscious thought.\n\nAll human activity springs from two sources: impulse and desire. The\npart played by desire has always been sufficiently recognized. When men\nfind themselves not fully contented, and not able instantly to procure\nwhat will cause content, imagination brings before their minds the\nthought of things which they believe would make them happy. All desire\ninvolves an interval of time between the consciousness of a need and\nthe opportunity for satisfying it. The acts inspired by desire may be\nin themselves painful, the time before satisfaction can be achieved\nmay be very long, the object desired may be something outside our\nown lives, and even after our own death. Will, as a directing force,\nconsists mainly in following desires for more or less distant objects,\nin spite of the painfulness of the acts involved and the solicitations\nof incompatible but more immediate desires and impulses. All this is\nfamiliar, and political philosophy hitherto has been almost entirely\nbased upon desire as the source of human actions.\n\nBut desire governs no more than a part of human activity, and that not\nthe most important but only the more conscious, explicit, and civilized\npart.\n\nIn all the more instinctive part of our nature we are dominated by\nimpulses to certain kinds of activity, not by desires for certain ends.\nChildren run and shout, not because of any good which they expect to\nrealize, but because of a direct impulse to running and shouting. Dogs\nbay the moon, not because they consider that it is to their advantage\nto do so, but because they feel an impulse to bark. It is not any\npurpose, but merely an impulse, that prompts such actions as eating,\ndrinking, love-making, quarreling, boasting. Those who believe that\nman is a rational animal will say that people boast in order that\nothers may have a good opinion of them; but most of us can recall\noccasions when we have boasted in spite of knowing that we should\nbe despised for it. Instinctive acts normally achieve some result\nwhich is agreeable to the natural man, but they are not performed\nfrom desire for this result. They are performed from direct impulse,\nand the impulse is often strong even in cases in which the normal\ndesirable result cannot follow. Grown men like to imagine themselves\nmore rational than children and dogs, and unconsciously conceal\nfrom themselves how great a part impulse plays in their lives. This\nunconscious concealment always follows a certain general plan. When an\nimpulse is not indulged in the moment in which it arises, there grows\nup a desire for the expected consequences of indulging the impulse.\nIf some of the consequences which are reasonably to be expected are\nclearly disagreeable, a conflict between foresight and impulse arises.\nIf the impulse is weak, foresight may conquer; this is what is called\nacting on reason. If the impulse is strong, either foresight will be\nfalsified, and the disagreeable consequences will be forgotten, or, in\nmen of a heroic mold, the consequences may be recklessly accepted. When\nMacbeth realizes that he is doomed to defeat, he does not shrink from\nthe fight; he exclaims:\u2014\n\n                        Lay on, Macduff,\n    And damned be him that first cries, Hold, enough!\n\nBut such strength and recklessness of impulse is rare. Most men, when\ntheir impulse is strong, succeed in persuading themselves, usually by\na subconscious selectiveness of attention, that agreeable consequences\nwill follow from the indulgence of their impulse. Whole philosophies,\nwhole systems of ethical valuation, spring up in this way: they are\nthe embodiment of a kind of thought which is subservient to impulse,\nwhich aims at providing a quasi-rational ground for the indulgence of\nimpulse. The only thought which is genuine is that which springs out\nof the intellectual impulse of curiosity, leading to the desire to\nknow and understand. But most of what passes for thought is inspired\nby some non-intellectual impulse, and is merely a means of persuading\nourselves that we shall not be disappointed or do harm if we indulge\nthis impulse.[1]\n\nWhen an impulse is restrained, we feel discomfort or even violent pain.\nWe may indulge the impulse in order to escape from this pain, and\nour action is then one which has a purpose. But the pain only exists\nbecause of the impulse, and the impulse itself is directed to an act,\nnot to escaping from the pain of restraining the impulse. The impulse\nitself remains without a purpose, and the purpose of escaping from pain\nonly arises when the impulse has been momentarily restrained.\n\nImpulse is at the basis of our activity, much more than desire. Desire\nhas its place, but not so large a place as it seemed to have. Impulses\nbring with them a whole train of subservient fictitious desires: they\nmake men feel that they desire the results which will follow from\nindulging the impulses, and that they are acting for the sake of these\nresults, when in fact their action has no motive outside itself. A man\nmay write a book or paint a picture under the belief that he desires\nthe praise which it will bring him; but as soon as it is finished,\nif his creative impulse is not exhausted, what he has done grows\nuninteresting to him, and he begins a new piece of work. What applies\nto artistic creation applies equally to all that is most vital in our\nlives: direct impulse is what moves us, and the desires which we think\nwe have are a mere garment for the impulse.\n\nDesire, as opposed to impulse, has, it is true, a large and increasing\nshare in the regulation of men\u2019s lives. Impulse is erratic and\nanarchical, not easily fitted into a well-regulated system; it may be\ntolerated in children and artists, but it is not thought proper to\nmen who hope to be taken seriously. Almost all paid work is done from\ndesire, not from impulse: the work itself is more or less irksome,\nbut the payment for it is desired. The serious activities that fill\na man\u2019s working hours are, except in a few fortunate individuals,\ngoverned mainly by purposes, not by impulses towards those activities.\nIn this hardly any one sees an evil, because the place of impulse in a\nsatisfactory existence is not recognized.\n\nAn impulse, to one who does not share it actually or imaginatively,\nwill always seem to be mad. All impulse is essentially blind, in the\nsense that it does not spring from any prevision of consequences. The\nman who does not share the impulse will form a different estimate as\nto what the consequences will be, and as to whether those that must\nensue are desirable. This difference of opinion will seem to be ethical\nor intellectual, whereas its real basis is a difference of impulse.\nNo genuine agreement will be reached, in such a case, so long as the\ndifference of impulse persists. In all men who have any vigorous life,\nthere are strong impulses such as may seem utterly unreasonable to\nothers. Blind impulses sometimes lead to destruction and death, but\nat other times they lead to the best things the world contains. Blind\nimpulse is the source of war, but it is also the source of science,\nand art, and love. It is not the weakening of impulse that is to be\ndesired, but the direction of impulse towards life and growth rather\nthan towards death and decay.\n\nThe complete control of impulse by will, which is sometimes preached\nby moralists, and often enforced by economic necessity, is not really\ndesirable. A life governed by purposes and desires, to the exclusion\nof impulse, is a tiring life; it exhausts vitality, and leaves a man,\nin the end, indifferent to the very purposes which he has been trying\nto achieve. When a whole nation lives in this way, the whole nation\ntends to become feeble, without enough grasp to recognize and overcome\nthe obstacles to its desires. Industrialism and organization are\nconstantly forcing civilized nations to live more and more by purpose\nrather than impulse. In the long run such a mode of existence, if it\ndoes not dry up the springs of life, produces new impulses, not of\nthe kind which the will has been in the habit of controlling or of\nwhich thought is conscious. These new impulses are apt to be worse in\ntheir effects than those that have been checked. Excessive discipline,\nespecially when it is imposed from without, often issues in impulses\nof cruelty and destruction; this is one reason why militarism has a\nbad effect on national character. Either lack of vitality, or impulses\nwhich are oppressive and against life, will almost always result if the\nspontaneous impulses are not able to find an outlet. A man\u2019s impulses\nare not fixed from the beginning by his native disposition: within\ncertain wide limits, they are profoundly modified by his circumstances\nand his way of life. The nature of these modifications ought to be\nstudied, and the results of such study ought to be taken account of\nin judging the good or harm that is done by political and social\ninstitutions.\n\nThe war has grown, in the main, out of the life of impulse, not out of\nreason or desire. There is an impulse of aggression, and an impulse of\nresistance to aggression. Either may, on occasion, be in accordance\nwith reason, but both are operative in many cases in which they are\nquite contrary to reason. Each impulse produces a whole harvest of\nattendant beliefs. The beliefs appropriate to the impulse of aggression\nmay be seen in Bernhardi, or in the early Mohammedan conquerors, or,\nin full perfection, in the Book of Joshua. There is first of all a\nconviction of the superior excellence of one\u2019s own group, a certainty\nthat they are in some sense the chosen people. This justifies the\nfeeling that only the good and evil of one\u2019s own group is of real\nimportance, and that the rest of the world is to be regarded merely as\nmaterial for the triumph or salvation of the higher race. In modern\npolitics this attitude is embodied in imperialism. Europe as a whole\nhas this attitude towards Asia and Africa, and many Germans have this\nattitude towards the rest of Europe.\n\nCorrelative to the impulse of aggression is the impulse of resistance\nto aggression. This impulse is exemplified in the attitude of the\nIsraelites to the Philistines or of medieval Europe to the Mohammedans.\nThe beliefs which it produces are beliefs in the peculiar wickedness of\nthose whose aggression is feared, and in the immense value of national\ncustoms which they might suppress if they were victorious. When the war\nbroke out, all the reactionaries in England and France began to speak\nof the danger to democracy, although until that moment they had opposed\ndemocracy with all their strength. They were not insincere in so\nspeaking: the impulse of resistance to Germany made them value whatever\nwas endangered by the German attack. They loved democracy because they\nhated Germany; but they thought they hated Germany because they loved\ndemocracy.\n\nThe correlative impulses of aggression and resistance to aggression\nhave both been operative in all the countries engaged in the war.\nThose who have not been dominated by one or other of these impulses\nmay be roughly divided into three classes. There are, first, men whose\nnational sentiment is antagonistic to the State to which they are\nsubject. This class includes some Irish, Poles, Finns, Jews, and other\nmembers of oppressed nations. From our point of view, these men may\nbe omitted from our consideration, since they have the same impulsive\nnature as those who fight, and differ merely in external circumstances.\n\nThe second class of men who have not been part of the force supporting\nthe war have been those whose impulsive nature is more or less\natrophied. Opponents of pacifism suppose that all pacifists belong to\nthis class, except when they are in German pay. It is thought that\npacifists are bloodless, men without passions, men who can look on and\nreason with cold detachment while their brothers are giving their lives\nfor their country. Among those who are merely passively pacifist, and\ndo no more than abstain from actively taking part in the war, there may\nbe a certain proportion of whom this is true. I think the supporters\nof war would be right in decrying such men. In spite of all the\ndestruction which is wrought by the impulses that lead to war, there is\nmore hope for a nation which has these impulses than for a nation in\nwhich all impulse is dead. Impulse is the expression of life, and while\nit exists there is hope of its turning towards life instead of towards\ndeath; but lack of impulse is death, and out of death no new life will\ncome.\n\nThe active pacifists, however, are not of this class: they are not men\nwithout impulsive force but men in whom some impulse to which war is\nhostile is strong enough to overcome the impulses that lead to war. It\nis not the act of a passionless man to throw himself athwart the whole\nmovement of the national life, to urge an outwardly hopeless cause,\nto incur obloquy and to resist the contagion of collective emotion.\nThe impulse to avoid the hostility of public opinion is one of the\nstrongest in human nature, and can only be overcome by an unusual force\nof direct and uncalculating impulse; it is not cold reason alone that\ncan prompt such an act.\n\nImpulses may be divided into those that make for life and those that\nmake for death. The impulses embodied in the war are among those that\nmake for death. Any one of the impulses that make for life, if it is\nstrong enough, will lead a man to stand out against the war. Some of\nthese impulses are only strong in highly civilized men; some are part\nof common humanity. The impulses towards art and science are among the\nmore civilized of those that make for life. Many artists have remained\nwholly untouched by the passions of the war, not from feebleness of\nfeeling, but because the creative instinct, the pursuit of a vision,\nmakes them critical of the assaults of national passion, and not\nresponsive to the myth in which the impulse of pugnacity clothes\nitself. And the few men in whom the scientific impulse is dominant have\nnoticed the rival myths of warring groups, and have been led through\nunderstanding to neutrality. But it is not out of such refined impulses\nthat a popular force can be generated which shall be sufficient to\ntransform the world.\n\nThere are three forces on the side of life which require no exceptional\nmental endowment, which are not very rare at present, and might be very\ncommon under better social institutions. They are love, the instinct\nof constructiveness, and the joy of life. All three are checked and\nenfeebled at present by the conditions under which men live\u2014not only\nthe less outwardly fortunate, but also the majority of the well-to-do.\nOur institutions rest upon injustice and authority: it is only by\nclosing our hearts against sympathy and our minds against truth that\nwe can endure the oppressions and unfairnesses by which we profit. The\nconventional conception of what constitutes success leads most men to\nlive a life in which their most vital impulses are sacrificed, and the\njoy of life is lost in listless weariness. Our economic system compels\nalmost all men to carry out the purposes of others rather than their\nown, making them feel impotent in action and only able to secure a\ncertain modicum of passive pleasure. All these things destroy the vigor\nof the community, the expansive affections of individuals, and the\npower of viewing the world generously. All these things are unnecessary\nand can be ended by wisdom and courage. If they were ended, the\nimpulsive life of men would become wholly different, and the human race\nmight travel towards a new happiness and a new vigor. To urge this hope\nis the purpose of these lectures.\n\nThe impulses and desires of men and women, in so far as they are of\nreal importance in their lives, are not detached one from another, but\nproceed from a central principle of growth, an instinctive urgency\nleading them in a certain direction, as trees seek the light. So long\nas this instinctive movement is not thwarted, whatever misfortunes\nmay occur are not fundamental disasters, and do not produce those\ndistortions which result from interference with natural growth. This\nintimate center in each human being is what imagination must apprehend\nif we are to understand him intuitively. It differs from man to man,\nand determines for each man the type of excellence of which he is\ncapable. The utmost that social institutions can do for a man is to\nmake his own growth free and vigorous: they cannot force him to grow\naccording to the pattern of another man. There are in men some impulses\nand desires\u2014for example, those towards drugs\u2014which do not grow out of\nthe central principle; such impulses, when they become strong enough\nto be harmful, have to be checked by self-discipline. Other impulses,\nthough they may grow out of the central principle in the individual,\nmay be injurious to the growth of others, and they need to be checked\nin the interest of others. But in the main, the impulses which are\ninjurious to others tend to result from thwarted growth, and to be\nleast in those who have been unimpeded in their instinctive development.\n\nMen, like trees, require for their growth the right soil and a\nsufficient freedom from oppression. These can be helped or hindered\nby political institutions. But the soil and the freedom required for\na man\u2019s growth are immeasurably more difficult to discover and to\nobtain than the soil and the freedom required for the growth of a\ntree. And the full growth which may be hoped for cannot be defined\nor demonstrated; it is subtle and complex, it can only be felt by a\ndelicate intuition and dimly apprehended by imagination and respect.\nIt depends not only or chiefly upon the physical environment, but\nupon beliefs and affections, upon opportunities for action, and upon\nthe whole life of the community. The more developed and civilized the\ntype of man the more elaborate are the conditions of his growth, and\nthe more dependent they become upon the general state of the society\nin which he lives. A man\u2019s needs and desires are not confined to his\nown life. If his mind is comprehensive and his imagination vivid, the\nfailures of the community to which he belongs are his failures, and its\nsuccesses are his successes: according as his community succeeds or\nfails, his own growth is nourished or impeded.\n\nIn the modern world, the principle of growth in most men and women\nis hampered by institutions inherited from a simpler age. By the\nprogress of thought and knowledge, and by the increase in command over\nthe forces of the physical world, new possibilities of growth have\ncome into existence, and have given rise to new claims which must be\nsatisfied if those who make them are not to be thwarted. There is less\nacquiescence in limitations which are no longer unavoidable, and less\npossibility of a good life while those limitations remain. Institutions\nwhich give much greater opportunities to some classes than to others\nare no longer recognized as just by the less fortunate, though the\nmore fortunate still defend them vehemently. Hence arises a universal\nstrife, in which tradition and authority are arrayed against liberty\nand justice. Our professed morality, being traditional, loses its hold\nupon those who are in revolt. Co\u00f6peration between the defenders of the\nold and the champions of the new has become almost impossible. An\nintimate disunion has entered into almost all the relations of life\nin continually increasing measure. In the fight for freedom, men and\nwomen become increasingly unable to break down the walls of the Ego and\nachieve the growth which comes from a real and vital union.\n\nAll our institutions have their historic basis in Authority. The\nunquestioned authority of the Oriental despot found its religious\nexpression in the omnipotent Creator, whose glory was the sole end of\nman, and against whom man had no rights. This authority descended to\nthe Emperor and Pope, to the kings of the Middle Ages, to the nobles\nin the feudal hierarchy, and even to every husband and father in\nhis dealings with his wife and children. The Church was the direct\nembodiment of the Divine authority, the State and the law were\nconstituted by the authority of the King, private property in land grew\nout of the authority of conquering barons, and the family was governed\nby the authority of the pater-familias.\n\nThe institutions of the Middle Ages permitted only a fortunate few\nto develop freely: the vast majority of mankind existed to minister\nto the few. But so long as authority was genuinely respected and\nacknowledged even by its least fortunate subjects, medieval society\nremained organic and not fundamentally hostile to life, since outward\nsubmission was compatible with inward freedom because it was voluntary.\nThe institutions of Western Christendom embodied a theory which was\nreally believed, as no theory by which our present institutions can be\ndefended is now believed.\n\nThe medieval theory of life broke down through its failure to satisfy\nmen\u2019s demands for justice and liberty. Under the stress of oppression,\nwhen rulers exceeded their theoretical powers, the victims were forced\nto realize that they themselves also had rights, and need not live\nmerely to increase the glory of the few. Gradually it came to be seen\nthat if men have power, they are likely to abuse it, and that authority\nin practice means tyranny. Because the claim to justice was resisted\nby the holders of power, men became more and more separate units, each\nfighting for his own rights, not a genuine community bound together\nby an organic common purpose. This absence of a common purpose has\nbecome a source of unhappiness. One of the reasons which led many men\nto welcome the outbreak of the present war was that it made each\nnation again a whole community with a single purpose. It did this by\ndestroying, for the present, the beginnings of a single purpose in the\ncivilized world as a whole; but these beginnings were as yet so feeble\nthat few were much affected by their destruction. Men rejoiced in the\nnew sense of unity with their compatriots more than they minded the\nincreased separation from their enemies.\n\nThe hardening and separation of the individual in the course of the\nfight for freedom has been inevitable, and is not likely ever to be\nwholly undone. What is necessary, if an organic society is to grow\nup, is that our institutions should be so fundamentally changed as\nto embody that new respect for the individual and his rights which\nmodern feeling demands. The medieval Empire and Church swept away the\nindividual. There were heretics, but they were massacred relentlessly,\nwithout any of the qualms aroused by later persecutions. And they, like\ntheir persecutors, were persuaded that there ought to be one universal\nChurch: they differed only as to what its creed should be. Among a\nfew men of art and letters, the Renaissance undermined the medieval\ntheory, without, however, replacing it by anything but skepticism\nand confusion. The first serious breach in this medieval theory was\ncaused by Luther\u2019s assertion of the right of private judgment and the\nfallibility of General Councils. Out of this assertion grew inevitably,\nwith time, the belief that a man\u2019s religion could not be determined\nfor him by authority, but must be left to the free choice of each\nindividual. It was in matters of religion that the battle for liberty\nbegan, and it is in matters of religion that it has come nearest to a\ncomplete victory.[2]\n\nThe development through extreme individualism to strife, and thence,\none hopes, to a new reintegration, is to be seen in almost every\ndepartment of life. Claims are advanced in the name of justice, and\nresisted in the name of tradition and prescriptive right. Each side\nhonestly believes that it deserves to triumph, because two theories\nof society exist side by side in our thought, and men choose,\nunconsciously, the theory which fits their case. Because the battle is\nlong and arduous all general theory is gradually forgotten; in the end,\nnothing remains but self-assertion, and when the oppressed win freedom\nthey are as oppressive as their former masters.\n\nThis is seen most crudely in the case of what is called nationalism.\nNationalism, in theory, is the doctrine that men, by their sympathies\nand traditions, form natural groups, called \u201cnations,\u201d each of which\nought to be united under one central Government. In the main this\ndoctrine may be conceded. But in practice the doctrine takes a more\npersonal form. \u201cI belong,\u201d the oppressed nationalist argues, \u201cby\nsympathy and tradition to nation A, but I am subject to a government\nwhich is in the hands of nation B. This is an injustice, not only\nbecause of the general principle of nationalism, but because nation A\nis generous, progressive, and civilized, while nation B is oppressive,\nretrograde, and barbarous. Because this is so, nation A deserves to\nprosper, while nation B deserves to be abased.\u201d The inhabitants of\nnation B are naturally deaf to the claims of abstract justice, when\nthey are accompanied by personal hostility and contempt. Presently,\nhowever, in the course of war, nation A acquires its freedom. The\nenergy and pride which have achieved freedom generates a momentum which\nleads on, almost infallibly, to the attempt at foreign conquest, or\nto the refusal of liberty to some smaller nation. \u201cWhat? You say that\nnation C, which forms part of our State, has the same rights against\nus as we had against nation A? But that is absurd. Nation C is swinish\nand turbulent, incapable of good government, needing a strong hand if\nit is not to be a menace and a disturbance to all its neighbors.\u201d So\nthe English used to speak of the Irish, so the Germans and Russians\nspeak of the Poles, so the Galician Poles speak of the Ruthenes, so\nthe Austrians used to speak of the Magyars, so the Magyars speak of\nthe South Slav sympathizers with Serbia, so the Serbs speak of the\nMacedonian Bulgars. In this way nationalism, unobjectionable in theory,\nleads by a natural movement to oppression and wars of conquest. No\nsooner was France free from the English, in the fifteenth century,\nthan it embarked upon the conquest of Italy; no sooner was Spain freed\nfrom the Moors than it entered into more than a century of conflict\nwith France for the supremacy in Europe. The case of Germany is very\ninteresting in this respect. At the beginning of the eighteenth century\nGerman culture was French: French was the language of the Courts,\nthe language in which Leibnitz wrote his philosophy, the universal\nlanguage of polite letters and learning. National consciousness hardly\nexisted. Then a series of great men created a self-respect in Germany\nby their achievements in poetry, music, philosophy, and science.\nBut politically German nationalism was only created by Napoleon\u2019s\noppression and the uprising of 1813. After centuries during which every\ndisturbance of the peace of Europe began with a French or Swedish or\nRussian invasion of Germany, the Germans discovered that by sufficient\neffort and union they could keep foreign armies off their territory.\nBut the effort required had been too great to cease when its purely\ndefensive purpose had been achieved by the defeat of Napoleon. Now, a\nhundred years later, they are still engaged in the same movement, which\nhas become one of aggression and conquest. Whether we are now seeing\nthe end of the movement it is not yet possible to guess.\n\nIf men had any strong sense of a community of nations, nationalism\nwould serve to define the boundaries of the various nations. But\nbecause men only feel community within their own nation, nothing but\nforce is able to make them respect the rights of other nations, even\nwhen they are asserting exactly similar rights on their own behalf.\n\nAnalogous development is to be expected, with the course of time, in\nthe conflict between capital and labor which has existed since the\ngrowth of the industrial system, and in the conflict between men and\nwomen, which is still in its infancy.\n\nWhat is wanted, in these various conflicts, is some principle,\ngenuinely believed, which will have justice for its outcome. The tug\nof war of mutual self-assertion can only result in justice through an\naccidental equality of force. It is no use to attempt any bolstering\nup of institutions based on authority, since all such institutions\ninvolve injustice, and injustice once realized cannot be perpetuated\nwithout fundamental damage both to those who uphold it and to those who\nresist it. The damage consists in the hardening of the walls of the\nEgo, making them a prison instead of a window. Unimpeded growth in the\nindividual depends upon many contacts with other people, which must\nbe of the nature of free co\u00f6peration, not of enforced service. While\nthe belief in authority was alive, free co\u00f6peration was compatible\nwith inequality and subjection, but now equality and mutual freedom\nare necessary. All institutions, if they are not to hamper individual\ngrowth, must be based as far as possible upon voluntary combination,\nrather than the force of the law or the traditional authority of the\nholders of power. None of our institutions can survive the application\nof this principle without great and fundamental changes; but these\nchanges are imperatively necessary if the world is to be withheld from\ndissolving into hard separate units each at war with all the others.\n\nThe two chief sources of good relations between individuals are\ninstinctive liking and a common purpose. Of these two, a common purpose\nmight seem more important politically, but, in fact, it is often\nthe outcome, not the cause, of instinctive liking, or of a common\ninstinctive aversion. Biological groups, from the family to the nation,\nare constituted by a greater or less degree of instinctive liking, and\nbuild their common purposes on this foundation.\n\nInstinctive liking is the feeling which makes us take pleasure in\nanother person\u2019s company, find an exhilaration in his presence, wish to\ntalk with him, work with him, play with him. The extreme form of it is\nbeing in love, but its fainter forms, and even the very faintest, have\npolitical importance. The presence of a person who is instinctively\ndisliked tends to make any other person more likable. An anti-Semite\nwill love any fellow-Christian when a Jew is present. In China, or the\nwilds of Africa, any white man would be welcomed with joy. A common\naversion is one of the most frequent causes of mild instinctive liking.\n\nMen differ enormously in the frequency and intensity of their\ninstinctive likings, and the same man will differ greatly at different\ntimes. One may take Carlyle and Walt Whitman as opposite poles in this\nrespect. To Carlyle, at any rate in later life, most men and women were\nrepulsive; they inspired an instinctive aversion which made him find\npleasure in imagining them under the guillotine or perishing in battle.\nThis led him to belittle most men, finding satisfaction only in those\nwho had been notably destructive of human life\u2014Frederick the Great,\nDr. Francia, and Governor Eyre. It led him to love war and violence,\nand to despise the weak and the oppressed\u2014for example, the \u201cthirty\nthousand distressed needlewomen,\u201d on whom he was never weary of venting\nhis scorn. His morals and his politics, in later life, were inspired\nthrough and through by repugnance to almost the whole human race.\n\nWalt Whitman, on the contrary, had a warm, expansive feeling towards\nthe vast majority of men and women. His queer catalogues seemed to him\ninteresting because each item came before his imagination as an object\nof delight. The sort of joy which most people feel only in those who\nare exceptionally beautiful or splendid Walt Whitman felt in almost\neverybody. Out of this universal liking grew optimism, a belief in\ndemocracy, and a conviction that it is easy for men to live together\nin peace and amity. His philosophy and politics, like Carlyle\u2019s, were\nbased upon his instinctive attitude towards ordinary men and women.\n\nThere is no objective reason to be given to show that one of these\nattitudes is essentially more rational than the other. If a man finds\npeople repulsive, no argument can prove to him that they are not so.\nBut both his own desires and other people\u2019s are much more likely to\nfind satisfaction if he resembles Walt Whitman than if he resembles\nCarlyle. A world of Walt Whitmans would be happier and more capable of\nrealizing its purposes than a world of Carlyles. For this reason, we\nshall desire, if we can, to increase the amount of instinctive liking\nin the world and diminish the amount of instinctive aversion. This\nis perhaps the most important of all the effects by which political\ninstitutions ought to be judged.\n\nThe other source of good relations between individuals is a common\npurpose, especially where that purpose cannot be achieved without\nknowing its cause. Economic organizations, such as unions and political\nparties are constituted almost wholly by a common purpose; whatever\ninstinctive liking may come to be associated with them is the result\nof the common purpose, not its cause. Economic organizations, such as\nrailway companies, subsist for a purpose, but this purpose need only\nactually exist in those who direct the organization: the ordinary\nwage-earner need have no purpose beyond earning his wages. This is a\ndefect in economic organizations, and ought to be remedied. One of the\nobjects of syndicalism is to remedy this defect.\n\nMarriage is (or should be) based on instinctive liking, but as soon\nas there are children, or the wish for children, it acquires the\nadditional strength of a common purpose. It is this chiefly which\ndistinguishes it from an irregular connection not intended to lead to\nchildren. Often, in fact, the common purpose survives, and remains a\nstrong tie, after the instinctive liking has faded.\n\nA nation, when it is real and not artificial, is founded upon a faint\ndegree of instinctive liking for compatriots and a common instinctive\naversion from foreigners. When an Englishman returns to Dover or\nFolkestone after being on the Continent, he feels something friendly\nin the familiar ways: the casual porters, the shouting paper boys, the\nwomen serving bad tea, all warm his heart, and seem more \u201cnatural,\u201d\nmore what human beings ought to be, than the foreigners with their\nstrange habits of behavior. He is ready to believe that all English\npeople are good souls, while many foreigners are full of designing\nwickedness. It is such feelings that make it easy to organize a nation\ninto a governmental unit. And when that has happened, a common purpose\nis added, as in marriage. Foreigners would like to invade our country\nand lay it waste, to kill us in battle, to humble our pride. Those\nwho co\u00f6perate with us in preventing this disaster are our friends,\nand their co\u00f6peration intensifies our instinctive liking. But common\npurposes do not constitute the whole source of our love of country:\nallies, even of long standing, do not call out the same feelings\nas are called out by our compatriots. Instinctive liking, resulting\nlargely from similar habits and customs, is an essential element in\npatriotism, and, indeed, the foundation upon which the whole feeling\nrests.\n\nIf men\u2019s natural growth is to be promoted and not hindered by the\nenvironment, if as many as possible of their desires and needs are to\nbe satisfied, political institutions must, as far as possible, embody\ncommon purposes and foster instinctive liking. These two objects are\ninterconnected, for nothing is so destructive of instinctive liking\nas thwarted purposes and unsatisfied needs, and nothing facilitates\nco\u00f6peration for common purposes so much as instinctive liking. When a\nman\u2019s growth is unimpeded, his self-respect remains intact, and he is\nnot inclined to regard others as his enemies. But when, for whatever\nreason, his growth is impeded, or he is compelled to grow into some\ntwisted and unnatural shape, his instinct presents the environment as\nhis enemy, and he becomes filled with hatred. The joy of life abandons\nhim, and malevolence takes the place of friendliness. The malevolence\nof hunchbacks and cripples is proverbial; and a similar malevolence\nis to be found in those who have been crippled in less obvious ways.\nReal freedom, if it could be brought about, would go a long way towards\ndestroying hatred.\n\nThere is a not uncommon belief that what is instinctive in us\ncannot be changed, but must be simply accepted and made the best\nof. This is by no means the case. No doubt we have a certain native\ndisposition, different in different people, which co\u00f6perates with\noutside circumstances in producing a certain character. But even the\ninstinctive part of our character is very malleable. It may be changed\nby beliefs, by material circumstances, by social circumstances, and by\ninstitutions. A Dutchman has probably much the same native disposition\nas a German, but his instincts in adult life are very different owing\nto the absence of militarism and of the pride of a Great Power. It is\nobvious that the instincts of celibates become profoundly different\nfrom those of other men and women. Almost any instinct is capable of\nmany different forms according to the nature of the outlets which\nit finds. The same instinct which leads to artistic or intellectual\ncreativeness may, under other circumstances, lead to love of war. The\nfact that an activity or belief is an outcome of instinct is therefore\nno reason for regarding it as unalterable.\n\nThis applies to people\u2019s instinctive likes and dislikes as well as\nto their other instincts. It is natural to men, as to other animals,\nto like some of their species and dislike others; but the proportion\nof like and dislike depends on circumstances, often on quite trivial\ncircumstances. Most of Carlyle\u2019s misanthropy is attributable to\ndyspepsia; probably a suitable medical regimen would have given him a\ncompletely different outlook on the world. The defect of punishment,\nas a means of dealing with impulses which the community wishes to\ndiscourage, is that it does nothing to prevent the existence of\nthe impulses, but merely endeavors to check their indulgence by an\nappeal to self-interest. This method, since it does not eradicate the\nimpulses, probably only drives them to find other outlets even when it\nis successful in its immediate object; and if the impulses are strong,\nmere self-interest is not likely to curb them effectually, since it is\nnot a very powerful motive except with unusually reasonable and rather\npassionless people. It is thought to be a stronger motive than it is,\nbecause our moods make us deceive ourselves as to our interest, and\nlead us to believe that it is consistent with the actions to which we\nare prompted by desire or impulse.\n\nThus the commonplace that human nature cannot be changed is untrue.\nWe all know that our own characters and those of our acquaintance are\ngreatly affected by circumstances; and what is true of individuals\nis true also of nations. The root causes of changes in average human\nnature are generally either purely material changes\u2014for instance, of\nclimate\u2014or changes in the degree of man\u2019s control over the material\nworld. We may ignore the purely material changes, since these do not\nmuch concern the politician. But the changes due to man\u2019s increased\ncontrol over the material world, by inventions and science, are of\nprofound present importance. Through the industrial revolution, they\nhave radically altered the daily lives of men; and by creating huge\neconomic organizations, they have altered the whole structure of\nsociety. The general beliefs of men, which are, in the main, a product\nof instinct and circumstance, have become very different from what\nthey were in the eighteenth century. But our institutions are not yet\nsuited either to the instincts developed by our new circumstances, or\nto our real beliefs. Institutions have a life of their own, and often\noutlast the circumstances which made them a fit garment for instinct.\nThis applies, in varying degrees, to almost all the institutions which\nwe have inherited from the past: the State, private property, the\npatriarchal family, the Churches, armies and navies. All of these have\nbecome in some degree oppressive, in some measures hostile to life.\n\nIn any serious attempt at political reconstruction, it is necessary\nto realize what are the vital needs of ordinary men and women. It\nis customary, in political thought, to assume that the only needs\nwith which politics is concerned are economic needs. This view is\nquite inadequate to account for such an event as the present war,\nsince any economic motives that may be assigned for it are to a great\nextent mythical, and its true causes must be sought for outside the\neconomic sphere. Needs which are normally satisfied without conscious\neffort remain unrecognized, and this results in a working theory of\nhuman needs which is far too simple. Owing chiefly to industrialism,\nmany needs which were formerly satisfied without effort now remain\nunsatisfied in most men and women. But the old unduly simple theory of\nhuman needs survives, making men overlook the source of the new lack\nof satisfaction, and invent quite false theories as to why they are\ndissatisfied. Socialism as a panacea seems to me to be mistaken in this\nway, since it is too ready to suppose that better economic conditions\nwill of themselves make men happy. It is not only more material goods\nthat men need, but more freedom, more self-direction, more outlet for\ncreativeness, more opportunity for the joy of life, more voluntary\nco\u00f6peration, and less involuntary subservience to purposes not their\nown. All these things the institutions of the future must help to\nproduce, if our increase of knowledge and power over Nature is to bear\nits full fruit in bringing about a good life.\n\n\n\n\nII\n\nTHE STATE\n\n\nUnder the influence of socialism, most liberal thought in recent years\nhas been in favor of increasing the power of the State, but more or\nless hostile to the power of private property. On the other hand,\nsyndicalism has been hostile both to the State and to private property.\nI believe that syndicalism is more nearly right than socialism in this\nrespect, that both private property and the State, which are the two\nmost powerful institutions of the modern world, have become harmful\nto life through excess of power, and that both are hastening the loss\nof vitality from which the civilized world increasingly suffers.\nThe two institutions are closely connected, but for the present I\nwish to consider only the State. I shall try to show how great, how\nunnecessary, how harmful, many of its powers are, and how enormously\nthey might be diminished without loss of what is useful in its\nactivity. But I shall admit that in certain directions its functions\nought to be extended rather than curtailed.\n\nSome of the functions of the State, such as the Post Office and\nelementary education, might be performed by private agencies, and are\nonly undertaken by the State from motives of convenience. But other\nmatters, such as the law, the police, the Army, and the Navy, belong\nmore essentially to the State: so long as there is a State at all it is\ndifficult to imagine these matters in private hands. The distinction\nbetween socialism and individualism turns on the nonessential\nfunctions of the State, which the socialist wishes to extend and\nthe individualist to restrict. It is the essential functions, which\nare admitted by individualists and socialists alike, that I wish\nto criticize, since the others do not appear to me in themselves\nobjectionable.\n\nThe essence of the State is that it is the repository of the collective\nforce of its citizens. This force takes two forms, one internal and one\nexternal. The internal form is the law and the police; the external\nform is the power of waging war, as embodied in the Army and Navy. The\nState is constituted by the combination of all the inhabitants in a\ncertain area using their united force in accordance with the commands\nof a Government. In a civilized State force is only employed against\nits own citizens in accordance with rules previously laid down, which\nconstitute the criminal law. But the employment of force against\nforeigners is not regulated by any code of rules, and proceeds, with\nfew exceptions, according to some real or fancied national interest.\n\nThere can be no doubt that force employed according to law is less\npernicious than force employed capriciously. If international law could\nacquire sufficient hold on men\u2019s allegiance to regulate the relations\nof States, a very great advance on our present condition would have\nbeen made. The primitive anarchy which precedes law is worse than law.\nBut I believe there is a possibility of a stage to some extent above\nlaw, where the advantages now secured by the law are secured without\nloss of freedom, and without the disadvantages which the law and the\npolice render inevitable. Probably some repository of force in the\nbackground will remain necessary, but the actual employment of force\nmay become very rare, and the degree of force required very small.\nThe anarchy which precedes law gives freedom only to the strong; the\ncondition to be aimed at will give freedom as nearly as possible to\nevery one. It will do this, not by preventing altogether the existence\nof organized force, but by limiting the occasions for its employment to\nthe greatest possible extent.\n\nThe power of the State is only limited internally by the fear of\nrebellion and externally by the fear of defeat in war. Subject to these\nrestrictions, it is absolute. In practice, it can seize men\u2019s property\nthrough taxation, determine the law of marriage and inheritance, punish\nthe expression of opinions which it dislikes, put men to death for\nwishing the region they inhabit to belong to a different State, and\norder all able-bodied males to risk their lives in battle whenever it\nconsiders war desirable. On many matters disagreement with the purposes\nand opinions of the State is criminal. Probably the freest States in\nthe world, before the war, were America and England; yet in America no\nimmigrant may land until he has professed disbelief in anarchism and\npolygamy, while in England men were sent to prison in recent years for\nexpressing disagreement with the Christian religion[3] or agreement\nwith the teaching of Christ.[4] In time of war, all criticism of\nthe external policy of the State is criminal. Certain objects having\nappeared desirable to the majority, or to the effective holders of\npower, those who do not consider these objects desirable are exposed\nto pains and penalties not unlike those suffered by heretics in the\npast. The extent of the tyranny thus exercised is concealed by its very\nsuccess: few men consider it worth while to incur a persecution which\nis almost certain to be thorough and effective.\n\nUniversal military service is perhaps the extreme example of the power\nof the State, and the supreme illustration of the difference between\nits attitude to its own citizens and its attitude to the citizens of\nother States. The State punishes, with impartial rigor, both those who\nkill their compatriots and those who refuse to kill foreigners. On\nthe whole, the latter is considered the graver crime. The phenomenon\nof war is familiar, and men fail to realize its strangeness; to those\nwho stand inside the cycle of instincts which lead to war it all seems\nnatural and reasonable. But to those who stand outside the strangeness\nof it grows with familiarity. It is amazing that the vast majority of\nmen should tolerate a system which compels them to submit to all the\nhorrors of the battlefield at any moment when their Government commands\nthem to do so. A French artist, indifferent to politics, attentive only\nto his painting, suddenly finds himself called upon to shoot Germans,\nwho, his friends assure him, are a disgrace to the human race. A German\nmusician, equally unknowing, is called upon to shoot the perfidious\nFrenchman. Why cannot the two men declare a mutual neutrality? Why not\nleave war to those who like it and bring it on? Yet if the two men\ndeclared a mutual neutrality they would be shot by their compatriots.\nTo avoid this fate they try to shoot each other. If the world loses\nthe artist, not the musician, Germany rejoices; if the world loses the\nmusician, not the artist, France rejoices. No one remembers the loss to\ncivilization, which is equal whichever is killed.\n\nThis is the politics of Bedlam. If the artist and the musician had been\nallowed to stand aside from the war, nothing but unmitigated good to\nmankind would have resulted. The power of the State, which makes this\nimpossible, is a wholly evil thing, quite as evil as the power of the\nChurch which in former days put men to death for unorthodox thought.\nYet if, even in time of peace, an international league were founded to\nconsist of Frenchmen and Germans in equal numbers, all pledged not to\ntake part in war, the French State and the German State would persecute\nit with equal ferocity. Blind obedience, unlimited willingness to kill\nand die are exacted of the modern citizens of a democracy as much as\nof the Janizaries of medieval sultans or the secret agents of Oriental\ndespots.[5]\n\nThe power of the State may be brought to bear, as it often is in\nEngland, through public opinion rather than through the laws. By\noratory and the influence of the Press, public opinion is largely\ncreated by the State, and a tyrannous public opinion is as great an\nenemy to liberty as tyrannous laws. If the young man who will not\nfight finds that he is dismissed from his employment, insulted in the\nstreets, cold-shouldered by his friends, and thrown over with scorn by\nany woman who may formerly have liked him, he will feel the penalty\nquite as hard to bear as a death sentence.[6] A free community requires\nnot only legal freedom, but a tolerant public opinion, an absence of\nthat instinctive inquisition into our neighbors\u2019 affairs which, under\nthe guise of upholding a high moral standard, enables good people\nto indulge unconsciously a disposition to cruelty and persecution.\nThinking ill of others is not in itself a good reason for thinking well\nof ourselves. But so long as this is not recognized, and so long as the\nState can manufacture public opinion, except in the rare cases where it\nis revolutionary, public opinion must be reckoned as a definite part of\nthe power of the State.\n\nThe power of the State outside its own borders is in the main derived\nfrom war or the threat of war. Some power is derived from the ability\nto persuade its citizens to lend money or not to lend it, but this\nis unimportant in comparison with the power derived from armies and\nnavies. The external activity of the State\u2014with exceptions so rare\nas to be negligible\u2014is selfish. Sometimes selfishness is mitigated\nby the need of retaining the goodwill of other States, but this only\nmodifies the methods employed, not the ends pursued. The ends pursued,\napart from mere defense against other States, are, on the one hand,\nopportunities for successful exploitation of weak or uncivilized\ncountries, on the other hand, power and prestige, which are considered\nmore glorious and less material than money. In pursuit of these\nobjects, no State hesitates to put to death innumerable foreigners\nwhose happiness is not compatible with exploitation or subjection, or\nto devastate territories into which it is thought necessary to strike\nterror. Apart from the present war, such acts have been performed\nwithin the last twenty years by many minor States and by all the\nGreat Powers[7] except Austria; and in the case of Austria only the\nopportunity, not the will, was lacking.\n\nWhy do men acquiesce in the power of the State? There are many reasons,\nsome traditional, some very present and pressing.\n\nThe traditional reason for obedience to the State is personal loyalty\nto the sovereign. European States grew up under the feudal system,\nand were originally the several territories owned by feudal chiefs.\nBut this source of obedience has decayed, and probably now counts for\nlittle except in Japan, and to a lesser extent in Russia.\n\nTribal feeling, which always underlay loyalty to the sovereign, has\nremained as strong as it ever was, and is now the chief support for\nthe power of the State. Almost every man finds it essential to his\nhappiness to feel himself a member of a group, animated by common\nfriendships and enmities and banded together for defense and attack.\nBut such groups are of two kinds: there are those which are essentially\nenlargements of the family, and there are those which are based upon a\nconscious common purpose. Nations belong to the first kind, Churches to\nthe second. At times when men are profoundly swayed by creeds national\ndivisions tend to break down, as they did in the wars of religion\nafter the Reformation. At such times a common creed is a stronger bond\nthan a common nationality. To a much slighter extent, the same thing\nhas occurred in the modern world with the rise of socialism. Men who\ndisbelieve in private property, and feel the capitalist the real enemy,\nhave a bond which transcends national divisions. It has not been found\nstrong enough to resist the passions aroused by the present war, but\nit has made them less bitter among socialists than among others, and\nhas kept alive the hope of a European community to be reconstructed\nwhen the war is over. In the main, however, the universal disbelief in\ncreeds has left tribal feeling triumphant, and has made nationalism\nstronger than at any previous period of the world\u2019s history. A few\nsincere Christians, a few sincere socialists, have found in their creed\na force capable of resisting the assaults of national passion, but they\nhave been too few to influence the course of events or even to cause\nserious anxiety to the Governments.\n\nIt is chiefly tribal feeling that generates the unity of a national\nState, but it is not only tribal feeling that generates its strength.\nIts strength results principally from two fears, neither of which is\nunreasonable: the fear of crime and anarchy within, and the fear of\naggression from without.\n\nThe internal orderliness of a civilized community is a great\nachievement, chiefly brought about by the increased authority of the\nState. It would be inconvenient if peaceable citizens were constantly\nin imminent risk of being robbed and murdered. Civilized life would\nbecome almost impossible if adventurous people could organize private\narmies for purposes of plunder. These conditions existed in the Middle\nAges, and have not passed away without a great struggle. It is thought\nby many\u2014especially by the rich, who derive the greatest advantage from\nlaw and order\u2014that any diminution in the power of the State might\nbring back a condition of universal anarchy. They regard strikes as\nportents of dissolution. They are terrified by such organizations as\nthe Conf\u00e9d\u00e9ration G\u00e9n\u00e9rale du Travail and the International Workers\nof the World. They remember the French Revolution, and feel a not\nunnatural desire to keep their heads on their shoulders. They dread\nparticularly any political theory which seems to excuse private crimes,\nsuch as sabotage and political assassination. Against these dangers\nthey see no protection except the maintenance of the authority of the\nState, and the belief that all resistance to the State is wicked.\n\nFear of the danger within is enhanced by fear of the danger without.\nEvery State is exposed at all times to the risk of foreign invasion.\nNo means has hitherto been devised for minimizing this risk except the\nincrease of armaments. But the armaments which are nominally intended\nto repel invasion may also be used to invade. And so the means adopted\nto diminish the external fear have the effect of increasing it, and\nof enormously enhancing the destructiveness of war when it does break\nout. In this way a reign of terror becomes universal, and the State\nacquires everywhere something of the character of the Comit\u00e9 du Salut\nPublic.\n\nThe tribal feeling out of which the State develops is natural, and the\nfear by which the State is strengthened is reasonable under present\ncircumstances. And in addition to these two, there is a third source of\nstrength in a national State, namely patriotism in its religious aspect.\n\nPatriotism is a very complex feeling, built up out of primitive\ninstincts and highly intellectual convictions. There is love of home\nand family and friends, making us peculiarly anxious to preserve our\nown country from invasion. There is the mild instinctive liking for\ncompatriots as against foreigners. There is pride, which is bound up\nwith the success of the community to which we feel that we belong.\nThere is a belief, suggested by pride but reinforced by history, that\none\u2019s own nation represents a great tradition and stands for ideals\nthat are important to the human race. But besides all these, there is\nanother element, at once nobler and more open to attack, an element of\nworship, of willing sacrifice, of joyful merging of the individual life\nin the life of the nation. This religious element in patriotism is\nessential to the strength of the State, since it enlists the best that\nis in most men on the side of national sacrifice.\n\nThe religious element in patriotism is reinforced by education,\nespecially by a knowledge of the history and literature of one\u2019s own\ncountry, provided it is not accompanied by much knowledge of the\nhistory and literature of other countries. In every civilized country\nall instruction of the young emphasizes the merits of their own nation\nand the faults of other nations. It comes to be universally believed\nthat one\u2019s own nation, because of its superiority, deserves support in\na quarrel, however the quarrel may have originated. This belief is so\ngenuine and deep that it makes men endure patiently, almost gladly, the\nlosses and hardships and sufferings entailed by war. Like all sincerely\nbelieved religions, it gives an outlook on life, based upon instinct\nbut sublimating it, causing a devotion to an end greater than any\npersonal end, but containing many personal ends as it were in solution.\n\nPatriotism as a religion is unsatisfactory because of its lack of\nuniversality. The good at which it aims is a good for one\u2019s own\nnation only, not for all mankind. The desires which it inspires in\nan Englishman are not the same as the desires which it inspires in\na German. A world full of patriots may be a world full of strife.\nThe more intensely a nation believes in its patriotism, the more\nfanatically indifferent it will become to the damage suffered by other\nnations. When once men have learnt to subordinate their own good to the\ngood of a larger whole, there can be no valid reason for stopping short\nof the human race. It is the admixture of national pride that makes\nit so easy in practice for men\u2019s impulses towards sacrifice to stop\nshort at the frontiers of their own country. It is this admixture that\npoisons patriotism, and makes it inferior, as a religion, to beliefs\nwhich aim at the salvation of all mankind. We cannot avoid having more\nlove for our own country than for other countries, and there is no\nreason why we should wish to avoid it, any more than we should wish to\nlove all individual men and women equally. But any adequate religion\nwill lead us to temper inequality of affection by love of justice, and\nto universalize our aims by realizing the common needs of man. This\nchange was effected by Christianity in Judaism, and must be effected in\nany merely national religion before it can be purged of evil.\n\nIn practice, patriotism has many other enemies to contend with.\nCosmopolitanism cannot fail to grow as men acquire more knowledge of\nforeign countries by education and travel. There is also a kind of\nindividualism which is continually increasing, a realization that every\nman ought to be as nearly free as possible to choose his own ends, not\ncompelled by a geographical accident to pursue ends forced upon him by\nthe community. Socialism, syndicalism, and anti-capitalist movements\ngenerally, are against patriotism in their tendency, since they make\nmen aware that the present State is largely concerned in defending the\nprivileges of the rich, and that many of the conflicts between States\nhave their origin in the financial interests of a few plutocrats.\nThis kind of opposition is perhaps temporary, a mere incident in the\nstruggle of labor to acquire power. Australia, where labor feels its\ntriumph secure, is full of patriotism and militarism, based upon\ndetermination to prevent foreign labor from sharing the benefits of a\nprivileged position. It is not unlikely that England might develop a\nsimilar nationalism if it became a socialist State. But it is probable\nthat such nationalism would be purely defensive. Schemes of foreign\naggression, entailing great loss of life and wealth in the nation which\nadopts them, would hardly be initiated except by those whose instincts\nof dominion have been sharpened through the power derived from private\nproperty and the institutions of the capitalist State.\n\nThe evil wrought in the modern world by the excessive power of the\nState is very great, and very little recognized.\n\nThe chief harm wrought by the State is promotion of efficiency in\nwar. If all States increase their strength, the balance of power is\nunchanged, and no one State has a better chance of victory than before.\nAnd when the means of offense exist, even though their original purpose\nmay have been defensive, the temptation to use them is likely, sooner\nor later, to prove overwhelming. In this way the very measures which\npromoted security within the borders of the State promote insecurity\nelsewhere. It is of the essence of the State to suppress violence\nwithin and to facilitate it without. The State makes an entirely\nartificial division of mankind and of our duties toward them: towards\none group we are bound by the law, towards the other only by the\nprudence of highwaymen. The State is rendered evil by its exclusions,\nand by the fact that, whenever it embarks upon aggressive war, it\nbecomes a combination of men for murder and robbery. The present system\nis irrational, since external and internal anarchy must be both right\nor both wrong. It is supported because, so long as others adopt it,\nit is thought the only road to safety, and because it secures the\npleasures of triumph and dominion, which cannot be obtained in a good\ncommunity. If these pleasures were no longer sought, or no longer\npossible to obtain, the problem of securing safety from invasion would\nnot be difficult.\n\nApart from war, the modern great State is harmful from its vastness\nand the resulting sense of individual helplessness. The citizen who is\nout of sympathy with the aims of the State, unless he is a man of very\nrare gifts, cannot hope to persuade the State to adopt purposes which\nseem to him better. Even in a democracy, all questions except a very\nfew are decided by a small number of officials and eminent men; and\neven the few questions which are left to the popular vote are decided\nby a diffused mass-psychology, not by individual initiative. This is\nespecially noticeable in a country like the United States, where, in\nspite of democracy, most men have a sense of almost complete impotence\nin regard to all large issues. In so vast a country the popular will\nis like one of the forces of Nature, and seems nearly as much outside\nthe control of any one man. This state of things leads, not only in\nAmerica but in all large States, to something of the weariness and\ndiscouragement that we associate with the Roman Empire. Modern States,\nas opposed to the small city States of ancient Greece or medieval\nItaly, leave little room for initiative, and fail to develop in most\nmen any sense of ability to control their political destinies. The\nfew men who achieve power in such States are men of abnormal ambition\nand thirst for dominion, combined with skill in cajolery and subtlety\nin negotiation. All the rest are dwarfed by knowledge of their own\nimpotence.\n\nA curious survival from the old monarchical idea of the State is the\nbelief that there is some peculiar wickedness in a wish to secede\non the part of any section of the population. If Ireland or Poland\ndesires independence, it is thought obvious that this desire must be\nstrenuously resisted, and any attempt to secure it is condemned as\n\u201chigh treason.\u201d The only instance to the contrary that I can remember\nis the separation of Norway and Sweden, which was commended but not\nimitated. In other cases, nothing but defeat in war has induced States\nto part with territory: although this attitude is taken for granted, it\nis not one which would be adopted if the State had better ends in view.\nThe reason for its adoption is that the chief end of almost all great\nStates is power, especially power in war. And power in war is often\nincreased by the inclusion of unwilling citizens. If the well-being\nof the citizens were the end in view, the question whether a certain\narea should be included, or should form a separate State, would be left\nfreely to the decision of that area. If this principle were adopted,\none of the main reasons for war would be obviated, and one of the most\ntyrannical elements in the State would be removed.\n\nThe principal source of the harm done by the State is the fact that\npower is its chief end. This is not the case in America, because\nAmerica is safe against aggression;[8] but in all other great nations\nthe chief aim of the State is to possess the greatest possible\namount of external force. To this end, the liberty of the citizens\nis curtailed, and anti-militarist propaganda is severely punished.\nThis attitude is rooted in pride and fear: pride, which refuses to\nbe conciliatory, and fear, which dreads the results of foreign pride\nconflicting with our own pride. It seems something of a historical\naccident that these two passions, which by no means exhaust the\npolitical passions of the ordinary man, should so completely determine\nthe external policy of the State. Without pride, there would be no\noccasion for fear: fear on the part of one nation is due to the\nsupposed pride of another nation. Pride of dominion, unwillingness to\ndecide disputes otherwise than by force or the threat of force, is a\nhabit of mind greatly encouraged by the possession of power. Those\nwho have long been in the habit of exercising power become autocratic\nand quarrelsome, incapable of regarding an equal otherwise than as a\nrival. It is notorious that head masters\u2019 conferences are more liable\nto violent disagreements than most similar bodies: each head master\ntries to treat the others as he treats his own boys; they resent such\ntreatment, and he resents their resentment. Men who have the habit\nof authority are peculiarly unfit for friendly negotiation; but the\nofficial relations of States are mainly in the hands of men with a\ngreat deal of authority in their own country. This is, of course, more\nparticularly the case where there is a monarch who actually governs.\nIf is less true where there is a governing oligarchy, and still less\ntrue where there is some approach to real democracy. But it is true to\na considerable extent in all countries, because Prime Ministers and\nForeign Secretaries are necessarily men in authority. The first step\ntowards remedying this state of things is a genuine interest in foreign\naffairs on the part of the ordinary citizen, and an insistence that\nnational pride shall not be allowed to jeopardize his other interests.\nDuring war, when he is roused, he is willing to sacrifice everything\nto pride; but in quiet times he will be far more ready than men in\nauthority to realize that foreign affairs, like private concerns, ought\nto be settled amicably according to principles, not brutally by force\nor the threat of force.\n\nThe effect of personal bias in the men who actually compose the\nGovernment may be seen very clearly in labor disputes. French\nsyndicalists affirm that the State is simply a product of capitalism, a\npart of the weapons which capital employs in its conflict with labor.\nEven in democratic States there is much to bear out this view. In\nstrikes it is common to order out the soldiers to coerce the strikers;\nalthough the employers are much fewer, and much easier to coerce,\nthe soldiers are never employed against them. When labor troubles\nparalyze the industry of a country, it is the men who are thought to be\nunpatriotic, not the masters, though clearly the responsibility belongs\nto both sides. The chief reason for this attitude on the part of\nGovernments is that the men composing them belong, by their success if\nnot by their origin, to the same class as the great employers of labor.\nTheir bias and their associates combine to make them view strikes\nand lockouts from the standpoint of the rich. In a democracy public\nopinion and the need of conciliating political supporters partially\ncorrect these plutocratic influences, but the correction is always only\npartial. And the same influences which warp the views of Governments\non labor questions also warp their views on foreign affairs, with the\nadded disadvantage that the ordinary citizen has much fewer means of\narriving at an independent judgment.\n\nThe excessive power of the State, partly through internal oppression,\nbut principally through war and the fear of war, is one of the chief\ncauses of misery in the modern world, and one of the main reasons for\nthe discouragement which prevents men from growing to their full mental\nstature. Some means of curing this excessive power must be found if men\nare not to be organized into despair, as they were in the Roman Empire.\n\nThe State has one purpose which is on the whole good, namely, the\nsubstitution of law for force in the relations of men. But this\npurpose can only be fully achieved by a world-State, without which\ninternational relations cannot be made subject to law. And although\nlaw is better than force, law is still not the best way of settling\ndisputes. Law is too static, too much on the side of what is decaying,\ntoo little on the side of what is growing. So long as law is in theory\nsupreme, it will have to be tempered, from time to time, by internal\nrevolution and external war. These can only be prevented by perpetual\nreadiness to alter the law in accordance with the present balance of\nforces. If this is not done, the motives for appealing to force will\nsooner or later become irresistible. A world-State or federation of\nStates, if it is to be successful, will have to decide questions, not\nby the legal maxims which would be applied by the Hague tribunal, but\nas far as possible in the same sense in which they would be decided by\nwar. The function of authority should be to render the appeal to force\nunnecessary, not to give decisions contrary to those which would be\nreached by force.\n\nThis view may be thought by some to be immoral. It may be said that the\nobject of civilization should be to secure justice, not to give the\nvictory to the strong. But when this antithesis is allowed to pass,\nit is forgotten that love of justice may itself set force in motion.\nA Legislature which wishes to decide an issue in the same way as it\nwould be decided if there were an appeal to force will necessarily take\naccount of justice, provided justice is so flagrantly on one side that\ndisinterested parties are willing to take up the quarrel. If a strong\nman assaults a weak man in the streets of London, the balance of force\nis on the side of the weak man, because, even if the police did not\nappear, casual passers-by would step in to defend him. It is sheer cant\nto speak of a contest of might against right, and at the same time to\nhope for a victory of the right. If the contest is really between might\nand right, that _means_ that right will be beaten. What is obscurely\nintended, when this phrase is used, is that the stronger side is only\nrendered stronger by men\u2019s sense of right. But men\u2019s sense of right is\nvery subjective, and is only one factor in deciding the preponderance\nof force. What is desirable in a Legislature is, not that it should\ndecide by its personal sense of right, but that it should decide in a\nway which is felt to make an appeal to force unnecessary.\n\nHaving considered what the State ought not to do, I come now to what it\nought to do.\n\nApart from war and the preservation of internal order, there are\ncertain more positive functions which the State performs, and certain\nothers which it ought to perform.\n\nWe may lay down two principles as regards these positive functions.\n\nFirst: there are matters in which the welfare of the whole community\ndepends upon the practically universal attainment of a certain minimum;\nin such cases the State has the right to insist upon this minimum being\nattained.\n\nSecondly: there are ways in which, by insisting upon the maintenance of\nlaw, the State, if it does nothing further, renders possible various\nforms of injustice which would otherwise be prevented by the anger\nof their victims. Such injustices ought, as far as possible, to be\nprevented by the State.\n\nThe most obvious example of a matter where the general welfare\ndepends upon a universal minimum is sanitation and the prevention of\ninfectious diseases. A single case of plague, if it is neglected, may\ncause disaster to a whole community. No one can reasonably maintain,\non general grounds of liberty, that a man suffering from plague ought\nto be left free to spread infection far and wide. Exactly similar\nconsiderations apply to drainage, notification of fevers, and kindred\nmatters. The interference with liberty remains an evil, but in some\ncases it is clearly a smaller evil than the spread of disease which\nliberty would produce. The stamping out of malaria and yellow fever by\ndestroying mosquitoes is perhaps the most striking example of the good\nwhich can be done in this way. But when the good is small or doubtful,\nand the interference with liberty is great, it becomes better to endure\na certain amount of preventable disease rather than suffer a scientific\ntyranny.\n\nCompulsory education comes under the same head as sanitation. The\nexistence of ignorant masses in a population is a danger to the\ncommunity; when a considerable percentage are illiterate, the whole\nmachinery of government has to take account of the fact. Democracy in\nits modern form would be quite impossible in a nation where many men\ncannot read. But in this case there is not the same need of absolute\nuniversality as in the case of sanitary measures. The gipsies, whose\nmode of life has been rendered almost impossible by the education\nauthorities, might well have been allowed to remain a picturesque\nexception. But apart from such rather unimportant exceptions, the\nargument for compulsory education is irresistible.\n\nWhat the State does for the care of children at present is less than\nwhat ought to be done, not more. Children are not capable of looking\nafter their own interests, and parental responsibility is in many\nways inadequate. It is clear that the State alone can insist upon the\nchildren being provided with the minimum of knowledge and health which,\nfor the time being, satisfies the conscience of the community.\n\nThe encouragement of scientific research is another matter which\ncomes rightly within the powers of the State, because the benefits of\ndiscoveries accrue to the community, while the investigations are\nexpensive and never individually certain of achieving any result. In\nthis matter, Great Britain lags behind all other civilized countries.\n\nThe second kind of powers which the State ought to possess are those\nthat aim at diminishing economic injustice. It is this kind that\nhas been emphasized by socialists. The law creates or facilitates\nmonopolies, and monopolies are able to exact a toll from the community.\nThe most glaring example is the private ownership of land. Railways\nare at present controlled by the State, since rates are fixed by law;\nand it is clear that if they were uncontrolled, they would acquire a\ndangerous degree of power.[9] Such considerations, if they stood alone,\nwould justify complete socialism. But I think justice, by itself, is,\nlike law, too static to be made a supreme political principle: it does\nnot, when it has been achieved, contain any seeds of new life or any\nimpetus to development. For this reason, when we wish to remedy an\ninjustice, it is important to consider whether, in so doing, we shall\nbe destroying the incentive to some form of vigorous action which is\non the whole useful to the community. No such form of action, so far as\nI can see, is associated with private ownership of land or of any other\nsource of economic rent; if this is the case, it follows that the State\nought to be the primary recipient of rent.\n\nIf all these powers are allowed to the State, what becomes of the\nattempt to rescue individual liberty from its tyranny?\n\nThis is part of the general problem which confronts all those who still\ncare for the ideals which inspired liberalism, namely the problem of\ncombining liberty and personal initiative with organization. Politics\nand economics are more and more dominated by vast organizations, in\nface of which the individual is in danger of becoming powerless. The\nState is the greatest of these organizations, and the most serious\nmenace to liberty. And yet it seems that many of its functions must be\nextended rather than curtailed.\n\nThere is one way by which organization and liberty can be combined, and\nthat is, by securing power for voluntary organizations, consisting of\nmen who have chosen to belong to them because they embody some purpose\nwhich all their members consider important, not a purpose imposed by\naccident or outside force. The State, being geographical, cannot be a\nwholly voluntary association, but for that very reason there is need\nof a strong public opinion to restrain it from a tyrannical use of its\npowers. This public opinion, in most matters, can only be secured by\ncombinations of those who have certain interests or desires in common.\n\nThe positive purposes of the State, over and above the preservation\nof order, ought as far as possible to be carried out, not by the\nState itself, but by independent organizations, which should be left\ncompletely free so long as they satisfied the State that they were\nnot falling below a necessary minimum. This occurs to a certain\nlimited extent at present in regard to elementary education. The\nuniversities, also, may be regarded as acting for the State in the\nmatter of higher education and research, except that in their case no\nminimum of achievement is exacted. In the economic sphere, the State\nought to exercise control, but ought to leave initiative to others.\nThere is every reason to multiply opportunities of initiative, and to\ngive the greatest possible share of initiative to each individual,\nfor if this is not done there will be a general sense of impotence\nand discouragement. There ought to be a constant endeavor to leave\nthe more positive aspects of government in the hands of voluntary\norganizations, the purpose of the State being merely to exact\nefficiency and to secure an amicable settlement of disputes, whether\nwithin or without its own borders. And with this ought to be combined\nthe greatest possible toleration of exceptions and the least possible\ninsistence upon uniform system.\n\nA good deal may be achieved through local government by trades as\nwell as by areas. This is the most original idea in syndicalism, and\nit is valuable as a check upon the tyranny which the community may be\ntempted to exercise over certain classes of its members. All strong\norganizations which embody a sectional public opinion, such as trade\nunions, co\u00f6perative societies, professions, and universities, are to be\nwelcomed as safeguards of liberty and opportunities for initiative. And\nthere is need of a strong public opinion in favor of liberty itself.\nThe old battles for freedom of thought and freedom of speech, which it\nwas thought had been definitively won, will have to be fought all over\nagain, since most men are only willing to accord freedom to opinions\nwhich happen to be popular. Institutions cannot preserve liberty\nunless men realize that liberty is precious and are willing to exert\nthemselves to keep it alive.\n\nThere is a traditional objection to every _imperium in imperio_, but\nthis is only the jealousy of the tyrant. In actual fact, the modern\nState contains many organizations which it cannot defeat, except\nperhaps on rare occasions when public opinion is roused against them.\nMr. Lloyd George\u2019s long fight with the medical profession over the\nInsurance Act was full of Homeric fluctuations of fortune. The Welsh\nminers recently routed the whole power of the State, backed by an\nexcited nation. As for the financiers, no Government would dream\nof a conflict with them. When all other classes are exhorted to\npatriotism, they are allowed their 4\u00bd per cent. and an increase of\ninterest on their consols. It is well understood on all sides that an\nappeal to _their_ patriotism would show gross ignorance of the world.\nIt is against the traditions of the State to extort their money by\nthreatening to withdraw police protection. This is not due to the\ndifficulty of such a measure, but only to the fact that great wealth\nwins genuine admiration from us all, and we cannot bear to think of a\nvery rich man being treated with disrespect.\n\nThe existence of strong organizations within the State, such as\ntrade unions, is not undesirable except from the point of view of\nthe official who wishes to wield unlimited power, or of the rival\norganizations, such as federations of employers, which would prefer a\ndisorganized adversary. In view of the vastness of the State, most men\ncan find little political outlet for initiative except in subordinate\norganizations formed for specific purposes. Without an outlet for\npolitical initiative, men lose their social vigor and their interest\nin public affairs: they become a prey to corrupt wire-pullers, or to\nsensation-mongers who have the art of capturing a tired and vagrant\nattention. The cure for this is to increase rather than diminish the\npowers of voluntary organizations, to give every man a sphere of\npolitical activity small enough for his interest and his capacity,\nand to confine the functions of the State, as far as possible, to the\nmaintenance of peace among rival interests. The essential merit of\nthe State is that it prevents the internal use of force by private\npersons. Its essential demerits are, that it promotes the external\nuse of force, and that, by its great size, it makes each individual\nfeel impotent even in a democracy. I shall return in a later lecture\nto the question of preventing war. The prevention of the sense of\nindividual impotence cannot be achieved by a return to the small City\nState, which would be as reactionary as a return to the days before\nmachinery. It must be achieved by a method which is in the direction of\npresent tendencies. Such a method would be the increasing devolution of\npositive political initiative to bodies formed voluntarily for specific\npurposes, leaving the State rather in the position of a federal\nauthority or a court of arbitration. The State will then confine itself\nto insisting upon _some_ settlement of rival interests: its only\nprinciple in deciding what is the right settlement will be an attempt\nto find the measure most acceptable, on the whole, to all the parties\nconcerned. This is the direction in which democratic States naturally\ntend, except in so far as they are turned aside by war or the fear of\nwar. So long as war remains a daily imminent danger, the State will\nremain a Moloch, sacrificing sometimes the life of the individual, and\nalways his unfettered development, to the barren struggle for mastery\nin the competition with other States. In internal as in external\naffairs, the worst enemy of freedom is war.\n\n\n\n\nIII\n\nWAR AS AN INSTITUTION\n\n\nIn spite of the fact that most nations at most times, are at peace, war\nis one of the permanent institutions of all free communities, just as\nParliament is one of our permanent institutions in spite of the fact\nthat it is not always sitting. It is war as a permanent institution\nthat I wish to consider: why men tolerate it; why they ought not to\ntolerate it; what hope there is of their coming not to tolerate it; and\nhow they could abolish it if they wished to do so.\n\nWar is a conflict between two groups, each of which attempts to kill\nand maim as many as possible of the other group in order to achieve\nsome object which it desires. The object is generally either power or\nwealth. It is a pleasure to exercise authority over other men, and it\nis a pleasure to live on the produce of other men\u2019s labor. The victor\nin war can enjoy more of these delights than the vanquished. But war,\nlike all other natural activities, is not so much prompted by the end\nwhich it has in view as by an impulse to the activity itself. Very\noften men desire an end, not on its own account, but because their\nnature demands the actions which will lead to the end. And so it is\nin this case: the ends to be achieved by war appear in prospect far\nmore important than they will appear when they are realized, because\nwar itself is a fulfilment of one side of our nature. If men\u2019s actions\nsprang from desires for what would in fact bring happiness, the purely\nrational arguments against war would have long ago put an end to\nit. What makes war difficult to suppress is that it springs from an\nimpulse, rather than from a calculation of the advantages to be derived\nfrom war.\n\nWar differs from the employment of force by the police through the fact\nthat the actions of the police are ordered by a neutral authority,\nwhereas in war it is the parties to the dispute themselves who set\nforce in motion. This distinction is not absolute, since the State is\nnot always wholly neutral in internal disturbances. When strikers are\nshot down, the State is taking the side of the rich. When opinions\nadverse to the existing State are punished, the State is obviously one\nof the parties to the dispute. And from the suppression of individual\nopinion up to civil war all gradations are possible. But broadly\nspeaking, force employed according to laws previously laid down by\nthe community as a whole may be distinguished from force employed by\none community against another on occasions of which the one community\nis the sole judge. I have dwelt upon this difference because I do not\nthink the use of force by the police can be wholly eliminated, and I\nthink a similar use of force in international affairs is the best hope\nof permanent peace. At present, international affairs are regulated by\nthe principle that a nation must not intervene unless its interests\nare involved: diplomatic usage forbids intervention for the mere\nmaintenance of international law. America may protest when American\ncitizens are drowned by German submarines, but must not protest when no\nAmerican citizens are involved. The case would be analogous in internal\naffairs if the police would only interfere with murder when it happened\nthat a policeman had been killed. So long as this principle prevails in\nthe relations of States, the power of neutrals cannot be effectively\nemployed to prevent war.\n\nIn every civilized country two forces co\u00f6perate to produce war.\nIn ordinary times some men\u2014usually a small proportion of the\npopulation\u2014are bellicose: they predict war, and obviously are not\nunhappy in the prospect. So long as war is not imminent, the bulk of\nthe population pay little attention to these men, and do not actively\neither support or oppose them. But when war begins to seem very near, a\nwar fever seizes hold of people, and those who were already bellicose\nfind themselves enthusiastically supported by all but an insignificant\nminority. The impulses which inspire war fever are rather different\nfrom those which make some men bellicose in ordinary times. Only\neducated men are likely to be warlike at ordinary times, since they\nalone are vividly aware of other countries or of the part which their\nown nation might play in the affairs of the world. But it is only their\nknowledge, not their nature, that distinguishes them from their more\nignorant compatriots.\n\nTo take the most obvious example, German policy, in recent years before\nthe war, was not averse from war, and not friendly to England. It is\nworth while to try to understand the state of mind from which this\npolicy sprang.\n\nThe men who direct German policy are, to begin with, patriotic to an\nextent which is almost unknown in France and England. The interests of\nGermany appear to them unquestionably the only interests they need take\ninto account. What injury may, in pursuing those interests, be done to\nother nations, what destruction may be brought upon populations and\ncities, what irreparable damage may result to civilization, it is not\nfor them to consider. If they can confer what they regard as benefits\nupon Germany, everything else is of no account.\n\nThe second noteworthy point about German policy is that its conception\nof national welfare is mainly competitive. It is not the _intrinsic_\nwealth of Germany, whether materially or mentally, that the rulers\nof Germany consider important: it is the _comparative_ wealth in\nthe competition with other civilized countries. For this reason the\ndestruction of good things abroad appears to them almost as desirable\nas the creation of good things in Germany. In most parts of the world\nthe French are regarded as the most civilized of nations: their art\nand their literature and their way of life have an attraction for\nforeigners which those of Germany do not have. The English have\ndeveloped political liberty, and the art of maintaining an Empire with\na minimum of coercion, in a way for which Germany, hitherto, has shown\nno aptitude. These are grounds for envy, and envy wishes to destroy\nwhat is good in other countries. German militarists, quite rightly,\njudged that what was best in France and England would probably be\ndestroyed by a great war, even if France and England were not in the\nend defeated in the actual fighting. I have seen a list of young French\nwriters killed on the battlefield; probably the German authorities have\nalso seen it, and have reflected with joy that another year of such\nlosses will destroy French literature for a generation\u2014perhaps, through\nloss of tradition, for ever. Every outburst against liberty in our more\nbellicose newspapers, every incitement to persecution of defenseless\nGermans, every mark of growing ferocity in our attitude, must be read\nwith delight by German patriots, as proving their success in robbing us\nof our best, and in forcing us to imitate whatever is worst in Prussia.\n\nBut what the rulers of Germany have envied us most was power and\nwealth\u2014the power derived from command of the seas and the straits,\nthe wealth derived from a century of industrial supremacy. In both\nthese respects they feel that their deserts are higher than ours. They\nhave devoted far more thought and skill to military and industrial\norganization. Their average of intelligence and knowledge is far\nsuperior; their capacity for pursuing an attainable end, unitedly and\nwith forethought, is infinitely greater. Yet we, merely (as they think)\nbecause we had a start in the race, have achieved a vastly larger\nEmpire than they have, and an enormously greater control of capital.\nAll this is unbearable; yet nothing but a great war can alter it.\n\nBesides all these feelings, there is in many Germans, especially in\nthose who know us best, a hot hatred of us on account of our pride.\nFarinata degli Uberti surveyed Hell \u201c_come avesse lo Inferno in gran\ndispitto_.\u201d Just so, by German accounts, English officer prisoners\nlook round them among their captors\u2014holding aloof, as though the enemy\nwere noxious, unclean creatures, toads or slugs or centipedes, which\na man does not touch willingly, and shakes off with loathing if he\nis forced to touch them for a moment. It is easy to imagine how the\ndevils hated Farinata, and inflicted greater pains upon him than upon\nhis neighbors, hoping to win recognition by some slight wincing on his\npart, driven to frenzy by his continuing to behave as if they did not\nexist. In just the same way the Germans are maddened by our spiritual\nimmobility. At bottom we have regarded the Germans as one regards flies\non a hot day: they are a nuisance, one has to brush them off, but it\nwould not occur to one to be turned aside by them. Now that the initial\ncertainty of victory has faded, we begin to be affected inwardly by the\nGermans. In time, if we continue to fail in our military enterprises,\nwe shall realize that they are human beings, not just a tiresome\ncircumstance. Then perhaps we shall hate them with a hatred which they\nwill have no reason to resent. And from such a hatred it will be only a\nshort journey to a genuine _rapprochement_.\n\nThe problem which must be solved, if the future of the world is to be\nless terrible than its present, is the problem of preventing nations\nfrom getting into the moods of England and Germany at the outbreak of\nthe war. These two nations as they were at that moment might be taken\nas almost mythical representatives of pride and envy\u2014cold pride and\nhot envy. Germany declaimed passionately: \u201cYou, England, swollen and\ndecrepit, you overshadow my whole growth\u2014your rotting branches keep\nthe sun from shining upon me and the rain from nourishing me. Your\nspreading foliage must be lopped, your symmetrical beauty must be\ndestroyed, that I too may have freedom to grow, that my young vigor may\nno longer be impeded by your decaying mass.\u201d England, bored and aloof,\nunconscious of the claims of outside forces, attempted absent-mindedly\nto sweep away the upstart disturber of meditation; but the upstart was\nnot swept away, and remains so far with every prospect of making good\nhis claim. The claim and the resistance to it are alike folly. Germany\nhad no good ground for envy; we had no good ground for resisting\nwhatever in Germany\u2019s demands was compatible with our continued\nexistence. Is there any method of averting such reciprocal folly in the\nfuture?\n\nI think if either the English or the Germans were capable of thinking\nin terms of individual welfare rather than national pride, they would\nhave seen that, at every moment during the war the wisest course would\nhave been to conclude peace at once, on the best terms that could have\nbeen obtained. This course, I am convinced, would have been the wisest\nfor each separate nation, as well as for civilization in general. The\nutmost evil that the enemy could inflict through an unfavorable peace\nwould be a trifle compared to the evil which all the nations inflict\nupon themselves by continuing to fight. What blinds us to this obvious\nfact is pride, the pride which makes the acknowledgment of defeat\nintolerable, and clothes itself in the garb of reason by suggesting\nall kinds of evils which are supposed to result from admitting defeat.\nBut the only real evil of defeat is humiliation, and humiliation is\nsubjective; we shall not feel humiliated if we become persuaded that\nit was a mistake to engage in the war, and that it is better to pursue\nother tasks not dependent upon world-dominion. If either the English or\nthe Germans could admit this inwardly, any peace which did not destroy\nnational independence could be accepted without real loss in the\nself-respect which is essential to a good life.\n\nThe mood in which Germany embarked upon the war was abominable, but it\nwas a mood fostered by the habitual mood of England. We have prided\nourselves upon our territory and our wealth; we have been ready at all\ntimes to defend by force of arms what we have conquered in India and\nAfrica. If we had realized the futility of empire, and had shown a\nwillingness to yield colonies to Germany without waiting for the threat\nof force, we might have been in a position to persuade the Germans\nthat their ambitions were foolish, and that the respect of the world\nwas not to be won by an imperialist policy. But by our resistance we\nshowed that we shared their standards. We, being in possession, became\nenamored of the _status quo_. The Germans were willing to make war to\nupset the _status quo_; we were willing to make war to prevent its\nbeing upset in Germany\u2019s favor. So convinced were we of the sacredness\nof the _status quo_ that we never realized how advantageous it was to\nus, or how, by insisting upon it, we shared the responsibility for the\nwar. In a world where nations grow and decay, where forces change and\npopulations become cramped, it is not possible or desirable to maintain\nthe _status quo_ for ever. If peace is to be preserved, nations must\nlearn to accept unfavorable alterations of the map without feeling that\nthey must first be defeated in war, or that in yielding they incur a\nhumiliation.\n\nIt is the insistence of legalists and friends of peace upon the\nmaintenance of the _status quo_ that has driven Germany into\nmilitarism. Germany had as good a right to an Empire as any other Great\nPower, but could only acquire an Empire through war. Love of peace has\nbeen too much associated with a static conception of international\nrelations. In economic disputes we all know that whatever is vigorous\nin the wage-earning classes is opposed to \u201cindustrial peace,\u201d because\nthe existing distribution of wealth is felt to be unfair. Those who\nenjoy a privileged position endeavor to bolster up their claims by\nappealing to the desire for peace, and decrying those who promote\nstrife between the classes. It never occurs to them that by opposing\nchanges without considering whether they are just, the capitalists\nshare the responsibility for the class war. And in exactly the same\nway England shares the responsibility for Germany\u2019s war. If actual war\nis ever to cease there will have to be political methods of achieving\nthe results which now can only be achieved by successful fighting, and\nnations will have voluntarily to admit adverse claims which appear just\nin the judgment of neutrals.\n\nIt is only by some such admission, embodying itself in a Parliament\nof the nations with full power to alter the distribution of territory,\nthat militarism can be permanently overcome. It may be that the present\nwar will bring, in the Western nations, a change of mood and outlook\nsufficient to make such an institution possible. It may be that more\nwars and more destruction will be necessary before the majority of\ncivilized men rebel against the brutality and futile destruction of\nmodern war. But unless our standards of civilization and our powers\nof constructive thought are to be permanently lowered, I cannot doubt\nthat, sooner or later, reason will conquer the blind impulses which now\nlead nations into war. And if a large majority of the Great Powers had\na firm determination that peace should be preserved, there would be\nno difficulty in devising diplomatic machinery for the settlement of\ndisputes, and in establishing educational systems which would implant\nin the minds of the young an ineradicable horror of the slaughter which\nthey are now taught to admire.\n\nBesides the conscious and deliberate forces leading to war, there are\nthe inarticulate feelings of common men, which, in most civilized\ncountries, are always ready to burst into war fever at the bidding of\nstatesmen. If peace is to be secure, the readiness to catch war fever\nmust be somehow diminished. Whoever wishes to succeed in this must\nfirst understand what war fever is and why it arises.\n\nThe men who have an important influence in the world, whether for\ngood or evil, are dominated as a rule by a threefold desire: they\ndesire, first, an activity which calls fully into play the faculties in\nwhich they feel that they excel; secondly, the sense of successfully\novercoming resistance; thirdly, the respect of others on account of\ntheir success. The third of these desires is sometimes absent: some\nmen who have been great have been without the \u201clast infirmity,\u201d and\nhave been content with their own sense of success, or merely with the\njoy of difficult effort. But as a rule all three are present. Some\nmen\u2019s talents are specialized, so that their choice of activities is\ncircumscribed by the nature of their faculties; other men have, in\nyouth, such a wide range of possible aptitudes that their choice is\nchiefly determined by the varying degrees of respect which public\nopinion gives to different kinds of success.\n\nThe same desires, usually in a less marked degree, exist in men who\nhave no exceptional talents. But such men cannot achieve anything\nvery difficult by their individual efforts; for them, as units, it is\nimpossible to acquire the sense of greatness or the triumph of strong\nresistance overcome. Their separate lives are unadventurous and dull.\nIn the morning they go to the office or the plow, in the evening they\nreturn tired and silent, to the sober monotony of wife and children.\nBelieving that security is the supreme good, they have insured against\nsickness and death, and have found an employment where they have little\nfear of dismissal and no hope of any great rise. But security, once\nachieved, brings a Nemesis of ennui. Adventure, imagination, risk,\nalso have their claims; but how can these claims be satisfied by the\nordinary wage-earner? Even if it were possible to satisfy them, the\nclaims of wife and children have priority and must not be neglected.\n\nTo this victim of order and good organization the realization comes,\nin some moment of sudden crisis, that he belongs to a nation, that his\nnation may take risks, may engage in difficult enterprises, enjoy the\nhot passion of doubtful combat, stimulate adventure and imagination\nby military expeditions to Mount Sinai and the Garden of Eden. What\nhis nation does, in some sense, he does; what his nation suffers, he\nsuffers. The long years of private caution are avenged by a wild plunge\ninto public madness. All the horrid duties of thrift and order and\ncare which he has learnt to fulfil in private are thought not to apply\nto public affairs: it is patriotic and noble to be reckless for the\nnation, though it would be wicked to be reckless for oneself. The old\nprimitive passions, which civilization has denied, surge up all the\nstronger for repression. In a moment imagination and instinct travel\nback through the centuries, and the wild man of the woods emerges from\nthe mental prison in which he has been confined. This is the deeper\npart of the psychology of the war fever.\n\nBut besides the irrational and instinctive element in the war\nfever, there is always also, if only as a liberator of primitive\nimpulse, a certain amount of quasi-rational calculation and what is\neuphemistically called \u201cthought.\u201d The war fever very seldom seizes a\nnation unless it believes that it will be victorious. Undoubtedly,\nunder the influence of excitement, men over-estimate their chances\nof success; but there is some proportion between what is hoped and\nwhat a rational man would expect. Holland, though quite as humane as\nEngland, had no impulse to go to war on behalf of Belgium, because\nthe likelihood of disaster was so obviously overwhelming. The London\npopulace, if they had known how the war was going to develop, would\nnot have rejoiced as they did on that August Bank Holiday long ago.\nA nation which has had a recent experience of war, and has come to\nknow that a war is almost always more painful than it is expected\nto be at the outset, becomes much less liable to war fever until a\nnew generation grows up. The element of rationality in war fever is\nrecognized by Governments and journalists who desire war, as may be\nseen by their invariably minimizing the perils of a war which they\nwish to provoke. At the beginning of the South African War Sir William\nButler was dismissed, apparently for suggesting that sixty thousand men\nand three months might not suffice to subdue the Boer Republics. And\nwhen the war proved long and difficult, the nation turned against those\nwho had made it. We may assume, I think, without attributing too great\na share to reason in human affairs, that a nation would not suffer from\nwar fever in a case where every sane man could see that defeat was\nvery probable.\n\nThe importance of this lies in the fact that it would make aggressive\nwar very unlikely if its chances of success were very small. If the\npeace-loving nations were sufficiently strong to be obviously capable\nof defeating the nations which were willing to wage aggressive war,\nthe peace-loving nations might form an alliance and agree to fight\njointly against any nation which refused to submit its claims to an\nInternational Council. Before the present war we might have reasonably\nhoped to secure the peace of the world in some such way; but the\nmilitary strength of Germany has shown that such a scheme has no great\nchance of success at present. Perhaps at some not far distant date it\nmay be made more feasible by developments of policy in America.\n\nThe economic and political forces which make for war could be easily\ncurbed if the will to peace existed strongly in all civilized nations.\nBut so long as the populations are liable to war fever, all work for\npeace must be precarious; and if war fever could not be aroused,\npolitical and economic forces would be powerless to produce any long\nor very destructive war. The fundamental problem for the pacifist is\nto prevent the impulse towards war which seizes whole communities from\ntime to time. And this can only be done by far-reaching changes in\neducation, in the economic structure of society, and in the moral code\nby which public opinion controls the lives of men and women.[10]\n\nA great many of the impulses which now lead nations to go to war are\nin themselves essential to any vigorous or progressive life. Without\nimagination and love of adventure a society soon becomes stagnant and\nbegins to decay. Conflict, provided it is not destructive and brutal,\nis necessary in order to stimulate men\u2019s activities, and to secure the\nvictory of what is living over what is dead or merely traditional. The\nwish for the triumph of one\u2019s cause, the sense of solidarity with large\nbodies of men, are not things which a wise man will wish to destroy. It\nis only the outcome in death and destruction and hatred that is evil.\nThe problem is, to keep these impulses, without making war the outlet\nfor them.\n\nAll Utopias that have hitherto been constructed are intolerably dull.\nAny man with any force in him would rather live in this world, with\nall its ghastly horrors, than in Plato\u2019s Republic or among Swift\u2019s\nHouyhnhnms. The men who make Utopias proceed upon a radically false\nassumption as to what constitutes a good life. They conceive that it\nis possible to imagine a certain state of society and a certain way of\nlife which should be once for all recognized as good, and should then\ncontinue for ever and ever. They do not realize that much the greater\npart of a man\u2019s happiness depends upon activity, and only a very small\nremnant consists in passive enjoyment. Even the pleasures which do\nconsist in enjoyment are only satisfactory, to most men, when they\ncome in the intervals of activity. Social reformers, like inventors of\nUtopias, are apt to forget this very obvious fact of human nature. They\naim rather at securing more leisure, and more opportunity for enjoying\nit, than at making work itself more satisfactory, more consonant with\nimpulse, and a better outlet for creativeness and the desire to employ\none\u2019s faculties. Work, in the modern world, is, to almost all who\ndepend on earnings, mere work, not an embodiment of the desire for\nactivity. Probably this is to a considerable extent inevitable. But in\nso far as it can be prevented something will be done to give a peaceful\noutlet to some of the impulses which lead to war.\n\nIt would, of course, be easy to bring about peace if there were no\nvigor in the world. The Roman Empire was pacific and unproductive; the\nAthens of Pericles was the most productive and almost the most warlike\ncommunity known to history. The only form of production in which our\nown age excels is science, and in science Germany, the most warlike\nof Great Powers, is supreme. It is useless to multiply examples; but\nit is plain that the very same vital energy which produces all that\nis best also produces war and the love of war. This is the basis of\nthe opposition to pacifism felt by many men whose aims and activities\nare by no means brutal. Pacifism, in practice, too often expresses\nmerely lack of force, not the refusal to use force in thwarting others.\nPacifism, if it is to be both victorious and beneficent, must find an\noutlet, compatible with humane feeling, for the vigor which now leads\nnations into war and destruction.\n\nThis problem was considered by William James in an admirable address on\n\u201cThe Moral Equivalent of War,\u201d delivered to a congress of pacifists\nduring the Spanish-American War of 1898. His statement of the problem\ncould not be bettered; and so far as I know, he is the only writer who\nhas faced the problem adequately. But his solution is not adequate;\nperhaps no adequate solution is possible. The problem, however, is\none of degree: every additional peaceful outlet for men\u2019s energies\ndiminishes the force which urges nations towards war, and makes war\nless frequent and less fierce. And as a question of degree, it is\ncapable of more or less partial solutions.[11]\n\nEvery vigorous man needs some kind of contest, some sense of resistance\novercome, in order to feel that he is exercising his faculties. Under\nthe influence of economics, a theory has grown up that what men desire\nis wealth; this theory has tended to verify itself, because people\u2019s\nactions are more often determined by what they think they desire than\nby what they really desire. The less active members of a community\noften do in fact desire wealth, since it enables them to gratify a\ntaste for passive enjoyment, and to secure respect without exertion.\nBut the energetic men who make great fortunes seldom desire the actual\nmoney: they desire the sense of power through a contest, and the joy of\nsuccessful activity. For this reason, those who are the most ruthless\nin making money are often the most willing to give it away; there are\nmany notorious examples of this among American millionaires. The only\nelement of truth in the economic theory that these men are actuated\nby desire for money is this: owing to the fact that money is what is\n_believed_ to be desirable, the making of money is recognized as the\ntest of success. What is desired is visible and indubitable success;\nbut this can only be achieved by being one of the few who reach a goal\nwhich many men would wish to reach. For this reason, public opinion\nhas a great influence in directing the activities of vigorous men. In\nAmerica a millionaire is more respected than a great artist; this leads\nmen who might become either the one or the other to choose to become\nmillionaires. In Renaissance Italy great artists were more respected\nthan millionaires, and the result was the opposite of what it is in\nAmerica.\n\nSome pacifists and all militarists deprecate social and political\nconflicts. In this the militarists are in the right, from their point\nof view; but the pacifists seem to me mistaken. Conflicts of party\npolitics, conflicts between capital and labor, and generally all\nthose conflicts of principle which do not involve war, serve many\nuseful purposes, and do very little harm. They increase men\u2019s interest\nin public affairs, they afford a comparatively innocent outlet for\nthe love of contest, and they help to alter laws and institutions,\nwhen changing conditions or greater knowledge create the wish for an\nalteration. Everything that intensifies political life tends to bring\nabout a peaceful interest of the same kind as the interest which leads\nto desire for war. And in a democratic community political questions\ngive every voter a sense of initiative and power and responsibility\nwhich relieves his life of something of its narrow unadventurousness.\nThe object of the pacifist should be to give men more and more\npolitical control over their own lives, and in particular to introduce\ndemocracy into the management of industry, as the syndicalists advise.\n\nThe problem for the reflective pacifist is two-fold: how to keep his\nown country at peace, and how to preserve the peace of the world. It\nis impossible that the peace of the world should be preserved while\nnations are liable to the mood in which Germany entered upon the\nwar\u2014unless, indeed, one nation were so obviously stronger than all\nothers combined as to make war unnecessary for that one and hopeless\nfor all the others. As this war has dragged on its weary length,\nmany people must have asked themselves whether national independence\nis worth the price that has to be paid for it. Would it not perhaps\nbe better to secure universal peace by the supremacy of one Power?\n\u201cTo secure peace by a world federation\u201d\u2014so a submissive pacifist may\nargue\u2014\u201cwould require some faint glimmerings of reason in rulers and\npeoples, and is therefore out of the question; but to secure it by\nallowing Germany to dictate terms to Europe would be easy, in view of\nGermany\u2019s amazing military success. Since there is no other way of\nending war\u201d\u2014so our advocate of peace at any price would contend\u2014\u201clet\nus adopt this way, which happens at the moment to be open to us.\u201d It\nis worth while to consider this view more attentively than is commonly\nconsidered.\n\nThere is one great historic example of a long peace secured in this\nway; I mean the Roman Empire. We in England boast of the _Pax\nBritannica_ which we have imposed, in this way, upon the warring races\nand religions in India. If we are right in boasting of this, if we have\nin fact conferred a benefit upon India by enforced peace, the Germans\nwould be right in boasting if they could impose a _Pax Germanica_ upon\nEurope. Before the war, men might have said that India and Europe\nare not analogous, because India is less civilized than Europe; but\nnow, I hope, no one would have the effrontery to maintain anything so\npreposterous. Repeatedly in modern history there has been a chance of\nachieving European unity by the hegemony of a single State; but always\nEngland, in obedience to the doctrine of the Balance of Power, has\nprevented this consummation, and preserved what our statesmen have\ncalled the \u201cliberties of Europe.\u201d It is this task upon which we are now\nengaged. But I do not think our statesmen, or any others among us, have\nmade much effort to consider whether the task is worth what it costs.\n\nIn one case we were clearly wrong: in our resistance to revolutionary\nFrance. If revolutionary France could have conquered the Continent and\nGreat Britain, the world would now be happier, more civilized, and\nmore free, as well as more peaceful. But revolutionary France was a\nquite exceptional case, because its early conquests were made in the\nname of liberty, against tyrants, not against peoples; and everywhere\nthe French armies were welcomed as liberators by all except rulers and\nbigots. In the case of Philip II we were as clearly right as we were\nwrong in 1793. But in both cases our action is not to be judged by some\nabstract diplomatic conception of the \u201cliberties of Europe,\u201d but by the\nideals of the Power seeking hegemony, and by the probable effect upon\nthe welfare of ordinary men and women throughout Europe.\n\n\u201cHegemony\u201d is a very vague word, and everything turns upon the degree\nof interference with liberty which it involves. There is a degree of\ninterference with liberty which is fatal to many forms of national\nlife; for example, Italy in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries\nwas crushed by the supremacy of Spain and Austria. If the Germans\nwere actually to annex French provinces, as they did in 1871, they\nwould probably inflict a serious injury upon those provinces, and make\nthem less fruitful for civilization in general. For such reasons\nnational liberty is a matter of real importance, and a Europe actually\ngoverned by Germany would probably be very dead and unproductive. But\nif \u201chegemony\u201d merely means increased weight in diplomatic questions,\nmore coaling stations and possessions in Africa, more power of securing\nadvantageous commercial treaties, then it can hardly be supposed that\nit would do any vital damage to other nations; certainly it would not\ndo so much damage as the present war is doing. I cannot doubt that,\nbefore the war, a hegemony of this kind would have abundantly satisfied\nthe Germans. But the effect of the war, so far, has been to increase\nimmeasurably all the dangers which it was intended to avert. We have\nnow only the choice between certain exhaustion of Europe in fighting\nGermany and possible damage to the national life of France by German\ntyranny. Stated in terms of civilization and human welfare, not in\nterms of national prestige, that is now in fact the issue.\n\nAssuming that war is not ended by one State conquering all the\nothers, the only way in which it can be permanently ended is by a\nworld-federation. So long as there are many sovereign States, each with\nits own Army, there can be no security that there will not be war.\nThere will have to be in the world only one Army and one Navy before\nthere will be any reason to think that wars have ceased. This means\nthat, so far as the military functions of the State are concerned,\nthere will be only one State, which will be world-wide.\n\nThe civil functions of the State\u2014legislative, administrative, and\njudicial\u2014have no very essential connection with the military functions,\nand there is no reason why both kinds of functions should normally be\nexercised by the same State. There is, in fact, every reason why the\ncivil State and the military State should be different. The greater\nmodern States are already too large for most civil purposes, but\nfor military purposes they are not large enough, since they are not\nworld-wide. This difference as to the desirable area for the two kinds\nof State introduces a certain perplexity and hesitation, when it is not\nrealized that the two functions have little necessary connection: one\nset of considerations points towards small States, the other towards\ncontinually larger States. Of course, if there were an international\nArmy and Navy, there would have to be some international authority\nto set them in motion. But this authority need never concern itself\nwith any of the internal affairs of national States: it need only\ndeclare the rules which should regulate their relations, and pronounce\njudicially when those rules have been so infringed as to call for the\nintervention of the international force. How easily the limit of the\nauthority could be fixed may be seen by many actual examples.\n\nThe civil and military State are often different in practice, for many\npurposes. The South American Republics are sovereign for all purposes\nexcept their relations with Europe, in regard to which they are subject\nto the United States: in dealings with Europe, the Army and Navy of the\nUnited States are their Army and Navy. Our self-governing Dominions\ndepend for their defense, not upon their own forces but upon our Navy.\nMost Governments, nowadays, do not aim at formal annexation of a\ncountry which they wish to incorporate, but only at a protectorate\u2014that\nis, civil autonomy subject to military control. Such autonomy is,\nof course, in practice incomplete, because it does not enable the\n\u201cprotected\u201d country to adopt measures which are vetoed by the Power\nin military control. But it may be very nearly complete, as in the\ncase of our self-governing Dominions. At the other extreme, it may\nbecome a mere farce, as in Egypt. In the case of an alliance, there is\ncomplete autonomy of the separate allied countries, together with what\nis practically a combination of their military forces into one single\nforce.\n\nThe great advantage of a large military State is that it increases the\narea over which internal war is not possible except by revolution. If\nEngland and Canada have a disagreement, it is taken as a matter of\ncourse that a settlement shall be arrived at by discussion, not by\nforce. Still more is this the case if Manchester and Liverpool have a\nquarrel, in spite of the fact that each is autonomous for many local\npurposes. No one would have thought it reasonable that Liverpool should\ngo to war to prevent the construction of the Manchester Ship Canal,\nalthough almost any two Great Powers would have gone to war over\nan issue of the same relative importance. England and Russia would\nprobably have gone to war over Persia if they had not been allies; as\nit is, they arrived by diplomacy at much the same iniquitous result as\nthey would otherwise have reached by fighting. Australia and Japan\nwould probably fight if they were both completely independent; but both\ndepend for their liberties upon the British Navy, and therefore they\nhave to adjust their differences peaceably.\n\nThe chief disadvantage of a large military State is that, when external\nwar occurs, the area affected is greater. The quadruple Entente forms,\nfor the present, one military State; the result is that, because\nof a dispute between Austria and Serbia, Belgium is devastated and\nAustralians are killed in the Dardanelles. Another disadvantage is\nthat it facilitates oppression. A large military State is practically\nomnipotent against a small State, and can impose its will, as England\nand Russia did in Persia and as Austria-Hungary has been doing in\nSerbia. It is impossible to make sure of avoiding oppression by any\npurely mechanical guarantees; only a liberal and humane spirit can\nafford a real protection. It has been perfectly possible for England\nto oppress Ireland, in spite of democracy and the presence of Irish\nMembers at Westminster. Nor has the presence of Poles in the Reichstag\nprevented the oppression of Prussian Poland. But democracy and\nrepresentative government undoubtedly make oppression less probable:\nthey afford a means by which those who might be oppressed can cause\ntheir wishes and grievances to be publicly known, they render it\ncertain that only a minority can be oppressed, and then only if the\nmajority are nearly unanimous in wishing to oppress them. Also the\npractice of oppression affords much more pleasure to the governing\nclasses, who actually carry it out, than to the mass of the population.\nFor this reason the mass of the population, where it has power, is\nlikely to be less tyrannical than an oligarchy or a bureaucracy.\n\nIn order to prevent war and at the same time preserve liberty it is\nnecessary that there should be only one military State in the world,\nand that when disputes between different countries arise, it should\nact according to the decision of a central authority. This is what\nwould naturally result from a federation of the world, if such a thing\never came about. But the prospect is remote, and it is worth while to\nconsider why it is so remote.\n\nThe unity of a nation is produced by similar habits, instinctive\nliking, a common history, and a common pride. The unity of a nation is\npartly due to intrinsic affinities between its citizens, but partly\nalso to the pressure and contrast of the outside world: if a nation\nwere isolated, it would not have the same cohesion or the same fervor\nof patriotism. When we come to alliances of nations, it is seldom\nanything except outside pressure that produces solidarity. England\nand America, to some extent, are drawn together by the same causes\nwhich often make national unity: a (more or less) common language,\nsimilar political institutions, similar aims in international politics.\nBut England, France, and Russia were drawn together solely by fear\nof Germany; if Germany had been annihilated by a natural cataclysm,\nthey would at once have begun to hate one another, as they did before\nGermany was strong. For this reason, the possibility of co\u00f6peration in\nthe present alliance against Germany affords no ground whatever for\nhoping that all the nations of the world might co\u00f6perate permanently in\na peaceful alliance. The present motive for cohesion, namely a common\nfear, would be gone, and could not be replaced by any other motive\nunless men\u2019s thoughts and purposes were very different from what they\nare now.\n\nThe ultimate fact from which war results is not economic or political,\nand does not rest upon any mechanical difficulty of inventing means\nfor the peaceful settlement of international disputes. The ultimate\nfact from which war results is the fact that a large proportion of\nmankind have an impulse to conflict rather than harmony, and can only\nbe brought to co\u00f6perate with others in resisting or attacking a common\nenemy. This is the case in private life as well as in the relations of\nStates. Most men, when they feel themselves sufficiently strong, set to\nwork to make themselves feared rather than loved; the wish to gain the\ngood opinion of others is confined, as a rule, to those who have not\nacquired secure power. The impulse to quarreling and self-assertion,\nthe pleasure of getting one\u2019s own way in spite of opposition, is native\nto most men. It is this impulse, rather than any motive of calculated\nself-interest, which produces war, and causes the difficulty of\nbringing about a World-State. And this impulse is not confined to one\nnation; it exists, in varying degrees, in all the vigorous nations of\nthe world.\n\nBut although this impulse is strong, there is no reason why it should\nbe allowed to lead to war. It was exactly the same impulse which led to\nduelling; yet now civilized men conduct their private quarrels without\nbloodshed. If political contest within a World-State were substituted\nfor war, imagination would soon accustom itself to the new situation,\nas it has accustomed itself to absence of duelling. Through the\ninfluence of institutions and habits, without any fundamental change\nin human nature, men would learn to look back upon war as we look upon\nthe burning of heretics or upon human sacrifice to heathen deities. If\nI were to buy a revolver costing several pounds, in order to shoot my\nfriend with a view to stealing sixpence out of his pocket, I should\nbe thought neither very wise nor very virtuous. But if I can get\nsixty-five million accomplices to join me in this criminal absurdity, I\nbecome one of a great and glorious nation, nobly sacrificing the cost\nof my revolver, perhaps even my life, in order to secure the sixpence\nfor the honor of my country. Historians, who are almost invariably\nsycophants, will praise me and my accomplices if we are successful,\nand say that we are worthy successors of the heroes who overthrew the\nmight of Imperial Rome. But if my opponents are victorious, if their\nsixpences are defended at the cost of many pounds each and the lives\nof a large proportion of the population, then historians will call me\na brigand (as I am), and praise the spirit and self-sacrifice of those\nwho resisted me.\n\nWar is surrounded with glamour, by tradition, by Homer and the Old\nTestament, by early education, by elaborate myths as to the importance\nof the issues involved, by the heroism and self-sacrifice, which\nthese myths call out. Jephthah sacrificing his daughter is a heroic\nfigure, but he would have let her live if he had not been deceived by\na myth. Mothers sending their sons to the battlefield are heroic, but\nthey are as much deceived as Jephthah. And, in both cases alike, the\nheroism which issues in cruelty would be dispelled if there were not\nsome strain of barbarism in the imaginative outlook from which myths\nspring. A God who can be pleased by the sacrifice of an innocent girl\ncould only be worshiped by men to whom the thought of receiving such\na sacrifice is not wholly abhorrent. A nation which believes that its\nwelfare can only be secured by suffering and inflicting hundreds of\nthousands of equally horrible sacrifices, is a nation which has no very\nspiritual conception of what constitutes national welfare. It would\nbe better a hundredfold to forgo material comfort, power, pomp, and\noutward glory than to kill and be killed, to hate and be hated, to\nthrow away in a mad moment of fury the bright heritage of the ages.\nWe have learnt gradually to free our God from the savagery with which\nthe primitive Israelites and the Fathers endowed Him: few of us now\nbelieve that it is His pleasure to torture most of the human race in an\neternity of hell-fire. But we have not yet learnt to free our national\nideals from the ancient taint. Devotion to the nation is perhaps the\ndeepest and most widespread religion of the present age. Like the\nancient religions, it demands its persecutions, its holocausts, its\nlurid heroic cruelties; like them, it is noble, primitive, brutal, and\nmad. Now, as in the past, religion, lagging behind private consciences\nthrough the weight of tradition, steels the hearts of men against mercy\nand their minds against truth. If the world is to be saved, men must\nlearn to be noble without being cruel, to be filled with faith and yet\nopen to truth, to be inspired by great purposes without hating those\nwho try to thwart them. But before this can happen, men must first face\nthe terrible realization that the gods before whom they have bowed down\nwere false gods and the sacrifices they have made were vain.\n\n\n\n\nIV\n\nPROPERTY\n\n\nAmong the many gloomy novelists of the realistic school, perhaps the\nmost full of gloom is Gissing. In common with all his characters, he\nlives under the weight of a great oppression: the power of the fearful\nand yet adored idol of Money. One of his typical stories is \u201cEve\u2019s\nRansom,\u201d where the heroine, with various discreditable subterfuges,\nthrows over the poor man whom she loves in order to marry the rich man\nwhose income she loves still better. The poor man, finding that the\nrich man\u2019s income has given her a fuller life and a better character\nthan the poor man\u2019s love could have given her, decides that she has\ndone quite right, and that he deserves to be punished for his lack of\nmoney. In this story, as in his other books, Gissing has set forth,\nquite accurately, the actual dominion of money, and the impersonal\nworship which it exacts from the great majority of civilized mankind.\n\nGissing\u2019s facts are undeniable, and yet his attitude produces a revolt\nin any reader who has vital passions and masterful desires. His worship\nof money is bound up with his consciousness of inward defeat. And in\nthe modern world generally, it is the decay of life which has promoted\nthe religion of material goods; and the religion of material goods, in\nits turn, has hastened the decay of life on which it thrives. The man\nwho worships money has ceased to hope for happiness through his own\nefforts or in his own activities: he looks upon happiness as a passive\nenjoyment of pleasures derived from the outside world. The artist or\nthe lover does not worship money in his moments of ardor, because\nhis desires are specific, and directed towards objects which only he\ncan create. And conversely, the worshiper of money can never achieve\ngreatness as an artist or a lover.\n\nLove of money has been denounced by moralists since the world began.\nI do not wish to add another to the moral denunciations, of which the\nefficacy in the past has not been encouraging. I wish to show how the\nworship of money is both an effect and a cause of diminishing vitality,\nand how our institutions might be changed so as to make the worship\nof money grow less and the general vitality grow more. It is not the\ndesire for money as a means to definite ends that is in question. A\nstruggling artist may desire money in order to have leisure for his\nart, but this desire is finite, and can be satisfied fully by a very\nmodest sum. It is the _worship_ of money that I wish to consider: the\nbelief that all values may be measured in terms of money, and that\nmoney is the ultimate test of success in life. This belief is held in\nfact, if not in words, by multitudes of men and women, and yet it is\nnot in harmony with human nature, since it ignores vital needs and the\ninstinctive tendency towards some specific kind of growth. It makes\nmen treat as unimportant those of their desires which run counter to\nthe acquisition of money, and yet such desires are, as a rule, more\nimportant to well-being than any increase of income. It leads men to\nmutilate their own natures from a mistaken theory of what constitutes\nsuccess, and to give admiration to enterprises which add nothing to\nhuman welfare. It promotes a dead uniformity of character and purpose,\na diminution in the joy of life, and a stress and strain which leaves\nwhole communities weary, discouraged, and disillusioned.\n\nAmerica, the pioneer of Western progress, is thought by many to display\nthe worship of money in its most perfect form. A well-to-do American,\nwho already has more than enough money to satisfy all reasonable\nrequirements, almost always continues to work at his office with\nan assiduity which would only be pardonable if starvation were the\nalternative.\n\nBut England, except among a small minority, is almost as much given\nover to the worship of money as America. Love of money in England\ntakes, as a rule, the form of snobbishly desiring to maintain a certain\nsocial status, rather than of striving after an indefinite increase\nof income. Men postpone marriage until they have an income enabling\nthem to have as many rooms and servants in their house as they feel\nthat their dignity requires. This makes it necessary for them while\nthey are young to keep a watch upon their affections, lest they should\nbe led into an imprudence: they acquire a cautious habit of mind, and\na fear of \u201cgiving themselves away,\u201d which makes a free and vigorous\nlife impossible. In acting as they do they imagine that they are being\nvirtuous, since they would feel it a hardship for a woman to be asked\nto descend to a lower social status than that of her parents, and a\ndegradation to themselves to marry a woman whose social status was not\nequal to their own. The things of nature are not valued in comparison\nwith money. It is not thought a hardship for a woman to have to accept,\nas her only experience of love, the prudent and limited attentions of\na man whose capacity for emotion has been lost during years of wise\nrestraint or sordid relations with women whom he did not respect.\nThe woman herself does not know that it is a hardship; for she, too,\nhas been taught prudence for fear of a descent in the social scale,\nand from early youth she has had it instilled into her that strong\nfeeling does not become a young woman. So the two unite to slip through\nlife in ignorance of all that is worth knowing. Their ancestors were\nnot restrained from passion by the fear of hell-fire, but they are\nrestrained effectually by a worse fear, the fear of coming down in the\nworld.\n\nThe same motives which lead men to marry late also lead them to limit\ntheir families. Professional men wish to send their sons to a public\nschool, though the education they will obtain is no better than at a\ngrammar school, and the companions with whom they will associate are\nmore vicious. But snobdom has decided that public schools are best, and\nfrom its verdict there is no appeal. What makes them the best is that\nthey are the most expensive. And the same social struggle, in varying\nforms, runs through all classes except the very highest and the very\nlowest. For this purpose men and women make great moral efforts, and\nshow amazing powers of self-control; but all their efforts and all\ntheir self-control, being not used for any creative end, serve merely\nto dry up the well-spring of life within them, to make them feeble,\nlistless, and trivial. It is not in such a soil that the passion which\nproduces genius can be nourished. Men\u2019s souls have exchanged the\nwilderness for the drawing-room: they have become cramped and petty\nand deformed, like Chinese women\u2019s feet. Even the horrors of war have\nhardly awakened them from the smug somnambulism of respectability.\nAnd it is chiefly the worship of money that has brought about this\ndeathlike slumber of all that makes men great.\n\nIn France the worship of money takes the form of thrift. It is not\neasy to make a fortune in France, but an inherited competence is very\ncommon, and where it exists the main purpose of life is to hand it\non undiminished, if not increased. The French _rentier_ is one of the\ngreat forces in international politics: it is he through whom France\nhas been strengthened in diplomacy and weakened in war, by increasing\nthe supply of French capital and diminishing the supply of French men.\nThe necessity of providing a _dot_ for daughters, and the subdivision\nof property by the law of inheritance, have made the family more\npowerful, as an institution, than in any other civilized country. In\norder that the family may prosper, it is kept small, and the individual\nmembers are often sacrificed to it. The desire for family continuity\nmakes men timid and unadventurous: it is only in the organized\nproletariat that the daring spirit survives which made the Revolution\nand led the world in political thought and practice. Through the\ninfluence of money, the strength of the family has become a weakness\nto the nation by making the population remain stationary and even tend\nto decline. The same love of safety is beginning to produce the same\neffects elsewhere; but in this, as in many better things, France has\nled the way.\n\nIn Germany the worship of money is more recent than in France, England,\nand America; indeed, it hardly existed until after the Franco-Prussian\nWar. But it has been adopted now with the same intensity and\nwhole-heartedness which have always marked German beliefs. It is\ncharacteristic that, as in France the worship of money is associated\nwith the family, so in Germany it is associated with the State. Liszt,\nin deliberate revolt against the English economists, taught his\ncompatriots to think of economics in national terms, and the German\nwho develops a business is felt, by others as well as by himself, to\nbe performing a service to the State. Germans believe that England\u2019s\ngreatness is due to industrialism and Empire, and that our success in\nthese is due to an intense nationalism. The apparent internationalism\nof our Free Trade policy they regard as mere hypocrisy. They have set\nthemselves to imitate what they believe we really are, with only the\nhypocrisy omitted. It must be admitted that their success has been\namazing. But in the process they have destroyed almost all that made\nGermany of value to the world, and they have not adopted whatever of\ngood there may have been among us, since that was all swept aside in\nthe wholesale condemnation of \u201chypocrisy.\u201d And in adopting our worst\nfaults, they have made them far worse by a system, a thoroughness, and\na unanimity of which we are happily incapable. Germany\u2019s religion is\nof great importance to the world, since Germans have a power of real\nbelief, and have the energy to acquire the virtues and vices which\ntheir creed demands. For the sake of the world, as well as for the sake\nof Germany, we must hope that they will soon abandon the worship of\nwealth which they have unfortunately learnt from us.\n\nWorship of money is no new thing, but it is a more harmful thing than\nit used to be, for several reasons. Industrialism has made work more\nwearisome and intense, less capable of affording pleasure and interest\nby the way to the man who has undertaken it for the sake of money. The\npower of limiting families has opened a new field for the operation\nof thrift. The general increase in education and self-discipline has\nmade men more capable of pursuing a purpose consistently in spite of\ntemptations, and when the purpose is against life it becomes more\ndestructive with every increase of tenacity in those who adopt it. The\ngreater productivity resulting from industrialism has enabled us to\ndevote more labor and capital to armies and navies for the protection\nof our wealth from envious neighbors, and for the exploitation of\ninferior races, which are ruthlessly wasted by the capitalist r\u00e9gime.\nThrough the fear of losing money, forethought and anxiety eat away\nmen\u2019s power of happiness, and the dread of misfortune becomes a greater\nmisfortune than the one which is dreaded. The happiest men and women,\nas we can all testify from our own experience, are those who are\nindifferent to money because they have some positive purpose which\nshuts it out. And yet all our political thought, whether imperialist,\nradical, or socialist, continues to occupy itself almost exclusively\nwith men\u2019s economic desires, as though they alone had real importance.\n\nIn judging of an industrial system, whether the one under which we\nlive or one proposed by reformers, there are four main tests which\nmay be applied. We may consider whether the system secures (1) the\nmaximum of production, or (2) justice in distribution, or (3) a\ntolerable existence for producers, or (4) the greatest possible\nfreedom and stimulus to vitality and progress. We may say, broadly,\nthat the present system aims only at the first of these objects, while\nsocialism aims at the second and third. Some defenders of the present\nsystem contend that technical progress is better promoted by private\nenterprise than it would be if industry were in the hands of the\nState; to this extent they recognize the fourth of the objects we have\nenumerated. But they recognize it only on the side of the goods and\nthe capitalist, not on the side of the wage-earner. I believe that the\nfourth is much the most important of the objects to be aimed at, that\nthe present system is fatal to it, and that orthodox socialism might\nwell prove equally fatal.\n\nOne of the least questioned assumptions of the capitalist system is,\nthat production ought to be increased in amount by every possible\nmeans: by new kinds of machinery, by employment of women and boys, by\nmaking hours of labor as long as is compatible with efficiency. Central\nAfrican natives, accustomed to living on raw fruits of the earth and\ndefeating Manchester by dispensing with clothes, are compelled to\nwork by a hut tax which they can only pay by taking employment under\nEuropean capitalists. It is admitted that they are perfectly happy\nwhile they remain free from European influences, and that industrialism\nbrings upon them, not only the unwonted misery of confinement, but\nalso death from diseases to which white men have become partially\nimmune. It is admitted that the best negro workers are the \u201craw\nnatives,\u201d fresh from the bush, uncontaminated by previous experience of\nwage-earning. Nevertheless, no one effectively contends that they ought\nto be preserved from the deterioration which we bring, since no one\neffectively doubts that it is good to increase the world\u2019s production\nat no matter what cost.\n\nThe belief in the importance of production has a fanatical\nirrationality and ruthlessness. So long as something is produced, what\nit is that is produced seems to be thought a matter of no account. Our\nwhole economic system encourages this view, since fear of unemployment\nmakes any kind of work a boon to wage-earners. The mania for increasing\nproduction has turned men\u2019s thoughts away from much more important\nproblems, and has prevented the world from getting the benefits it\nmight have got out of the increased productivity of labor.\n\nWhen we are fed and clothed and housed, further material goods are\nneeded only for ostentation.[12] With modern methods, a certain\nproportion of the population, without working long hours, could do all\nthe work that is really necessary in the way of producing commodities.\nThe time which is now spent in producing luxuries could be spent partly\nin enjoyment and country holidays, partly in better education, partly\nin work that is not manual or subserving manual work. We could, if we\nwished, have far more science and art, more diffused knowledge and\nmental cultivation, more leisure for wage-earners, and more capacity\nfor intelligent pleasures. At present not only wages, but almost all\nearned incomes, can only be obtained by working much longer hours than\nmen ought to work. A man who earns \u00a3800 a year by hard work could not,\nas a rule, earn \u00a3400 a year by half as much work. Often he could not\nearn anything if he were not willing to work practically all day and\nevery day. Because of the excessive belief in the value of production,\nit is thought right and proper for men to work long hours, and the\ngood that might result from shorter hours is not realized. And all the\ncruelties of the industrial system, not only in Europe but even more\nin the tropics, arouse only an occasional feeble protest from a few\nphilanthropists. This is because, owing to the distortion produced by\nour present economic methods, men\u2019s conscious desires, in such matters,\ncover only a very small part, and that not the most important part, of\nthe real needs affected by industrial work. If this is to be remedied,\nit can only be by a different economic system, in which the relation of\nactivity to needs will be less concealed and more direct.\n\nThe purpose of maximizing production will not be achieved in the long\nrun if our present industrial system continues. Our present system is\nwasteful of human material, partly through damage to the health and\nefficiency of industrial workers, especially when women and children\nare employed, partly through the fact that the best workers tend to\nhave small families and that the more civilized races are in danger of\ngradual extinction. Every great city is a center of race-deterioration.\nFor the case of London this has been argued with a wealth of\nstatistical detail by Sir H. Llewelyn Smith;[13] and it cannot easily\nbe doubted that it is equally true in other cases. The same is true of\nmaterial resources: the minerals, the virgin forests, and the newly\ndeveloped wheatfields of the world are being exhausted with a reckless\nprodigality which entails almost a certainty of hardship for future\ngenerations.\n\nSocialists see the remedy in State ownership of land and capital,\ncombined with a more just system of distribution. It cannot be denied\nthat our present system of distribution is indefensible from every\npoint of view, including the point of view of justice. Our system of\ndistribution is regulated by law, and is capable of being changed\nin many respects which familiarity makes us regard as natural and\ninevitable. We may distinguish four chief sources of recognized legal\nrights to private property: (1) a man\u2019s right to what he has made\nhimself; (2) the right to interest on capital which has been lent;\n(3) the ownership of land; (4) inheritance. These form a crescendo of\nrespectability: capital is more respectable than labor, land is more\nrespectable than capital, and any form of wealth is more respectable\nwhen it is inherited than when it has been acquired by our own\nexertions.\n\nA man\u2019s right to the produce of his own labor has never, in fact,\nhad more than a very limited recognition from the law. The early\nsocialists, especially the English forerunners of Marx, used to insist\nupon this right as the basis of a just system of distribution, but in\nthe complication of modern industrial processes it is impossible to\nsay what a man has produced. What proportion of the goods carried by a\nrailway should belong to the goods porters concerned in their journey?\nWhen a surgeon saves a man\u2019s life by an operation, what proportion of\nthe commodities which the man subsequently produces can the surgeon\njustly claim? Such problems are insoluble. And there is no special\njustice, even if they were soluble, in allowing to each man what he\nhimself produces. Some men are stronger, healthier, cleverer, than\nothers, but there is no reason for increasing these natural injustices\nby the artificial injustices of the law. The principle recommends\nitself partly as a way of abolishing the very rich, partly as a way of\nstimulating people to work hard. But the first of these objects can be\nbetter obtained in other ways, and the second ceases to be obviously\ndesirable as soon as we cease to worship money.\n\nInterest arises naturally in any community in which private property is\nunrestricted and theft is punished, because some of the most economical\nprocesses of production are slow, and those who have the skill to\nperform them may not have the means of living while they are being\ncompleted. But the power of lending money gives such great wealth\nand influence to private capitalists that unless strictly controlled\nit is not compatible with any real freedom for the rest of the\npopulation. Its effects at present, both in the industrial world and in\ninternational politics, are so bad that it seems imperatively necessary\nto devise some means of curbing its power.\n\nPrivate property in land has no justification except historically\nthrough power of the sword. In the beginning of feudal times, certain\nmen had enough military strength to be able to force those whom they\ndisliked not to live in a certain area. Those whom they chose to leave\non the land became their serfs, and were forced to work for them in\nreturn for the gracious permission to stay. In order to establish law\nin place of private force, it was necessary, in the main, to leave\nundisturbed the rights which had been acquired by the sword. The land\nbecame the property of those who had conquered it, and the serfs were\nallowed to give rent instead of service. There is no justification for\nprivate property in land, except the historical necessity to conciliate\nturbulent robbers who would not otherwise have obeyed the law. This\nnecessity arose in Europe many centuries ago, but in Africa the\nwhole process is often quite recent. It is by this process, slightly\ndisguised, that the Kimberley diamond mines and the Rand gold mines\nwere acquired in spite of prior native rights. It is a singular example\nof human inertia that men should have continued until now to endure\nthe tyranny and extortion which a small minority are able to inflict\nby their possession of the land. No good to the community, of any\nsort or kind, results from the private ownership of land. If men were\nreasonable, they would decree that it should cease to-morrow, with no\ncompensation beyond a moderate life income to the present holders.\n\nThe mere abolition of rent would not remove injustice, since it would\nconfer a capricious advantage upon the occupiers of the best sites and\nthe most fertile land. It is necessary that there should be rent, but\nit should be paid to the State or to some body which performs public\nservices; or, if the total rental were more than is required for such\npurposes, it might be paid into a common fund and divided equally among\nthe population. Such a method would be just, and would not only help to\nrelieve poverty, but would prevent wasteful employment of land and the\ntyranny of local magnates. Much that appears as the power of capital\nis really the power of the landowner\u2014for example, the power of railway\ncompanies and mine-owners. The evil and injustice of the present system\nare glaring, but men\u2019s patience of preventable evils to which they are\naccustomed is so great that it is impossible to guess when they will\nput an end to this strange absurdity.\n\nInheritance, which is the source of the greater part of the unearned\nincome in the world, is regarded by most men as a natural right.\nSometimes, as in England, the right is inherent in the owner of\nproperty, who may dispose of it in any way that seems good to him.\nSometimes, as in France, his right is limited by the right of his\nfamily to inherit at least a portion of what he has to leave. But\nneither the right to dispose of property by will nor the right of\nchildren to inherit from parents has any basis outside the instincts of\npossession and family pride.\n\nThere may be reasons for allowing a man whose work is exceptionally\nfruitful\u2014for instance, an inventor\u2014to enjoy a larger income than is\nenjoyed by the average citizen, but there can be no good reason for\nallowing this privilege to descend to his children and grandchildren\nand so on for ever. The effect is to produce an idle and exceptionally\nfortunate class, who are influential through their money, and opposed\nto reform for fear it should be directed against themselves. Their\nwhole habit of thought becomes timid, since they dread being forced\nto acknowledge that their position is indefensible; yet snobbery and\nthe wish to secure their favor leads almost the whole middle-class to\nape their manners and adopt their opinions. In this way they become a\npoison infecting the outlook of almost all educated people.\n\nIt is sometimes said that without the incentive of inheritance men\nwould not work so well. The great captains of industry, we are assured,\nare actuated by the desire to found a family, and would not devote\ntheir lives to unremitting toil without the hope of gratifying this\ndesire. I do not believe that any large proportion of really useful\nwork is done from this motive. Ordinary work is done for the sake of\na living, and the very best work is done for the interest of the work\nitself. Even the captains of industry, who are thought (perhaps by\nthemselves as well as by others) to be aiming at founding a family,\nare probably more actuated by love of power and by the adventurous\npleasure of great enterprises. And if there were some slight diminution\nin the amount of work done, it would be well worth while in order\nto get rid of the idle rich, with the oppression, feebleness, and\ncorruption which they inevitably introduce.\n\nThe present system of distribution is not based upon any principle.\nStarting from a system imposed by conquest, the arrangements made by\nthe conquerors for their own benefit were stereotyped by the law, and\nhave never been fundamentally reconstructed. On what principles ought\nthe reconstruction to be based?\n\nSocialism, which is the most widely advocated scheme of reconstruction,\naims chiefly at _justice_: the present inequalities of wealth are\nunjust, and socialism would abolish them. It is not essential to\nsocialism that all men should have the same income, but it is essential\nthat inequalities should be justified, in each case, by inequality\nof need or of service performed. There can be no disputing that the\npresent system is grossly unjust, and that almost all that is unjust\nin it is harmful. But I do not think justice alone is a sufficient\nprinciple upon which to base an economic reconstruction. Justice would\nbe secured if all were equally unhappy, as well as if all were equally\nhappy. Justice, by itself, when once realized, contains no source of\nnew life. The old type of Marxian revolutionary socialist never dwelt,\nin imagination, upon the life of communities after the establishment\nof the millennium. He imagined that, like the Prince and Princess in\na fairy story, they would live happily ever after. But that is not a\ncondition possible to human nature. Desire, activity, purpose, are\nessential to a tolerable life, and a millennium, though it may be a joy\nin prospect, would be intolerable if it were actually achieved.\n\nThe more modern socialists, it is true, have lost most of the religious\nfervor which characterized the pioneers, and view socialism as a\ntendency rather than a definite goal. But they still retain the view\nthat what is of most political importance to a man is his income,\nand that the principal aim of a democratic politician ought to be\nto increase the wages of labor. I believe this involves too passive\na conception of what constitutes happiness. It is true that, in the\nindustrial world, large sections of the population are too poor to\nhave any possibility of a good life; but it is not true that a good\nlife will come of itself with a diminution of poverty. Very few of the\nwell-to-do classes have a good life at present, and perhaps socialism\nwould only substitute the evils which now afflict the more prosperous\nin place of the evils resulting from destitution.\n\nIn the existing labor movement, although it is one of the most vital\nsources of change, there are certain tendencies against which reformers\nought to be on their guard. The labor movement is in essence a movement\nin favor of justice, based upon the belief that the sacrifice of the\nmany to the few is not necessary now, whatever may have been the case\nin the past. When labor was less productive and education was less\nwidespread, an aristocratic civilization may have been the only one\npossible: it may have been necessary that the many should contribute\nto the life of the few, if the few were to transmit and increase the\nworld\u2019s possessions in art and thought and civilized existence. But\nthis necessity is past or rapidly passing, and there is no longer any\nvalid objection to the claims of justice. The labor movement is morally\nirresistible, and is not now seriously opposed except by prejudice\nand simple self-assertion. All living thought is on its side; what is\nagainst it is traditional and dead. But although it itself is living,\nit is not by any means certain that it will make for life.\n\nLabor is led by current political thought in certain directions which\nwould become repressive and dangerous if they were to remain strong\nafter labor had triumphed. The aspirations of the labor movement are,\non the whole, opposed by the great majority of the educated classes,\nwho feel a menace, not only or chiefly to their personal comfort,\nbut to the civilized life in which they have their part, which\nthey profoundly believe to be important to the world. Owing to the\nopposition of the educated classes, labor, when it is revolutionary and\nvigorous, tends to despise all that the educated classes represent.\nWhen it is more respectful, as its leaders tend to be in England, the\nsubtle and almost unconscious influence of educated men is apt to sap\nrevolutionary ardor, producing doubt and uncertainty instead of the\nswift, simple assurance by which victory might have been won. The very\nsympathy which the best men in the well-to-do classes extend to labor,\ntheir very readiness to admit the justice of its claims, may have the\neffect of softening the opposition of labor leaders to the _status\nquo_, and of opening their minds to the suggestion that no fundamental\nchange is possible. Since these influences affect leaders much more\nthan the rank and file, they tend to produce in the rank and file a\ndistrust of leaders, and a desire to seek out new leaders who will be\nless ready to concede the claims of the more fortunate classes. The\nresult may be in the end a labor movement as hostile to the life of the\nmind as some terrified property-owners believe it to be at present.\n\nThe claims of justice, narrowly interpreted, may reinforce this\ntendency. It may be thought unjust that some men should have larger\nincomes or shorter hours of work than other men. But efficiency in\nmental work, including the work of education, certainly requires more\ncomfort and longer periods of rest than are required for efficiency\nin physical work, if only because mental work is not physiologically\nwholesome. If this is not recognized, the life of the mind may suffer\nthrough short-sightedness even more than through deliberate hostility.\n\nEducation suffers at present, and may long continue to suffer, through\nthe desire of parents that their children should earn money as soon\nas possible. Every one knows that the half-time system, for example,\nis bad; but the power of organized labor keeps it in existence. It is\nclear that the cure for this evil, as for those that are concerned with\nthe population question, is to relieve parents of the expense of their\nchildren\u2019s education, and at the same time to take away their right to\nappropriate their children\u2019s earnings.\n\nThe way to prevent any dangerous opposition of labor to the life of\nthe mind is not to oppose the labor movement, which is too strong to\nbe opposed with justice. The right way is, to show by actual practice\nthat thought is useful to labor, that without thought its positive aims\ncannot be achieved, and that there are men in the world of thought who\nare willing to devote their energies to helping labor in its struggle.\nSuch men, if they are wise and sincere, can prevent labor from becoming\ndestructive of what is living in the intellectual world.\n\nAnother danger in the aims of organized labor is the danger of\nconservatism as to methods of production. Improvements of machinery\nor organization bring great advantages to employers, but involve\ntemporary and sometimes permanent loss to the wage-earners. For this\nreason, and also from mere instinctive dislike of any change of habits,\nstrong labor organizations are often obstacles to technical progress.\nThe ultimate basis of all social progress must be increased technical\nefficiency, a greater result from a given amount of labor. If labor\nwere to offer an effective opposition to this kind of progress, it\nwould in the long run paralyze all other progress. The way to overcome\nthe opposition of labor is not by hostility or moral homilies, but by\ngiving to labor the direct interest in economical processes which now\nbelongs to the employers. Here, as elsewhere, the unprogressive part of\na movement which is essentially progressive is to be eliminated, not\nby decrying the whole movement but by giving it a wider sweep, making\nit more progressive, and leading it to demand an even greater change\nin the structure of society than any that it had contemplated in its\ninception.\n\nThe most important purpose that political institutions can achieve is\nto keep alive in individuals creativeness, vigor, vitality, and the\njoy of life. These things existed, for example, in Elizabethan England\nin a way in which they do not exist now. They stimulated adventure,\npoetry, music, fine architecture, and set going the whole movement out\nof which England\u2019s greatness has sprung in every direction in which\nEngland has been great. These things coexisted with injustice, but\noutweighed it, and made a national life more admirable than any that is\nlikely to exist under socialism.\n\nWhat is wanted in order to keep men full of vitality is opportunity,\nnot security. Security is merely a refuge from fear; opportunity is the\nsource of hope. The chief test of an economic system is not whether\nit makes men prosperous, or whether it secures distributive justice\n(though these are both very desirable), but whether it leaves men\u2019s\ninstinctive growth unimpeded. To achieve this purpose, there are two\nmain conditions which it should fulfil: it should not cramp men\u2019s\nprivate affections, and it should give the greatest possible outlet\nto the impulse of creation. There is in most men, until it becomes\natrophied by disuse, an instinct of constructiveness, a wish to make\nsomething. The men who achieve most are, as a rule, those in whom\nthis instinct is strongest: such men become artists, men of science,\nstatesmen, empire-builders, or captains of industry, according to the\naccidents of temperament and opportunity. The most beneficent and the\nmost harmful careers are inspired by this impulse. Without it, the\nworld would sink to the level of Tibet: it would subsist, as it is\nalways prone to do, on the wisdom of its ancestors, and each generation\nwould sink more deeply into a lifeless traditionalism.\n\nBut it is not only the remarkable men who have the instinct of\nconstructiveness, though it is they who have it most strongly. It is\nalmost universal in boys, and in men it usually survives in a greater\nor less degree, according to the greater or less outlet which it is\nable to find. Work inspired by this instinct is satisfying, even when\nit is irksome and difficult, because every effort is as natural as\nthe effort of a dog pursuing a hare. The chief defect of the present\ncapitalistic system is that work done for wages very seldom affords\nany outlet for the creative impulse. The man who works for wages has\nno choice as to what he shall make: the whole creativeness of the\nprocesses concentrate in the employer who orders the work to be done.\nFor this reason the work becomes a merely external means to a certain\nresult, the earning of wages. Employers grow indignant about the trade\nunion rules for limitation of output, but they have no right to be\nindignant, since they do not permit the men whom they employ to have\nany share in the purpose for which the work is undertaken. And so\nthe process of production, which should form one instinctive cycle,\nbecomes divided into separate purposes, which can no longer provide any\nsatisfaction of instinct for those who do the work.\n\nThis result is due to our industrial system, but it would not be\navoided by socialism. In a socialist community, the State would be\nthe employer, and the individual workman would have almost as little\ncontrol over his work as he has at present. Such control as he could\nexercise would be indirect, through political channels, and would be\ntoo slight and roundabout to afford any appreciable satisfaction. It is\nto be feared that instead of an increase of self-direction, there would\nonly be an increase of mutual interference.\n\nThe total abolition of private capitalistic enterprise, which is\ndemanded by Marxian socialism, seems scarcely necessary. Most men who\nconstruct sweeping systems of reform, like most of those who defend the\n_status quo_, do not allow enough for the importance of exceptions and\nthe undesirability of rigid system. Provided the sphere of capitalism\nis restricted, and a large proportion of the population are rescued\nfrom its dominion, there is no reason to wish it wholly abolished. As a\ncompetitor and a rival, it might serve a useful purpose in preventing\nmore democratic enterprises from sinking into sloth and technical\nconservatism. But it is of the very highest importance that capitalism\nshould become the exception rather than the rule, and that the bulk of\nthe world\u2019s industry should be conducted on a more democratic system.\n\nMuch of what is to be said against militarism in the State is also\nto be said against capitalism in the economic sphere. Economic\norganizations, in the pursuit of efficiency, grow larger and larger,\nand there is no possibility of reversing this process. The causes of\ntheir growth are technical, and large organizations must be accepted\nas an essential part of civilized society. But there is no reason\nwhy their government should be centralized and monarchical. The\npresent economic system, by robbing most men of initiative, is one\nof the causes of the universal weariness which devitalizes urban and\nindustrial populations, making them perpetually seek excitement, and\nleading them to welcome even the outbreak of war as a relief from the\ndreary monotony of their daily lives.\n\nIf the vigor of the nation is to be preserved, if we are to retain any\ncapacity for new ideas, if we are not to sink into a Chinese condition\nof stereotyped immobility, the monarchical organization of industry\nmust be swept away. All large businesses must become democratic and\nfederal in their government. The whole wage-earning system is an\nabomination, not only because of the social injustice which it causes\nand perpetuates, but also because it separates the man who does the\nwork from the purpose for which the work is done. The whole of the\ncontrolling purpose is concentrated in the capitalist; the purpose of\nthe wage-earner is not the produce, but the wages. The purpose of the\ncapitalist is to secure the maximum of work for the minimum of wages;\nthe purpose of the wage-earner is to secure the maximum of wages for\nthe minimum of work. A system involving this essential conflict of\ninterests cannot be expected to work smoothly or successfully, or to\nproduce a community with any pride in efficiency.\n\nTwo movements exist, one already well advanced, the other in its\ninfancy, which seem capable, between them, of effecting most of what\nis needed. The two movements I mean are the co\u00f6perative movement and\nsyndicalism. The co\u00f6perative movement is capable of replacing the wage\nsystem over a very wide field, but it is not easy to see how it could\nbe applied to such things as railways. It is just in these cases that\nthe principles of syndicalism are most easily applicable.\n\nIf organization is not to crush individuality, membership of an\norganization ought to be voluntary, not compulsory, and ought always\nto carry with it a voice in the management. This is not the case with\neconomic organizations, which give no opportunity for the pride and\npleasure that men find in an activity of their own choice, provided it\nis not utterly monotonous.\n\nIt must be admitted, however, that much of the mechanical work which is\nnecessary in industry is probably not capable of being made interesting\nin itself. But it will seem less tedious than it does at present if\nthose who do it have a voice in the management of their industry.\nAnd men who desire leisure for other occupations might be given the\nopportunity of doing uninteresting work during a few hours of the day\nfor a low wage; this would give an opening to all who wished for some\nactivity not immediately profitable to themselves. When everything\nthat is possible has been done to make work interesting, the residue\nwill have to be made endurable, as almost all work is at present, by\nthe inducement of rewards outside the hours of labor. But if these\nrewards are to be satisfactory, it is essential that the uninteresting\nwork should not necessarily absorb a man\u2019s whole energies, and that\nopportunities should exist for more or less continuous activities\nduring the remaining hours. Such a system might be an immeasurable\nboon to artists, men of letters, and others who produce for their own\nsatisfaction works which the public does not value soon enough to\nsecure a living for the producers; and apart from such rather rare\ncases, it might provide an opportunity for young men and women with\nintellectual ambitions to continue their education after they have\nleft school, or to prepare themselves for careers which require an\nexceptionally long training.\n\nThe evils of the present system result from the separation between the\nseveral interests of consumer, producer, and capitalist. No one of\nthese three has the same interests as the community or as either of\nthe other two. The co\u00f6perative system amalgamates the interests of\nconsumer and capitalist; syndicalism would amalgamate the interests\nof producer and capitalist. Neither amalgamates all three, or makes\nthe interests of those who direct industry quite identical with those\nof the community. Neither, therefore, would wholly prevent industrial\nstrife, or obviate the need of the State as arbitrator. But either\nwould be better than the present system, and probably a mixture of\nboth would cure most of the evils of industrialism as it exists now.\nIt is surprising that, while men and women have struggled to achieve\npolitical democracy, so little has been done to introduce democracy in\nindustry. I believe incalculable benefits might result from industrial\ndemocracy, either on the co\u00f6perative model or with recognition of a\ntrade or industry as a unit for purposes of government, with some\nkind of Home Rule such as syndicalism aims at securing. There is\nno reason why all governmental units should be geographical: this\nsystem was necessary in the past because of the slowness of means of\ncommunication, but it is not necessary now. By some such system many\nmen might come to feel again a pride in their work, and to find again\nthat outlet for the creative impulse which is now denied to all but a\nfortunate few. Such a system requires the abolition of the land-owner\nand the restriction of the capitalist, but does not entail equality of\nearnings. And unlike socialism, it is not a static or final system: it\nis hardly more than a framework for energy and initiative. It is only\nby some such method, I believe, that the free growth of the individual\ncan be reconciled with the huge technical organizations which have been\nrendered necessary by industrialism.\n\n\n\n\nV\n\nEDUCATION\n\n\nNo political theory is adequate unless it is applicable to children as\nwell as to men and women. Theorists are mostly childless, or, if they\nhave children, they are carefully screened from the disturbances which\nwould be caused by youthful turmoil. Some of them have written books on\neducation, but without, as a rule, having any actual children present\nto their minds while they wrote. Those educational theorists who have\nhad a knowledge of children, such as the inventors of Kindergarten and\nthe Montessori system,[14] have not always had enough realization of\nthe ultimate goal of education to be able to deal successfully with\nadvanced instruction. I have not the knowledge either of children or\nof education which would enable me to supply whatever defects there\nmay be in the writings of others. But some questions, concerning\neducation as a political institution, are involved in any hope of\nsocial reconstruction, and are not usually considered by writers on\neducational theory. It is these questions that I wish to discuss.\n\nThe power of education in forming character and opinion is very\ngreat and very generally recognized. The genuine beliefs, though not\nusually the professed precepts, of parents and teachers are almost\nunconsciously acquired by most children; and even if they depart\nfrom these beliefs in later life, something of them remains deeply\nimplanted, ready to emerge in a time of stress or crisis. Education is,\nas a rule, the strongest force on the side of what exists and against\nfundamental change: threatened institutions, while they are still\npowerful, possess themselves of the educational machine, and instil a\nrespect for their own excellence into the malleable minds of the young.\nReformers retort by trying to oust their opponents from their position\nof vantage. The children themselves are not considered by either party;\nthey are merely so much material, to be recruited into one army or the\nother. If the children themselves were considered, education would not\naim at making them belong to this party or that, but at enabling them\nto choose intelligently between the parties; it would aim at making\nthem able to think, not at making them think what their teachers think.\nEducation as a political weapon could not exist if we respected the\nrights of children. If we respected the rights of children, we should\neducate them so as to give them the knowledge and the mental habits\nrequired for forming independent opinions; but education as a political\ninstitution endeavors to form habits and to circumscribe knowledge in\nsuch a way as to make one set of opinions inevitable.\n\nThe two principles of _justice_ and _liberty_, which cover a very great\ndeal of the social reconstruction required, are not by themselves\nsufficient where education is concerned. Justice, in the literal sense\nof equal rights, is obviously not wholly possible as regards children.\nAnd as for liberty, it is, to begin with, essentially negative: it\ncondemns all avoidable interference with freedom, without giving a\npositive principle of construction. But education is essentially\nconstructive, and requires some positive conception of what constitutes\na good life. And although liberty is to be respected in education as\nmuch as is compatible with instruction, and although a very great\ndeal more liberty than is customary can be allowed without loss to\ninstruction, yet it is clear that some departure from complete liberty\nis unavoidable if children are to be taught anything, except in the\ncase of unusually intelligent children who are kept isolated from more\nnormal companions. This is one reason for the great responsibility\nwhich rests upon teachers: the children must, necessarily, be more\nor less at the mercy of their elders, and cannot make themselves\nthe guardians of their own interests. Authority in education is to\nsome extent unavoidable, and those who educate have to find a way of\nexercising authority in accordance with the _spirit_ of liberty.\n\nWhere authority is unavoidable, what is needed is _reverence_. A man\nwho is to educate really well, and is to make the young grow and\ndevelop into their full stature, must be filled through and through\nwith the spirit of reverence. It is reverence towards others that\nis lacking in those who advocate machine-made cast-iron systems:\nmilitarism, capitalism, Fabian scientific organization, and all the\nother prisons into which reformers and reactionaries try to force\nthe human spirit. In education, with its codes of rules emanating\nfrom a Government office, its large classes and fixed curriculum and\noverworked teachers, its determination to produce a dead level of glib\nmediocrity, the lack of reverence for the child is all but universal.\nReverence requires imagination and vital warmth; it requires most\nimagination in respect of those who have least actual achievement or\npower. The child is weak and superficially foolish, the teacher is\nstrong, and in an every-day sense wiser than the child. The teacher\nwithout reverence, or the bureaucrat without reverence, easily despises\nthe child for these outward inferiorities. He thinks it is his duty\nto \u201cmold\u201d the child: in imagination he is the potter with the clay.\nAnd so he gives to the child some unnatural shape, which hardens with\nage, producing strains and spiritual dissatisfactions, out of which\ngrow cruelty and envy, and the belief that others must be compelled to\nundergo the same distortions.\n\nTho man who has reverence will not think it his duty to \u201cmold\u201d the\nyoung. He feels in all that lives, but especially in human beings, and\nmost of all in children, something sacred, indefinable, unlimited,\nsomething individual and strangely precious, the growing principle of\nlife, an embodied fragment of the dumb striving of the world. In the\npresence of a child he feels an unaccountable humility\u2014a humility not\neasily defensible on any rational ground, and yet somehow nearer to\nwisdom than the easy self-confidence of many parents and teachers. The\noutward helplessness of the child and the appeal of dependence make him\nconscious of the responsibility of a trust. His imagination shows him\nwhat the child may become, for good or evil, how its impulses may be\ndeveloped or thwarted, how its hopes must be dimmed and the life in it\ngrow less living, how its trust will be bruised and its quick desires\nreplaced by brooding will. All this gives him a longing to help the\nchild in its own battle; he would equip and strengthen it, not for some\noutside end proposed by the State or by any other impersonal authority,\nbut for the ends which the child\u2019s own spirit is obscurely seeking.\nThe man who feels this can wield the authority of an educator without\ninfringing the principle of liberty.\n\nIt is not in a spirit of reverence that education is conducted by\nStates and Churches and the great institutions that are subservient to\nthem. What is considered in education is hardly ever the boy or girl,\nthe young man or young woman, but almost always, in some form, the\nmaintenance of the existing order. When the individual is considered,\nit is almost exclusively with a view to worldly success\u2014making money\nor achieving a good position. To be ordinary, and to acquire the art\nof getting on, is the ideal which is set before the youthful mind,\nexcept by a few rare teachers who have enough energy of belief to break\nthrough the system within which they are expected to work. Almost all\neducation has a political motive: it aims at strengthening some group,\nnational or religious or even social, in the competition with other\ngroups. It is this motive, in the main, which determines the subjects\ntaught, the knowledge offered and the knowledge withheld, and also\ndecides what mental habits the pupils are expected to acquire. Hardly\nanything is done to foster the inward growth of mind and spirit; in\nfact, those who have had most education are very often atrophied in\ntheir mental and spiritual life, devoid of impulse, and possessing only\ncertain mechanical aptitudes which take the place of living thought.\n\nSome of the things which education achieves at present must continue to\nbe achieved by education in any civilized country. All children must\ncontinue to be taught how to read and write, and some must continue\nto acquire the knowledge needed for such professions as medicine or\nlaw or engineering. The higher education required for the sciences\nand the arts is necessary for those to whom it is suited. Except in\nhistory and religion and kindred matters, the actual instruction is\nonly inadequate, not positively harmful. The instruction might be given\nin a more liberal spirit, with more attempt to show its ultimate uses;\nand of course much of it is traditional and dead. But in the main it is\nnecessary, and would have to form a part of any educational system.\n\nIt is in history and religion and other controversial subjects that\nthe actual instruction is positively harmful. These subjects touch the\ninterests by which schools are maintained; and the interests maintain\nthe schools in order that certain views on these subjects may be\ninstilled. History, in every country, is so taught as to magnify that\ncountry: children learn to believe that their own country has always\nbeen in the right and almost always victorious, that it has produced\nalmost all the great men, and that it is in all respects superior to\nall other countries. Since these beliefs are flattering, they are\neasily absorbed, and hardly ever dislodged from instinct by later\nknowledge.\n\nTo take a simple and almost trivial example: the facts about the battle\nof Waterloo are known in great detail and with minute accuracy; but\nthe facts as taught in elementary schools will be widely different in\nEngland, France, and Germany. The ordinary English boy imagines that\nthe Prussians played hardly any part; the ordinary German boy imagines\nthat Wellington was practically defeated when the day was retrieved\nby Bl\u00fccher\u2019s gallantry. If the facts were taught accurately in both\ncountries, national pride would not be fostered to the same extent,\nneither nation would feel so certain of victory in the event of war,\nand the willingness to fight would be diminished. It is this result\nwhich has to be prevented. Every State wishes to promote national\npride, and is conscious that this cannot be done by unbiased history.\nThe defenseless children are taught by distortions and suppressions and\nsuggestions. The false ideas as to the history of the world which are\ntaught in the various countries are of a kind which encourages strife\nand serves to keep alive a bigoted nationalism. If good relations\nbetween States were desired, one of the first steps ought to be to\nsubmit all teaching of history to an international commission, which\nshould produce neutral textbooks free from the patriotic bias which is\nnow demanded everywhere.[15]\n\nExactly the same thing applies to religion. Elementary schools are\npractically always in the hands either of some religious body or of a\nState which has a certain attitude towards religion. A religious body\nexists through the fact that its members all have certain definite\nbeliefs on subjects as to which the truth is not ascertainable. Schools\nconducted by religious bodies have to prevent the young, who are often\ninquiring by nature, from discovering that these definite beliefs are\nopposed by others which are no more unreasonable, and that many of the\nmen best qualified to judge think that there is no good evidence in\nfavor of any definite belief. When the State is militantly secular, as\nin France, State schools become as dogmatic as those that are in the\nhands of the Churches (I understand that the word \u201cGod\u201d must not be\nmentioned in a French elementary school). The result in all these cases\nis the same: free inquiry is checked, and on the most important matter\nin the world the child is met with dogma or with stony silence.\n\nIt is not only in elementary education that these evils exist. In more\nadvanced education they take subtler forms, and there is more attempt\nto conceal them, but they are still present. Eton and Oxford set a\ncertain stamp upon a man\u2019s mind, just as a Jesuit College does. It\ncan hardly be said that Eton and Oxford have a _conscious_ purpose,\nbut they have a purpose which is none the less strong and effective\nfor not being formulated. In almost all who have been through them\nthey produce a worship of \u201cgood form,\u201d which is as destructive to life\nand thought as the medieval Church. \u201cGood form\u201d is quite compatible\nwith a superficial open-mindedness, a readiness to hear all sides,\nand a certain urbanity towards opponents. But it is not compatible\nwith fundamental open-mindedness, or with any inward readiness to give\nweight to the other side. Its essence is the assumption that what\nis most important is a certain kind of behavior, a behavior which\nminimizes friction between equals and delicately impresses inferiors\nwith a conviction of their own crudity. As a political weapon for\npreserving the privileges of the rich in a snobbish democracy it is\nunsurpassable. As a means of producing an agreeable social _milieu_ for\nthose who have money with no strong beliefs or unusual desires it has\nsome merit. In every other respect it is abominable.\n\nThe evils of \u201cgood form\u201d arise from two sources: its perfect assurance\nof its own rightness, and its belief that correct manners are more to\nbe desired than intellect, or artistic creation, or vital energy, or\nany of the other sources of progress in the world. Perfect assurance,\nby itself, is enough to destroy all mental progress in those who have\nit. And when it is combined with contempt for the angularities and\nawkwardnesses that are almost invariably associated with great mental\npower, it becomes a source of destruction to all who come in contact\nwith it. \u201cGood form\u201d is itself dead and incapable of growth; and by its\nattitude to those who are without it it spreads its own death to many\nwho might otherwise have life. The harm which it has done to well-to-do\nEnglishmen, and to men whose abilities have led the well-to-do to\nnotice them, is incalculable.\n\nThe prevention of free inquiry is unavoidable so long as the purpose\nof education is to produce belief rather than thought, to compel the\nyoung to hold positive opinions on doubtful matters rather than to\nlet them see the doubtfulness and be encouraged to independence of\nmind. Education ought to foster the wish for truth, not the conviction\nthat some particular creed is the truth. But it is creeds that hold\nmen together in fighting organizations: Churches, States, political\nparties. It is intensity of belief in a creed that produces efficiency\nin fighting: victory comes to those who feel the strongest certainty\nabout matters on which doubt is the only rational attitude. To produce\nthis intensity of belief and this efficiency in fighting, the child\u2019s\nnature is warped, and its free outlook is cramped, by cultivating\ninhibitions as a check to the growth of new ideas. In those whose\nminds are not very active the result is the omnipotence of prejudice;\nwhile the few whose thought cannot be wholly killed become cynical,\nintellectually hopeless, destructively critical, able to make all\nthat is living seem foolish, unable themselves to supply the creative\nimpulses which they destroy in others.\n\nThe success in fighting which is achieved by suppressing freedom of\nthought is brief and very worthless. In the long run mental vigor is\nas essential to success as it is to a good life. The conception of\neducation as a form of drill, a means of producing unanimity through\nslavishness, is very common, and is defended chiefly on the ground\nthat it leads to victory. Those who enjoy parallels from ancient\nhistory will point to the victory of Sparta over Athens to enforce\ntheir moral. But it is Athens that has had power over men\u2019s thoughts\nand imaginations, not Sparta: any one of us, if we could be born again\ninto some past epoch, would rather be born an Athenian than a Spartan.\nAnd in the modern world so much intellect is required in practical\naffairs that even the external victory is more likely to be won by\nintelligence than by docility. Education in credulity leads by quick\nstages to mental decay; it is only by keeping alive the spirit of free\ninquiry that the indispensable minimum of progress can be achieved.\n\nCertain mental habits are commonly instilled by those who are engaged\nin educating: obedience and discipline, ruthlessness in the struggle\nfor worldly success, contempt towards opposing groups, and an\nunquestioning credulity, a passive acceptance of the teacher\u2019s wisdom.\nAll these habits are against life. Instead of obedience and discipline,\nwe ought to aim at preserving independence and impulse. Instead of\nruthlessness, education should try to develop justice in thought.\nInstead of contempt, it ought to instil reverence, and the attempt at\nunderstanding; towards the opinions of others it ought to produce, not\nnecessarily acquiescence, but only such opposition as is combined with\nimaginative apprehension and a clear realization of the grounds for\nopposition. Instead of credulity, the object should be to stimulate\nconstructive doubt, the love of mental adventure, the sense of worlds\nto conquer by enterprise and boldness in thought. Contentment with the\n_status quo_, and subordination of the individual pupil to political\naims, owing to the indifference to the things of the mind, are the\nimmediate causes of these evils; but beneath these causes there is one\nmore fundamental, the fact that education is treated as a means of\nacquiring power over the pupil, not as a means of nourishing his own\ngrowth. It is in this that lack of reverence shows itself; and it is\nonly by more reverence that a fundamental reform can be effected.\n\nObedience and discipline are supposed to be indispensable if order is\nto be kept in a class, and if any instruction is to be given. To some\nextent this is true; but the extent is much less than it is thought\nto be by those who regard obedience and discipline as in themselves\ndesirable. Obedience, the yielding of one\u2019s will to outside direction,\nis the counterpart of authority. Both may be necessary in certain\ncases. Refractory children, lunatics, and criminals may require\nauthority, and may need to be forced to obey. But in so far as this is\nnecessary it is a misfortune: what is to be desired is the free choice\nof ends with which it is not necessary to interfere. And educational\nreformers have shown that this is far more possible than our fathers\nwould ever have believed.[16]\n\nWhat makes obedience seem necessary in schools is the large classes\nand overworked teachers demanded by a false economy. Those who have no\nexperience of teaching are incapable of imagining the expense of spirit\nentailed by any really living instruction. They think that teachers can\nreasonably be expected to work as many hours as bank clerks. Intense\nfatigue and irritable nerves are the result, and an absolute necessity\nof performing the day\u2019s task mechanically. But the task cannot be\nperformed mechanically except by exacting obedience.\n\nIf we took education seriously, and thought it as important to keep\nalive the minds of children as to secure victory in war, we should\nconduct education quite differently: we should make sure of achieving\nthe end, even if the expense were a hundredfold greater than it is. To\nmany men and women a small amount of teaching is a delight, and can be\ndone with a fresh zest and life which keeps most pupils interested\nwithout any need of discipline. The few who do not become interested\nmight be separated from the rest, and given a different kind of\ninstruction. A teacher ought to have only as much teaching as can be\ndone, on most days, with actual pleasure in the work, and with an\nawareness of the pupil\u2019s mental needs. The result would be a relation\nof friendliness instead of hostility between teacher and pupil, a\nrealization on the part of most pupils that education serves to develop\ntheir own lives and is not merely an outside imposition, interfering\nwith play and demanding many hours of sitting still. All that is\nnecessary to this end is a (greater expenditure of money), to secure\nteachers with more leisure and with a natural love of teaching.\n\nDiscipline, as it exists in schools, is very largely an evil. There is\na kind of discipline which is necessary to almost all achievement, and\nwhich perhaps is not sufficiently valued by those who react against the\npurely external discipline of traditional methods. The desirable kind\nof discipline is the kind that comes from within, which consists in the\npower of pursuing a distant object steadily, foregoing and suffering\nmany things on the way. This involves the subordination of impulse\nto will, the power of a directing action by large creative desires\neven at moments when they are not vividly alive. Without this, no\nserious ambition, good or bad, can be realized, no consistent purpose\ncan dominate. This kind of discipline is very necessary, but can only\nresult from strong desires for ends not immediately attainable, and can\nonly be produced by education if education fosters such desires, which\nit seldom does at present. Such discipline springs from one\u2019s own will,\nnot from outside authority. It is not this kind which is sought in most\nschools, and it is not this kind which seems to me an evil.\n\nAlthough elementary education encourages the undesirable discipline\nthat consists in passive obedience, and although hardly any existing\neducation encourages the moral discipline of consistent self-direction,\nthere is a certain kind of purely mental discipline which is produced\nby the traditional higher education. The kind I mean is that which\nenables a man to concentrate his thoughts at will upon any matter\nthat he has occasion to consider, regardless of preoccupations or\nboredom or intellectual difficulty. This quality, though it has no\nimportant intrinsic excellence, greatly enhances the efficiency of\nthe mind as an instrument. It is this that enables a lawyer to master\nthe scientific details of a patent case which he forgets as soon as\njudgment has been given, or a civil servant to deal quickly with\nmany different administrative questions in succession. It is this\nthat enables men to forget private cares during business hours. In a\ncomplicated world it is a very necessary faculty for those whose work\nrequires mental concentration.\n\nSuccess in producing mental discipline is the chief merit of\ntraditional higher education. I doubt whether it can be achieved except\nby compelling or persuading active attention to a prescribed task. It\nis for this reason chiefly that I do not believe methods such as Madame\nMontessori\u2019s applicable when the age of childhood has been passed.\nThe essence of her method consists in giving a choice of occupations,\nany one of which is interesting to most children, and all of which\nare instructive. The child\u2019s attention is wholly spontaneous, as in\nplay; it enjoys acquiring knowledge in this way, and does not acquire\nany knowledge which it does not desire. I am convinced that this is\nthe best method of education with young children: the actual results\nmake it almost impossible to think otherwise. But it is difficult\nto see how this method can lead to control of attention by the will.\nMany things which must be thought about are uninteresting, and even\nthose that are interesting at first often become very wearisome before\nthey have been considered as long as is necessary. The power of giving\nprolonged attention is very important, and it is hardly to be widely\nacquired except as a habit induced originally by outside pressure. Some\nfew boys, it is true, have sufficiently strong intellectual desires to\nbe willing to undergo all that is necessary by their own initiative\nand free will; but for all others an external inducement is required\nin order to make them learn any subject thoroughly. There is among\neducational reformers a certain fear of demanding great efforts, and\nin the world at large a growing unwillingness to be bored. Both these\ntendencies have their good sides, but both also have their dangers. The\nmental discipline which is jeopardized can be preserved by mere advice\nwithout external compulsion whenever a boy\u2019s intellectual interest and\nambition can be sufficiently stimulated. A good teacher ought to be\nable to do this for any boy who is capable of much mental achievement;\nand for many of the others the present purely bookish education is\nprobably not the best. In this way, so long as the importance of mental\ndiscipline is realized, it can probably be attained, whenever it is\nattainable, by appealing to the pupil\u2019s consciousness of his own needs.\nSo long as teachers are not expected to succeed by this method, it is\neasy for them to slip into a slothful dullness, and blame their pupils\nwhen the fault is really their own.\n\nRuthlessness in the economic struggle will almost unavoidably be\ntaught in schools so long as the economic structure of society remains\nunchanged. This must be particularly the case in middle-class schools,\nwhich depend for their numbers upon the good opinion of parents, and\nsecure the good opinion of parents by advertising the successes of\npupils. This is one of many ways in which the competitive organization\nof the State is harmful. Spontaneous and disinterested desire for\nknowledge is not at all uncommon in the young, and might be easily\naroused in many in whom it remains latent. But it is remorselessly\nchecked by teachers who think only of examinations, diplomas, and\ndegrees. For the abler boys there is no time for thought, no time\nfor the indulgence of intellectual taste, from the moment of first\ngoing to school until the moment of leaving the university. From first\nto last there is nothing but one long drudgery of examination tips\nand textbook facts. The most intelligent, at the end, are disgusted\nwith learning, longing only to forget it and to escape into a life\nof action. Yet there, as before, the economic machine holds them\nprisoners, and all their spontaneous desires are bruised and thwarted.\n\nThe examination system, and the fact that instruction is treated mainly\nas training for a livelihood, leads the young to regard knowledge, from\na purely utilitarian point of view, as the road to money, not as the\ngateway to wisdom. This would not matter so much if it affected only\nthose who have no genuine intellectual interests. But unfortunately it\naffects most those whose intellectual interests are strongest, since\nit is upon them that the pressure of examinations falls with most\nseverity. To them most, but to all in some degree, education appears as\na means of acquiring superiority over others; it is infected through\nand through with ruthlessness and glorification of social inequality.\nAny free, disinterested consideration shows that, whatever inequalities\nmight remain in a Utopia, the actual inequalities are almost all\ncontrary to justice. But our educational system tends to conceal this\nfrom all except the failures, since those who succeed are on the way to\nprofit by the inequalities, with every encouragement from the men who\nhave directed their education.\n\nPassive acceptance of the teacher\u2019s wisdom is easy to most boys and\ngirls. It involves no effort of independent thought, and seems rational\nbecause the teacher knows more than his pupils; it is moreover the\nway to win the favor of the teacher unless he is a very exceptional\nman. Yet the habit of passive acceptance is a disastrous one in later\nlife. It causes men to seek a leader, and to accept as a leader whoever\nis established in that position. It makes the power of Churches,\nGovernments, party caucuses, and all the other organizations by which\nplain men are misled into supporting old systems which are harmful\nto the nation and to themselves. It is possible that there would not\nbe much independence of thought even if education did everything\nto promote it; but there would certainly be more than there is at\npresent. If the object were to make pupils think, rather than to make\nthem accept certain conclusions, education would be conducted quite\ndifferently: there would be less rapidity of instruction and more\ndiscussion, more occasions when pupils were encouraged to express\nthemselves, more attempt to make education concern itself with matters\nin which the pupils felt some interest.\n\nAbove all, there would be an endeavor to rouse and stimulate the\nlove of mental adventure. The world in which we live is various and\nastonishing: some of the things that seem plainest grow more and more\ndifficult the more they are considered; other things, which might have\nbeen thought quite impossible to discover, have nevertheless been laid\nbare by genius and industry. The powers of thought, the vast regions\nwhich it can master, the much more vast regions which it can only dimly\nsuggest to imagination, give to those whose minds have traveled beyond\nthe daily round an amazing richness of material, an escape from the\ntriviality and wearisomeness of familiar routine, by which the whole of\nlife is filled with interest, and the prison walls of the commonplace\nare broken down. The same love of adventure which takes men to the\nSouth Pole, the same passion for a conclusive trial of strength which\nleads some men to welcome war, can find in creative thought an outlet\nwhich is neither wasteful nor cruel, but increases the dignity of man\nby incarnating in life some of that shining splendor which the human\nspirit is bringing down out of the unknown. To give this joy, in a\ngreater or less measure, to all who are capable of it, is the supreme\nend for which the education of the mind is to be valued.\n\nIt will be said that the joy of mental adventure must be rare, that\nthere are few who can appreciate it, and that ordinary education can\ntake no account of so aristocratic a good. I do not believe this. The\njoy of mental adventure is far commoner in the young than in grown\nmen and women. Among children it is very common, and grows naturally\nout of the period of make-believe and fancy. It is rare in later life\nbecause everything is done to kill it during education. Men fear\nthought as they fear nothing else on earth\u2014more than ruin, more even\nthan death. Thought is subversive and revolutionary, destructive and\nterrible; thought is merciless to privilege, established institutions,\nand comfortable habits; thought is anarchic and lawless, indifferent\nto authority, careless of the well-tried wisdom of the ages. Thought\nlooks into the pit of hell and is not afraid. It sees man, a feeble\nspeck, surrounded by unfathomable depths of silence; yet it bears\nitself proudly, as unmoved as if it were lord of the universe. Thought\nis great and swift and free, the light of the world, and the chief\nglory of man.\n\nBut if thought is to become the possession of many, not the privilege\nof the few, we must have done with fear. It is fear that holds men\nback\u2014fear lest their cherished beliefs should prove delusions, fear\nlest the institutions by which they live should prove harmful, fear\nlest they themselves should prove less worthy of respect than they\nhave supposed themselves to be. \u201cShould the working man think freely\nabout property? Then what will become of us, the rich? Should young\nmen and young women think freely about sex? Then what will become\nof morality? Should soldiers think freely about war? Then what will\nbecome of military discipline? Away with thought! Back into the shades\nof prejudice, lest property, morals, and war should be endangered!\nBetter men should be stupid, slothful, and oppressive than that their\nthoughts should be free. For if their thoughts were free they might\nnot think as we do. And at all costs this disaster must be averted.\u201d\nSo the opponents of thought argue in the unconscious depths of their\nsouls. And so they act in their churches, their schools, and their\nuniversities.\n\nNo institution inspired by fear can further life. Hope, not fear, is\nthe creative principle in human affairs. All that has made man great\nhas sprung from the attempt to secure what is good, not from the\nstruggle to avert what was thought evil. It is because modern education\nis so seldom inspired by a great hope that it so seldom achieves a\ngreat result. The wish to preserve the past rather than the hope of\ncreating the future dominates the minds of those who control the\nteaching of the young. Education should not aim at a passive awareness\nof dead facts, but at an activity directed towards the world that\nour efforts are to create. It should be inspired, not by a regretful\nhankering after the extinct beauties of Greece and the Renaissance,\nbut by a shining vision of the society that is to be, of the triumphs\nthat thought will achieve in the time to come, and of the ever-widening\nhorizon of man\u2019s survey over the universe. Those who are taught in this\nspirit will be filled with life and hope and joy, able to bear their\npart in bringing to mankind a future less somber than the past, with\nfaith in the glory that human effort can create.\n\n\n\n\nVI\n\nMARRIAGE AND THE POPULATION QUESTION\n\n\nThe influence of the Christian religion on daily life has decayed very\nrapidly throughout Europe during the last hundred years. Not only has\nthe proportion of nominal believers declined, but even among those who\nbelieve the intensity and dogmatism of belief is enormously diminished.\nBut there is one social institution which is still profoundly affected\nby the Christian tradition\u2014I mean the institution of marriage. The\nlaw and public opinion as regards marriage are dominated even now to\na very great extent by the teachings of the Church, which continue to\ninfluence in this way the lives of men, women, and children in their\nmost intimate concerns.\n\nIt is marriage as a political institution that I wish to consider,\nnot marriage as a matter for the private morality of each individual.\nMarriage is regulated by law, and is regarded as a matter in which\nthe community has a right to interfere. It is only the action of the\ncommunity in regard to marriage that I am concerned to discuss: whether\nthe present action furthers the life of the community, and if not, in\nwhat ways it ought to be changed.\n\nThere are two questions to be asked in regard to any marriage system:\nfirst, how it affects the development and character of the men and\nwomen concerned; secondly, what is its influence on the propagation and\neducation of children. These two questions are entirely distinct, and\na system may well be desirable from one of these two points of view\nwhen it is very undesirable from the other. I propose first to describe\nthe present English law and public opinion and practice in regard to\nthe relations of the sexes, then to consider their effects as regards\nchildren, and finally to consider how these effects, which are bad,\ncould be obviated by a system which would also have a better influence\non the character and development of men and women.\n\nThe law in England is based upon the expectation that the great\nmajority of marriages will be lifelong. A marriage can only be\ndissolved if either the wife or the husband, but not both, can be\nproved to have committed adultery. In case the husband is the \u201cguilty\nparty,\u201d he must also be guilty of cruelty or desertion. Even when\nthese conditions are fulfilled, in practice only the well-to-do can be\ndivorced, because the expense is very great.[17] A marriage cannot be\ndissolved for insanity or crime, or for cruelty, however abominable,\nor for desertion, or for adultery by both parties; and it cannot be\ndissolved for any cause whatever if both husband and wife have agreed\nthat they wish it dissolved. In all these cases the law regards the man\nand woman as bound together for life. A special official, the King\u2019s\nProctor, is employed to prevent divorce when there is collusion and\nwhen both parties have committed adultery.[18]\n\nThis interesting system embodies the opinions held by the Church of\nEngland some fifty years ago, and by most Nonconformists then and now.\nIt rests upon the assumption that adultery is sin, and that when this\nsin has been committed by one party to the marriage, the other is\nentitled to revenge if he is rich. But when both have committed the\nsame sin, or when the one who has not committed it feels no righteous\nanger, the right to revenge does not exist. As soon as this point of\nview is understood, the law, which at first seems somewhat strange, is\nseen to be perfectly consistent. It rests, broadly speaking, upon four\npropositions: (1) that sexual intercourse outside marriage is sin; (2)\nthat resentment of adultery by the \u201cinnocent\u201d party is a righteous\nhorror of wrong-doing; (3) that his resentment, but nothing else, may\nbe rightly regarded as making a common life impossible; (4) that the\npoor have no right to fine feelings. The Church of England, under the\ninfluence of the High Church, has ceased to believe the third of these\npropositions, but it still believes the first and second, and does\nnothing actively to show that it disbelieves the fourth.\n\nThe penalty for infringing the marriage law is partly financial, but\ndepends mainly upon public opinion. A rather small section of the\npublic genuinely believes that sexual relations outside marriage are\nwicked; those who believe this are naturally kept in ignorance of the\nconduct of friends who feel otherwise, and are able to go through life\nnot knowing how others live or what others think. This small section of\nthe public regards as depraved not only actions, but opinions, which\nare contrary to its principles. It is able to control the professions\nof politicians through its influence on elections, and the votes of\nthe House of Lords through the presence of the Bishops. By these\nmeans it governs legislation, and makes any change in the marriage\nlaw almost impossible. It is able, also, to secure in most cases that\na man who openly infringes the marriage law shall be dismissed from\nhis employment or ruined by the defection of his customers or clients.\nA doctor or lawyer, or a tradesman in a country town, cannot make a\nliving, nor can a politician be in Parliament, if he is publicly known\nto be \u201cimmoral.\u201d Whatever a man\u2019s own conduct may be, he is not likely\nto defend publicly those who have been branded, lest some of the odium\nshould fall on him. Yet so long as a man has not been branded, few men\nwill object to him, whatever they may know privately of his behavior in\nthese respects.\n\nOwing to the nature of the penalty, it falls very unequally upon\ndifferent professions. An actor or journalist usually escapes all\npunishment. An urban workingman can almost always do as he likes. A man\nof private means, unless he wishes to take part in public life, need\nnot suffer at all if he has chosen his friends suitably. Women, who\nformerly suffered more than men, now suffer less, since there are large\ncircles in which no social penalty is inflicted, and a very rapidly\nincreasing number of women who do not believe the conventional code.\nBut for the majority of men outside the working classes the penalty is\nstill sufficiently severe to be prohibitive.\n\nThe result of this state of things is a widespread but very flimsy\nhypocrisy, which allows many infractions of the code, and forbids\nonly those which must become public. A man may not live openly with a\nwoman who is not his wife, an unmarried woman may not have a child,\nand neither man nor woman may get into the divorce court. Subject to\nthese restrictions, there is in practice very great freedom. It is this\npractical freedom which makes the state of the law seem tolerable to\nthose who do not accept the principles upon which it is based. What\nhas to be sacrificed to propitiate the holders of strict views is not\npleasure, but only children and a common life and truth and honesty.\nIt cannot be supposed that this is the result desired by those who\nmaintain the code, but equally it cannot be denied that this is the\nresult which they do in fact achieve. Extra-matrimonial relations which\ndo not lead to children and are accompanied by a certain amount of\ndeceit remain unpunished, but severe penalties fall on those which are\nhonest or lead to children.\n\nWithin marriage, the expense of children leads to continually greater\nlimitation of families. The limitation is greatest among those who\nhave most sense of parental responsibility and most wish to educate\ntheir children well, since it is to them that the expense of children\nis most severe. But although the economic motive for limiting families\nhas hitherto probably been the strongest, it is being continually\nreinforced by another. Women are acquiring freedom\u2014not merely outward\nand formal freedom, but inward freedom, enabling them to think and\nfeel genuinely, not according to received maxims. To the men who have\nprated confidently of women\u2019s natural instincts, the result would be\nsurprising if they were aware of it. Very large numbers of women, when\nthey are sufficiently free to think for themselves, do not desire to\nhave children, or at most desire one child in order not to miss the\nexperience which a child brings. There are women who are intelligent\nand active-minded who resent the slavery to the body which is involved\nin having children. There are ambitious women, who desire a career\nwhich leaves no time for children. There are women who love pleasure\nand gaiety, and women who love the admiration of men; such women will\nat least postpone child-bearing until their youth is past. All these\nclasses of women are rapidly becoming more numerous, and it may be\nsafely assumed that their numbers will continue to increase for many\nyears to come.\n\nIt is too soon to judge with any confidence as to the effects of\nwomen\u2019s freedom upon private life and upon the life of the nation.\nBut I think it is not too soon to see that it will be profoundly\ndifferent from the effect expected by the pioneers of the women\u2019s\nmovement. Men have invented, and women in the past have often accepted,\na theory that women are the guardians of the race, that their life\ncenters in motherhood, that all their instincts and desires are\ndirected, consciously or unconsciously, to this end. Tolstoy\u2019s Natacha\nillustrates this theory: she is charming, gay, liable to passion, until\nshe is married; then she becomes merely a virtuous mother, without\nany mental life. This result has Tolstoy\u2019s entire approval. It must\nbe admitted that it is very desirable from the point of view of the\nnation, whatever we may think of it in relation to private life. It\nmust also be admitted that it is probably common among women who are\nphysically vigorous and not highly civilized. But in countries like\nFrance and England it is becoming increasingly rare. More and more\nwomen find motherhood unsatisfying, not what their needs demand. And\nmore and more there comes to be a conflict between their personal\ndevelopment and the future of the community. It is difficult to know\nwhat ought to be done to mitigate this conflict, but I think it is\nworth while to see what are likely to be its effects if it is not\nmitigated.\n\nOwing to the combination of economic prudence with the increasing\nfreedom of women, there is at present a selective birth-rate of a\nvery singular kind.[19] In France the population is practically\nstationary, and in England it is rapidly becoming so; this means\nthat some sections are dwindling while others are increasing. Unless\nsome change occurs, the sections that are dwindling will practically\nbecome extinct, and the population will be almost wholly replenished\nfrom the sections that are now increasing.[20] The sections that are\ndwindling include the whole middle-class and the skilled artisans.\nThe sections that are increasing are the very poor, the shiftless and\ndrunken, the feeble-minded\u2014feeble-minded women, especially, are apt\nto be very prolific. There is an increase in those sections of the\npopulation which still actively believe the Catholic religion, such\nas the Irish and the Bretons, because the Catholic religion forbids\nlimitation of families. Within the classes that are dwindling, it\nis the best elements that are dwindling most rapidly. Working-class\nboys of exceptional ability rise, by means of scholarships, into the\nprofessional class; they naturally desire to marry into the class to\nwhich they belong by education, not into the class from which they\nspring; but as they have no money beyond what they earn, they cannot\nmarry young, or afford a large family. The result is that in each\ngeneration the best elements are extracted from the working classes\nand artificially sterilized, at least in comparison with those who are\nleft. In the professional classes the young women who have initiative,\nenergy, or intelligence are as a rule not inclined to marry young, or\nto have more than one or two children when they do marry. Marriage\nhas been in the past the only obvious means of livelihood for women;\npressure from parents and fear of becoming an old maid combined\nto force many women to marry in spite of a complete absence of\ninclination for the duties of a wife. But now a young woman of ordinary\nintelligence can easily earn her own living, and can acquire freedom\nand experience without the permanent ties of a husband and a family of\nchildren. The result is that if she marries she marries late.\n\nFor these reasons, if an average sample of children were taken out of\nthe population of England, and their parents were examined, it would\nbe found that prudence, energy, intellect, and enlightenment were less\ncommon among the parents than in the population in general; while\nshiftlessness, feeble-mindedness, stupidity, and superstition were more\ncommon than in the population in general. It would be found that those\nwho are prudent or energetic or intelligent or enlightened actually\nfail to reproduce their own numbers; that is to say, they do not on the\naverage have as many as two children each who survive infancy. On the\nother hand, those who have the opposite qualities have, on the average,\nmore than two children each, and more than reproduce their own numbers.\n\nIt is impossible to estimate the effect which this will have upon\nthe character of the population without a much greater knowledge of\nheredity than exists at present. But so long as children continue to\nlive with their parents, parental example and early education must\nhave a great influence in developing their character, even if we leave\nheredity entirely out of account. Whatever may be thought of genius,\nthere can be no doubt that intelligence, whether through heredity or\nthrough education, tends to run in families, and that the decay of the\nfamilies in which it is common must lower the mental standard of the\npopulation. It seems unquestionable that if our economic system and\nour moral standards remain unchanged, there will be, in the next two\nor three generations, a rapid change for the worse in the character of\nthe population in all civilized countries, and an actual diminution of\nnumbers in the most civilized.\n\nThe diminution of numbers, in all likelihood, will rectify itself in\ntime through the elimination of those characteristics which at present\nlead to a small birth-rate. Men and women who can still believe the\nCatholic faith will have a biological advantage; gradually a race\nwill grow up which will be impervious to all the assaults of reason,\nand will believe imperturbably that limitation of families leads to\nhell-fire. Women who have mental interests, who care about art or\nliterature or politics, who desire a career or who value their liberty,\nwill gradually grow rarer, and be more and more replaced by a placid\nmaternal type which has no interests outside the home and no dislike\nof the burden of motherhood. This result, which ages of masculine\ndomination have vainly striven to achieve, is likely to be the final\noutcome of women\u2019s emancipation and of their attempt to enter upon a\nwider sphere than that to which the jealousy of men confined them in\nthe past.\n\nPerhaps, if the facts could be ascertained, it would be found that\nsomething of the same kind occurred in the Roman Empire. The decay of\nenergy and intelligence during the second, third, and fourth centuries\nof our era has always remained more or less mysterious. But there is\nreason to think that then, as now, the best elements of the population\nin each generation failed to reproduce themselves, and that the least\nvigorous were, as a rule, those to whom the continuance of the race was\ndue. One might be tempted to suppose that civilization, when it has\nreached a certain height, becomes unstable, and tends to decay through\nsome inherent weakness, some failure to adapt the life of instinct to\nthe intense mental life of a period of high culture. But such vague\ntheories have always something glib and superstitious which makes them\nworthless as scientific explanations or as guides to action. It is not\nby a literary formula, but by detailed and complex thought, that a true\nsolution is to be found.\n\nLet us first be clear as to what we desire. There is no importance in\nan increasing population; on the contrary, if the population of Europe\nwere stationary, it would be much easier to promote economic reform\nand to avoid war. What is regrettable _at present_ is not the decline\nof the birth-rate in itself, but the fact that the decline is greatest\nin the best elements of the population. There is reason, however, to\nfear in the future three bad results: first, an absolute decline in the\nnumbers of English, French, and Germans; secondly, as a consequence\nof this decline, their subjugation by less civilized races and the\nextinction of their tradition; thirdly, a revival of their numbers on\na much lower plane of civilization, after generations of selection of\nthose who have neither intelligence nor foresight. If this result is\nto be avoided, the present unfortunate selectiveness of the birth-rate\nmust be somehow stopped.\n\nThe problem is one which applies to the whole of Western civilization.\nThere is no difficulty in discovering a theoretical solution, but\nthere is great difficulty in persuading men to adopt a solution in\npractice, because the effects to be feared are not immediate and\nthe subject is one upon which people are not in the habit of using\ntheir reason. If a rational solution is ever adopted, the cause will\nprobably be international rivalry. It is obvious that if one State\u2014say\nGermany\u2014adopted a rational means of dealing with the matter, it would\nacquire an enormous advantage over other States unless they did\nlikewise. After the war, it is possible that population questions will\nattract more attention than they did before, and it is likely that\nthey will be studied from the point of view of international rivalry.\nThis motive, unlike reason and humanity, is perhaps strong enough to\novercome men\u2019s objections to a scientific treatment of the birth-rate.\n\nIn the past, at most periods and in most societies, the instincts of\nmen and women led of themselves to a more than sufficient birth-rate;\nMalthus\u2019s statement of the population question had been true enough\nup to the time when he wrote. It is still true of barbarous and\nsemi-civilized races, and of the worst elements among civilized races.\nBut it has become false as regards the more civilized half of the\npopulation in Western Europe and America. Among them, instinct no\nlonger suffices to keep numbers even stationary.\n\nWe may sum up the reasons for this in order of importance, as follows:\u2014\n\n1. The expense of children is very great if parents are conscientious.\n\n2. An increasing number of women desire to have no children, or only\none or two, in order not to be hampered in their own careers.\n\n3. Owing to the excess of women, a large number of women remain\nunmarried. These women, though not debarred in practice from relations\nwith men, are debarred by the code from having children. In this class\nare to be found an enormous and increasing number of women who earn\ntheir own living as typists, in shops, or otherwise. The war has opened\nmany employments to women from which they were formerly excluded, and\nthis change is probably only in part temporary.\n\nIf the sterilizing of the best parts of the population is to be\narrested, the first and most pressing necessity is the removal of\nthe economic motives for limiting families. The expense of children\nought to be borne wholly by the community. Their food and clothing\nand education ought to be provided, not only to the very poor as a\nmatter of charity, but to all classes as a matter of public interest.\nIn addition to this, a woman who is capable of earning money, and who\nabandons wage-earning for motherhood, ought to receive from the State\nas nearly as possible what she would have received if she had not had\nchildren. The only condition attached to State maintenance of the\nmother and the children should be that both parents are physically and\nmentally sound in all ways likely to affect the children. Those who\nare not sound should not be debarred from having children, but should\ncontinue, as at present, to bear the expense of children themselves.\n\nIt ought to be recognized that the law is only concerned with marriage\nthrough the question of children, and should be indifferent to what\nis called \u201cmorality,\u201d which is based upon custom and texts of the\nBible, not upon any real consideration of the needs of the community.\nThe excess women, who at present are in every way discouraged from\nhaving children, ought no longer to be discouraged. If the State is\nto undertake the expense of children, it has the right, on eugenic\ngrounds, to know who the father is, and to demand a certain stability\nin a union. But there is no reason to demand or expect a lifelong\nstability, or to exact any ground for divorce beyond mutual consent.\nThis would make it possible for the women who must at present remain\nunmarried to have children if they wished it. In this way an enormous\nand unnecessary waste would be prevented, and a great deal of needless\nunhappiness would be avoided.\n\nThere is no necessity to begin such a system all at once. It might be\nbegun tentatively with certain exceptionally desirable sections of the\ncommunity. It might then be extended gradually, with the experience of\nits working which had been derived from the first experiment. If the\nbirth-rate were very much increased, the eugenic conditions exacted\nmight be made more strict.\n\nThere are of course various practical difficulties in the way of such a\nscheme: the opposition of the Church and the upholders of traditional\nmorality, the fear of weakening parental responsibility, and the\nexpense. All these, however, might be overcome. But there remains one\ndifficulty which it seems impossible to overcome completely in England,\nand that is, that the whole conception is anti-democratic, since it\nregards some men as better than others, and would demand that the State\nshould bestow a better education upon the children of some men than\nupon the children of others. This is contrary to all the principles\nof progressive politics in England. For this reason it can hardly be\nexpected that any such method of dealing with the population question\nwill ever be adopted in its entirety in this country. Something of the\nsort may well be done in Germany, and if so, it will assure German\nhegemony as no merely military victory could do. But among ourselves\nwe can only hope to see it adopted in some partial, piecemeal fashion,\nand probably only after a change in the economic structure of society\nwhich will remove most of the artificial inequalities that progressive\nparties are rightly trying to diminish.\n\nSo far we have been considering the question of the reproduction of the\nrace, rather than the effect of sex relations in fostering or hindering\nthe development of men and women. From the point of view of the race,\nwhat seems needed is a complete removal of the economic burdens due to\nchildren from all parents who are not physically or mentally unfit, and\nas much freedom in the law as is compatible with public knowledge of\npaternity. Exactly the same changes seem called for when the question\nis considered from the point of view of the men and women concerned.\n\nIn regard to marriage, as with all the other traditional bonds between\nhuman beings, a very extraordinary change is taking place, wholly\ninevitable, wholly necessary as a stage in the development of a new\nlife, but by no means wholly satisfactory until it is completed. All\nthe traditional bonds were based on _authority_\u2014of the king, the\nfeudal baron, the priest, the father, the husband. All these bonds,\njust because they were based on authority, are dissolving or already\ndissolved, and the creation of other bonds to take their place is as\nyet very incomplete. For this reason human relations have at present\nan unusual triviality, and do less than they did formerly to break down\nthe hard walls of the Ego.\n\nThe ideal of marriage in the past depended upon the authority of the\nhusband, which was admitted as a right by the wife. The husband was\nfree, the wife was a willing slave. In all matters which concerned\nhusband and wife jointly, it was taken for granted that the husband\u2019s\nfiat should be final. The wife was expected to be faithful, while the\nhusband, except in very religious societies, was only expected to throw\na decent veil over his infidelities. Families could not be limited\nexcept by continence, and a wife had no recognized right to demand\ncontinence, however she might suffer from frequent children.\n\nSo long as the husband\u2019s right to authority was unquestioningly\nbelieved by both men and women, this system was fairly satisfactory,\nand afforded to both a certain instinctive fulfilment which is rarely\nachieved among educated people now. Only one will, the husband\u2019s,\nhad to be taken into account, and there was no need of the difficult\nadjustments required when common decisions have to be reached by two\nequal wills. The wife\u2019s desires were not treated seriously enough to\nenable them to thwart the husband\u2019s needs, and the wife herself, unless\nshe was exceptionally selfish, did not seek self-development, or see in\nmarriage anything but an opportunity for duties. Since she did not seek\nor expect much happiness, she suffered less, when happiness was not\nattained, than a woman does now: her suffering contained no element of\nindignation or surprise, and did not readily turn into bitterness and\nsense of injury.\n\nThe saintly, self-sacrificing woman whom our ancestors praised had her\nplace in a certain organic conception of society, the conception of the\nordered hierarchy of authorities which dominated the Middle Ages. She\nbelongs to the same order of ideas as the faithful servant, the loyal\nsubject, and the orthodox son of the Church. This whole order of ideas\nhas vanished from the civilized world, and it is to be hoped that it\nhas vanished for ever, in spite of the fact that the society which it\nproduced was vital and in some ways full of nobility. The old order\nhas been destroyed by the new ideals of justice and liberty, beginning\nwith religion, passing on to politics, and reaching at last the private\nrelations of marriage and the family. When once the question has been\nasked, \u201cWhy should a woman submit to a man?\u201d when once the answers\nderived from tradition and the Bible have ceased to satisfy, there\nis no longer any possibility of maintaining the old subordination.\nTo every man who has the power of thinking impersonally and freely,\nit is obvious, as soon as the question is asked, that the rights of\nwomen are precisely the same as the rights of men. Whatever dangers\nand difficulties, whatever temporary chaos, may be incurred in the\ntransition to equality, the claims of reason are so insistent and so\nclear that no opposition to them can hope to be long successful.\n\nMutual liberty, which is now demanded, is making the old form of\nmarriage impossible. But a new form, which shall be an equally good\nvehicle for instinct, and an equal help to spiritual growth, has not\nyet been developed. For the present, women who are conscious of liberty\nas something to be preserved are also conscious of the difficulty of\npreserving it. The wish for mastery is an ingredient in most men\u2019s\nsexual passions, especially in those which are strong and serious. It\nsurvives in many men whose theories are entirely opposed to despotism.\nThe result is a fight for liberty on the one side and for life on the\nother. Women feel that they must protect their individuality; men feel,\noften very dumbly, that the repression of instinct which is demanded\nof them is incompatible with vigor and initiative. The clash of these\nopposing moods makes all real mingling of personalities impossible;\nthe man and woman remain hard, separate units, continually asking\nthemselves whether anything of value to themselves is resulting from\nthe union. The effect is that relations tend to become trivial and\ntemporary, a pleasure rather than the satisfaction of a profound need,\nan excitement, not an attainment. The fundamental loneliness into which\nwe are born remains untouched, and the hunger for inner companionship\nremains unappeased.\n\nNo cheap and easy solution of this trouble is possible. It is a trouble\nwhich affects most the most civilized men and women, and is an outcome\nof the increasing sense of individuality which springs inevitably from\nmental progress. I doubt if there is any radical cure except in some\nform of religion, so firmly and sincerely believed as to dominate\neven the life of instinct. The individual is not the end and aim of\nhis own being: outside the individual, there is the community, the\nfuture of mankind, the immensity of the universe in which all our\nhopes and fears are a mere pin-point. A man and woman with reverence\nfor the spirit of life in each other, with an equal sense of their own\nunimportance beside the whole life of man, may become comrades without\ninterference with liberty, and may achieve the union of instinct\nwithout doing violence to the life of mind and spirit. As religion\ndominated the old form of marriage, so religion must dominate the new.\nBut it must be a new religion, based upon liberty, justice, and love,\nnot upon authority and law and hell-fire.\n\nA bad effect upon the relations of men and women has been produced by\nthe romantic movement, through directing attention to what ought to be\nan incidental good, not the purpose for which relations exist. Love is\nwhat gives intrinsic value to a marriage, and, like art and thought, it\nis one of the supreme things which make human life worth preserving.\nBut though there is no good marriage without love, the best marriages\nhave a purpose which goes beyond love. The love of two people for\neach other is too circumscribed, too separate from the community, to\nbe by itself the main purpose of a good life. It is not in itself a\nsufficient source of activities, it is not sufficiently prospective,\nto make an existence in which ultimate satisfaction can be found. It\nbrings its great moments, and then its times which are less great,\nwhich are unsatisfying because they are less great. It becomes, sooner\nor later, retrospective, a tomb of dead joys, not a well-spring of new\nlife. This evil is inseparable from any purpose which is to be achieved\nin a single supreme emotion. The only adequate purposes are those which\nstretch out into the future, which can never be fully achieved, but are\nalways growing, and infinite with the infinity of human endeavor. And\nit is only when love is linked to some infinite purpose of this kind\nthat it can have the seriousness and depth of which it is capable.\n\nFor the great majority of men and women seriousness in sex relations\nis most likely to be achieved through children. Children are to\nmost people rather a need than a desire: instinct is as a rule only\nconsciously directed towards what used to lead to children. The desire\nfor children is apt to develop in middle life, when the adventure of\none\u2019s own existence is past, when the friendships of youth seem less\nimportant than they once did, when the prospect of a lonely old age\nbegins to terrify, and the feeling of having no share in the future\nbecomes oppressive. Then those who, while they were young, have had\nno sense that children would be a fulfilment of their needs, begin to\nregret their former contempt for the normal, and to envy acquaintances\nwhom before they had thought humdrum. But owing to economic causes it\nis often impossible for the young, and especially for the best of the\nyoung, to have children without sacrificing things of vital importance\nto their own lives. And so youth passes, and the need is felt too late.\n\nNeeds without corresponding desires have grown increasingly common as\nlife has grown more different from that primitive existence from which\nour instincts are derived, and to which, rather than to that of the\npresent day, they are still very largely adapted. An unsatisfied need\nproduces, in the end, as much pain and as much distortion of character\nas if it had been associated with a conscious desire. For this reason,\nas well as for the sake of the race, it is important to remove the\npresent economic inducements to childlessness. There is no necessity\nwhatever to urge parenthood upon those who feel disinclined to it, but\nthere is necessity not to place obstacles in the way of those who have\nno such disinclination.\n\nIn speaking of the importance of preserving seriousness in the\nrelations of men and women, I do not mean to suggest that relations\nwhich are not serious are always harmful. Traditional morality has\nerred by laying stress on what ought not to happen, rather than on\nwhat ought to happen. What is important is that men and women should\nfind, sooner or later, the best relation of which their natures are\ncapable. It is not always possible to know in advance what will be the\nbest, or to be sure of not missing the best if everything that can be\ndoubted is rejected. Among primitive races, a man wants a female, a\nwoman wants a male, and there is no such differentiation as makes one\na much more suitable companion than another. But with the increasing\ncomplexity of disposition that civilized life brings, it becomes more\nand more difficult to find the man or woman who will bring happiness,\nand more and more necessary to make it not too difficult to acknowledge\na mistake.\n\nThe present marriage law is an inheritance from a simpler age, and\nis supported, in the main, by unreasoning fears and by contempt for\nall that is delicate and difficult in the life of the mind. Owing\nto the law, large numbers of men and women are condemned, so far\nas their ostensible relations are concerned, to the society of an\nutterly uncongenial companion, with all the embittering consciousness\nthat escape is practically impossible. In these circumstances,\nhappier relations with others are often sought, but they have to be\nclandestine, without a common life, and without children. Apart from\nthe great evil of being clandestine, such relations have some almost\ninevitable drawbacks. They are liable to emphasize sex unduly, to be\nexciting and disturbing; and it is hardly possible that they should\nbring a real satisfaction of instinct. It is the combination of love,\nchildren, and a common life that makes the best relation between a man\nand a woman. The law at present confines children and a common life\nwithin the bonds of monogamy, but it cannot confine love. By forcing\nmany to separate love from children and a common life, the law cramps\ntheir lives, prevents them from reaching the full measure of their\npossible development, and inflicts a wholly unnecessary torture upon\nthose who are not content to become frivolous.\n\nTo sum up: The present state of the law, of public opinion, and of\nour economic system is tending to degrade the quality of the race, by\nmaking the worst half of the population the parents of more than half\nof the next generation. At the same time, women\u2019s claim to liberty\nis making the old form of marriage a hindrance to the development of\nboth men and women. A new system is required, if the European nations\nare not to degenerate, and if the relations of men and women are to\nhave the strong happiness and organic seriousness which belonged to\nthe best marriages in the past. The new system must be based upon the\nfact that to produce children is a service to the State, and ought\nnot to expose parents to heavy pecuniary penalties. It will have to\nrecognize that neither the law nor public opinion should concern itself\nwith the private relations of men and women, except where children\nare concerned. It ought to remove the inducements to make relations\nclandestine and childless. It ought to admit that, although lifelong\nmonogamy is best when it is successful, the increasing complexity of\nour needs makes it increasingly often a failure for which divorce\nis the best preventive. Here, as elsewhere, liberty is the basis of\npolitical wisdom. And when liberty has been won, what remains to be\ndesired must be left to the conscience and religion of individual men\nand women.\n\n\n\n\nVII\n\nRELIGION AND THE CHURCHES\n\n\nAlmost all the changes which the world has undergone since the\nend of the Middle Ages are due to the discovery and diffusion of\nnew knowledge. This was the primary cause of the Renaissance, the\nReformation, and the industrial revolution. It was also, very directly,\nthe cause of the decay of dogmatic religion. The study of classical\ntexts and early Church history, Copernican astronomy and physics,\nDarwinian biology and comparative anthropology, have each in turn\nbattered down some part of the edifice of Catholic dogma, until,\nfor almost all thinking and instructed people, the most that seems\ndefensible is some inner spirit, some vague hope, and some not very\ndefinite feeling of moral obligation. This result might perhaps have\nremained limited to the educated minority but for the fact that the\nChurches have almost everywhere opposed political progress with the\nsame bitterness with which they have opposed progress in thought.\nPolitical conservatism has brought the Churches into conflict with\nwhatever was vigorous in the working classes, and has spread free\nthought in wide circles which might otherwise have remained orthodox\nfor centuries. The decay of dogmatic religion is, for good or evil,\none of the most important facts in the modern world. Its effects have\nhardly yet begun to show themselves: what they will be it is impossible\nto say, but they will certainly be profound and far-reaching.\n\nReligion is partly personal, partly social: to the Protestant primarily\npersonal, to the Catholic primarily social. It is only when the two\nelements are intimately blended that religion becomes a powerful\nforce in molding society. The Catholic Church, as it existed from the\ntime of Constantine to the time of the Reformation, represented a\nblending which would have seemed incredible if it had not been actually\nachieved, the blending of Christ and C\u00e6sar, of the morality of humble\nsubmission with the pride of Imperial Rome. Those who loved the one\ncould find it in the Thebaid; those who loved the other could admire it\nin the pomp of metropolitan archbishops. In St. Francis and Innocent\nIII the same two sides of the Church are still represented. But\nsince the Reformation personal religion has been increasingly outside\nthe Catholic Church, while the religion which has remained Catholic\nhas been increasingly a matter of institutions and politics and\nhistoric continuity. This division has weakened the force of religion:\nreligious bodies have not been strengthened by the enthusiasm and\nsingle-mindedness of the men in whom personal religion is strong, and\nthese men have not found their teaching diffused and made permanent by\nthe power of ecclesiastical institutions.\n\nThe Catholic Church achieved, during the Middle Ages, the most organic\nsociety and the most harmonious inner synthesis of instinct, mind,\nand spirit, that the Western world has ever known. St. Francis,\nThomas Aquinas, and Dante represent its summit as regards individual\ndevelopment. The cathedrals, the mendicant Orders, and the triumph of\nthe Papacy over the Empire represent its supreme political success.\nBut the perfection which had been achieved was a narrow perfection:\ninstinct, mind, and spirit all suffered from curtailment in order to\nfit into the pattern; laymen found themselves subject to the Church in\nways which they resented, and the Church used its power for rapacity\nand oppression. The perfect synthesis was an enemy to new growth, and\nafter the time of Dante all that was living in the world had first to\nfight for its right to live against the representatives of the old\norder. This fight is even now not ended. Only when it is quite ended,\nboth in the external world of politics and in the internal world of\nmen\u2019s own thoughts, will it be possible for a new organic society and\na new inner synthesis to take the place which the Church held for a\nthousand years.\n\nThe clerical profession suffers from two causes, one of which it shares\nwith some other professions, while the other is peculiar to itself.\nThe cause peculiar to it is the convention that clergymen are more\nvirtuous than other men. Any average selection of mankind, set apart\nand told that it excels the rest in virtue, must tend to sink below the\naverage. This is an ancient commonplace in regard to princes and those\nwho used to be called \u201cthe great.\u201d But it is no less true as regards\nthose of the clergy who are not genuinely and by nature as much better\nthan the average as they are conventionally supposed to be. The other\nsource of harm to the clerical profession is endowments. Property\nwhich is only available for those who will support an established\ninstitution has a tendency to warp men\u2019s judgments as to the excellence\nof the institution. The tendency is aggravated when the property is\nassociated with social consideration and opportunities for petty power.\nIt is at its worst when the institution is tied by law to an ancient\ncreed, almost impossible to change, and yet quite out of touch with\nthe unfettered thought of the present day. All these causes combine to\ndamage the moral force of the Church.\n\nIt is not so much that the creed of the Church is the wrong one. What\nis amiss is the mere existence of a creed. As soon as income, position,\nand power are dependent upon acceptance of no matter what creed,\nintellectual honesty is imperiled. Men will tell themselves that a\nformal assent is justified by the good which it will enable them to do.\nThey fail to realize that, in those whose mental life has any vigor,\nloss of complete intellectual integrity puts an end to the power of\ndoing good, by producing gradually in all directions an inability to\nsee truth simply. The strictness of party discipline has introduced the\nsame evil in politics; there, because the evil is comparatively new, it\nis visible to many who think it unimportant as regards the Church. But\nthe evil is greater as regards the Church, because religion is of more\nimportance than politics, and because it is more necessary that the\nexponents of religion should be wholly free from taint.\n\nThe evils we have been considering seem inseparable from the existence\nof a professional priesthood. If religion is not to be harmful in a\nworld of rapid change, it must, like the Society of Friends, be carried\non by men who have other occupations during the week, who do their\nreligious work from enthusiasm, without receiving any payment. And such\nmen, because they know the everyday world, are not likely to fall into\na remote morality which no one regards as applicable to common life.\nBeing free, they will not be bound to reach certain conclusions decided\nin advance, but will be able to consider moral and religious questions\ngenuinely, without bias. Except in a quite stationary society, no\nreligious life can be living or a real support to the spirit unless it\nis freed from the incubus of a professional priesthood.\n\nIt is largely for these reasons that so little of what is valuable in\nmorals and religion comes nowadays from the men who are eminent in\nthe religious world. It is true that among professed believers there\nare many who are wholly sincere, who feel still the inspiration which\nChristianity brought before it had been weakened by the progress of\nknowledge. These sincere believers are valuable to the world because\nthey keep alive the conviction that the life of the spirit is what is\nof most importance to men and women. Some of them, in all the countries\nnow at war, have had the courage to preach peace and love in the name\nof Christ, and have done what lay in their power to mitigate the\nbitterness of hatred. All praise is due to these men, and without them\nthe world would be even worse than it is.\n\nBut it is not through even the most sincere and courageous believers\nin the traditional religion that a new spirit can come into the world.\nIt is not through them that religion can be brought back to those who\nhave lost it because their minds were active, not because their spirit\nwas dead. Believers in the traditional religion necessarily look to\nthe past for inspiration rather than to the future. They seek wisdom\nin the teaching of Christ, which, admirable as it is, remains quite\ninadequate for many of the social and spiritual issues of modern life.\nArt and intellect and all the problems of government are ignored in\nthe Gospels. Those who, like Tolstoy, endeavor seriously to take the\nGospels as a guide to life are compelled to regard the ignorant peasant\nas the best type of man, and to brush aside political questions by an\nextreme and impracticable anarchism.\n\nIf a religious view of life and the world is ever to reconquer the\nthoughts and feelings of free-minded men and women, much that we are\naccustomed to associate with religion will have to be discarded. The\nfirst and greatest change that is required is to establish a morality\nof initiative, not a morality of submission, a morality of hope rather\nthan fear, of things to be done rather than of things to be left\nundone. It is not the whole duty of man to slip through the world so\nas to escape the wrath of God. The world is _our_ world, and it rests\nwith us to make it a heaven or a hell. The power is ours, and the\nkingdom and the glory would be ours also if we had courage and insight\nto create them. The religious life that we must seek will not be one\nof occasional solemnity and superstitious prohibitions, it will not be\nsad or ascetic, it will concern itself little with rules of conduct.\nIt will be inspired by a vision of what human life may be, and will\nbe happy with the joy of creation, living in a large free world of\ninitiative and hope. It will love mankind, not for what they are to\nthe outward eye, but for what imagination shows that they have it in\nthem to become. It will not readily condemn, but it will give praise to\npositive achievement rather than negative sinlessness, to the joy of\nlife, the quick affection, the creative insight, by which the world may\ngrow young and beautiful and filled with vigor.\n\n\u201cReligion\u201d is a word which has many meanings and a long history. In\norigin, it was concerned with certain rites, inherited from a remote\npast, performed originally for some reason long since forgotten, and\nassociated from time to time with various myths to account for their\nsupposed importance. Much of this lingers still. A religious man is one\nwho goes to church, a communicant, one who \u201cpractises,\u201d as Catholics\nsay. How he behaves otherwise, or how he feels concerning life and\nman\u2019s place in the world, does not bear upon the question whether he\nis \u201creligious\u201d in this simple but historically correct sense. Many men\nand women are religious in this sense without having in their natures\nanything that deserves to be called religion in the sense in which I\nmean the word. The mere familiarity of the Church service has made\nthem impervious to it; they are unconscious of all the history and\nhuman experience by which the liturgy has been enriched, and unmoved\nby the glibly repeated words of the Gospel, which condemn almost all\nthe activities of those who fancy themselves disciples of Christ. This\nfate must overtake any habitual rite: it is impossible that it should\ncontinue to produce much effect after it has been performed so often as\nto grow mechanical.\n\nThe activities of men may be roughly derived from three sources, not\nin actual fact sharply separate one from another, but sufficiently\ndistinguishable to deserve different names. The three sources I mean\nare instinct, mind, and spirit, and of these three it is the life of\nthe spirit that makes religion.\n\nThe life of instinct includes all that man shares with the lower\nanimals, all that is concerned with self-preservation and reproduction\nand the desires and impulses derivative from these. It includes vanity\nand love of possessions, love of family, and even much of what makes\nlove of country. It includes all the impulses that are essentially\nconcerned with the biological success of oneself or one\u2019s group\u2014for\namong gregarious animals the life of instinct includes the group. The\nimpulses which it includes may not in fact make for success, and may\noften in fact militate against it, but are nevertheless those of which\nsuccess is the _raison d\u2019\u00eatre_, those which express the animal nature\nof man and his position among a world of competitors.\n\nThe life of the mind is the life of pursuit of knowledge, from mere\nchildish curiosity up to the greatest efforts of thought. Curiosity\nexists in animals, and serves an obvious biological purpose; but it\nis only in men that it passes beyond the investigation of particular\nobjects which may be edible or poisonous, friendly or hostile.\nCuriosity is the primary impulse out of which the whole edifice of\nscientific knowledge has grown. Knowledge has been found so useful\nthat most actual acquisition of it is no longer prompted by curiosity;\ninnumerable other motives now contribute to foster the intellectual\nlife. Nevertheless, direct love of knowledge and dislike of error still\nplay a very large part, especially with those who are most successful\nin learning. No man acquires much knowledge unless the acquisition is\nin itself delightful to him, apart from any consciousness of the use\nto which the knowledge may be put. The impulse to acquire knowledge\nand the activities which center round it constitute what I mean by the\nlife of the mind. The life of the mind consists of thought which is\nwholly or partially impersonal, in the sense that it concerns itself\nwith objects on their own account, and not merely on account of their\nbearing upon our instinctive life.\n\nThe life of the spirit centers round impersonal feeling, as the life\nof the mind centers round impersonal thought. In this sense, all art\nbelongs to the life of the spirit, though its greatness is derived\nfrom its being also intimately bound up with the life of instinct. Art\nstarts from instinct and rises into the region of the spirit; religion\nstarts from the spirit and endeavors to dominate and inform the life\nof instinct. It is possible to feel the same interest in the joys and\nsorrows of others as in our own, to love and hate independently of\nall relation to ourselves, to care about the destiny of man and the\ndevelopment of the universe without a thought that we are personally\ninvolved. Reverence and worship, the sense of an obligation to\nmankind, the feeling of imperativeness and acting under orders which\ntraditional religion has interpreted as Divine inspiration, all\nbelong to the life of the spirit. And deeper than all these lies the\nsense of a mystery half revealed, of a hidden wisdom and glory, of a\ntransfiguring vision in which common things lose their solid importance\nand become a thin veil behind which the ultimate truth of the world is\ndimly seen. It is such feelings that are the source of religion, and if\nthey were to die most of what is best would vanish out of life.\n\nInstinct, mind, and spirit are all essential to a full life; each has\nits own excellence and its own corruption. Each can attain a spurious\nexcellence at the expense of the others; each has a tendency to\nencroach upon the others; but in the life which is to be sought all\nthree will be developed in co\u00f6rdination, and intimately blended in a\nsingle harmonious whole. Among uncivilized men instinct is supreme,\nand mind and spirit hardly exist. Among educated men at the present\nday mind is developed, as a rule, at the expense of both instinct and\nspirit, producing a curious inhumanity and lifelessness, a paucity\nof both personal and impersonal desires, which leads to cynicism and\nintellectual destructiveness. Among ascetics and most of those who\nwould be called saints, the life of the spirit has been developed\nat the expense of instinct and mind, producing an outlook which is\nimpossible to those who have a healthy animal life and to those who\nhave a love of active thought. It is not in any of these one-sided\ndevelopments that we can find wisdom or a philosophy which will bring\nnew life to the civilized world.\n\nAmong civilized men and women at the present day it is rare to find\ninstinct, mind, and spirit in harmony. Very few have achieved a\npractical philosophy which gives its due place to each; as a rule,\ninstinct is at war with either mind or spirit, and mind and spirit are\nat war with each other. This strife compels men and women to direct\nmuch of their energy inwards, instead of being able to expend it all\nin objective activities. When a man achieves a precarious inward peace\nby the defeat of a part of his nature, his vital force is impaired,\nand his growth is no longer quite healthy. If men are to remain whole,\nit is very necessary that they should achieve a reconciliation of\ninstinct, mind, and spirit.\n\nInstinct is the source of vitality, the bond that unites the life of\nthe individual with the life of the race, the basis of all profound\nsense of union with others, and the means by which the collective life\nnourishes the life of the separate units. But instinct by itself leaves\nus powerless to control the forces of Nature, either in ourselves\nor in our physical environment, and keeps us in bondage to the same\nunthinking impulse by which the trees grow. Mind can liberate us from\nthis bondage, by the power of impersonal thought, which enables us to\njudge critically the purely biological purposes towards which instinct\nmore or less blindly tends. But mind, in its dealings with instinct,\nis _merely_ critical: so far as instinct is concerned, the unchecked\nactivity of the mind is apt to be destructive and to generate cynicism.\nSpirit is an antidote to the cynicism of mind: it universalizes the\nemotions that spring from instinct, and by universalizing them makes\nthem impervious to mental criticism. And when thought is informed by\nspirit it loses its cruel, destructive quality; it no longer promotes\nthe death of instinct, but only its purification from insistence and\nruthlessness and its emancipation from the prison walls of accidental\ncircumstance. It is instinct that gives force, mind that gives the\nmeans of directing force to desired ends, and spirit that suggests\nimpersonal uses for force of a kind that thought cannot discredit by\ncriticism. This is an outline of the parts that instinct, mind, and\nspirit would play in a harmonious life.\n\nInstinct, mind, and spirit are each a help to the others when their\ndevelopment is free and unvitiated; but when corruption comes into any\none of the three, not only does that one fail, but the others also\nbecome poisoned. All three must grow together. And if they are to grow\nto their full stature in any one man or woman, that man or woman must\nnot be isolated, but must be one of a society where growth is not\nthwarted and made crooked.\n\nThe life of instinct, when it is unchecked by mind or spirit,\nconsists of instinctive cycles, which begin with impulses to more\nor less definite acts, and pass on to satisfaction of needs through\nthe consequences of these impulsive acts. Impulse and desire are not\ndirected towards the whole cycle, but only towards its initiation:\nthe rest is left to natural causes. We desire to eat, but we do not\ndesire to be nourished unless we are valetudinarians. Yet without\nthe nourishment eating is a mere momentary pleasure, not part of the\ngeneral impulse to life. Men desire sexual intercourse, but they\ndo not as a rule desire children strongly or often. Yet without the\nhope of children and its occasional realization, sexual intercourse\nremains for most people an isolated and separate pleasure, not uniting\ntheir personal life with the life of mankind, not continuous with the\ncentral purposes by which they live, and not capable of bringing that\nprofound sense of fulfilment which comes from completion by children.\nMost men, unless the impulse is atrophied through disuse, feel a desire\nto create something, great or small according to their capacities.\nSome few are able to satisfy this desire: some happy men can create an\nEmpire, a science, a poem, or a picture. The men of science, who have\nless difficulty than any others in finding an outlet for creativeness,\nare the happiest of intelligent men in the modern world, since their\ncreative activity affords full satisfaction to mind and spirit as well\nas to the instinct of creation.[21] In them a beginning is to be seen\nof the new way of life which is to be sought; in their happiness we\nmay perhaps find the germ of a future happiness for all mankind. The\nrest, with few exceptions, are thwarted in their creative impulses.\nThey cannot build their own house or make their own garden, or direct\ntheir own labor to producing what their free choice would lead them to\nproduce. In this way the instinct of creation, which should lead on to\nthe life of mind and spirit, is checked and turned aside. Too often it\nis turned to destruction, as the only effective action which remains\npossible. Out of its defeat grows envy, and out of envy grows the\nimpulse to destroy the creativeness of more fortunate men. This is one\nof the greatest sources of corruption in the life of instinct.\n\nThe life of instinct is important, not only on its own account, or\nbecause of the direct usefulness of the actions which it inspires, but\nalso because, if it is unsatisfactory, the individual life becomes\ndetached and separated from the general life of man. All really\nprofound sense of unity with others depends upon instinct, upon\nco\u00f6peration or agreement in some instinctive purpose. This is most\nobvious in the relations of men and women and parents and children.\nBut it is true also in wider relations. It is true of large assemblies\nswayed by a strong common emotion, and even of a whole nation in\ntimes of stress. It is part of what makes the value of religion as a\nsocial institution. Where this feeling is wholly absent, other human\nbeings seem distant and aloof. Where it is actively thwarted, other\nhuman beings become objects of instinctive hostility. The aloofness\nor the instinctive hostility may be masked by religious love, which\ncan be given to all men regardless of their relation to ourselves. But\nreligious love does not bridge the gulf that parts man from man: it\nlooks across the gulf, it views others with compassion or impersonal\nsympathy, but it does not live with the same life with which they live.\nInstinct alone can do this, but only when it is fruitful and sane and\ndirect. To this end it is necessary that instinctive cycles should be\nfairly often completed, not interrupted in the middle of their course.\nAt present they are constantly interrupted, partly by purposes which\nconflict with them for economic or other reasons, partly by the pursuit\nof pleasure, which picks out the most agreeable part of the cycle and\navoids the rest. In this way instinct is robbed of its importance and\nseriousness; it becomes incapable of bringing any real fulfilment, its\ndemands grow more and more excessive, and life becomes no longer a\nwhole with a single movement, but a series of detached moments, some of\nthem pleasurable, most of them full of weariness and discouragement.\n\nThe life of the mind, although supremely excellent in itself, cannot\nbring health into the life of instinct, except when it results in a not\ntoo difficult outlet for the instinct of creation. In other cases it\nis, as a rule, too widely separated from instinct, too detached, too\ndestitute of inward growth, to afford either a vehicle for instinct\nor a means of subtilizing and refining it. Thought is in its essence\nimpersonal and detached, instinct is in its essence personal and tied\nto particular circumstances: between the two, unless both reach a\nhigh level, there is a war which is not easily appeased. This is the\nfundamental reason for vitalism, futurism, pragmatism, and the various\nother philosophies which advertise themselves as vigorous and virile.\nAll these represent the attempt to find a mode of thought which shall\nnot be hostile to instinct. The attempt, in itself, is deserving of\npraise, but the solution offered is far too facile. What is proposed\namounts to a subordination of thought to instinct, a refusal to allow\nthought to achieve its own ideal. Thought which does not rise above\nwhat is personal is not thought in any true sense: it is merely a more\nor less intelligent use of instinct. It is thought and spirit that\nraise man above the level of the brutes. By discarding them we may lose\nthe proper excellence of men, but cannot acquire the excellence of\nanimals. Thought must achieve its full growth before a reconciliation\nwith instinct is attempted.\n\nWhen refined thought and unrefined instinct coexist, as they do in many\nintellectual men, the result is a complete disbelief in any important\ngood to be achieved by the help of instinct. According to their\ndisposition, some such men will as far as possible discard instinct and\nbecome ascetic, while others will accept it as a necessity, leaving\nit degraded and separated from all that is really important in their\nlives. Either of these courses prevents instinct from remaining vital,\nor from being a bond with others; either produces a sense of physical\nsolitude, a gulf across which the minds and spirits of others may\nspeak, but not their instincts. To very many men, the instinct of\npatriotism, when the war broke out, was the first instinct that had\nbridged the gulf, the first that had made them feel a really profound\nunity with others. This instinct, just because, in its intense form,\nit was new and unfamiliar, had remained uninfected by thought, not\nparalyzed or devitalized by doubt and cold detachment. The sense of\nunity which it brought is capable of being brought by the instinctive\nlife of more normal times, if thought and spirit are not hostile to\nit. And so long as this sense of unity is absent, instinct and spirit\ncannot be in harmony, nor can the life of the community have vigor and\nthe seeds of new growth.\n\nThe life of the mind, because of its detachment, tends to separate a\nman inwardly from other men, so long as it is not balanced by the life\nof the spirit. For this reason, mind without spirit can render instinct\ncorrupt or atrophied, but cannot add any excellence to the life of\ninstinct. On this ground, some men are hostile to thought. But no good\npurpose is served by trying to prevent the growth of thought, which has\nits own insistence, and if checked in the directions in which it tends\nnaturally, will turn into other directions where it is more harmful.\nAnd thought is in itself god-like: if the opposition between thought\nand instinct were irreconcilable, it would be thought that ought to\nconquer. But the opposition is not irreconciliable: all that is\nnecessary is that both thought and instinct should be informed by the\nlife of the spirit.\n\nIn order that human life should have vigor, it is necessary for the\ninstinctive impulses to be strong and direct; but in order that human\nlife should be good, these impulses must be dominated and controlled\nby desires less personal and ruthless, less liable to lead to conflict\nthan those that are inspired by instinct alone. Something impersonal\nand universal is needed over and above what springs out of the\nprinciple of individual growth. It is this that is given by the life of\nthe spirit.\n\nPatriotism affords an example of the kind of control which is needed.\nPatriotism is compounded out of a number of instinctive feelings and\nimpulses: love of home, love of those whose ways and outlook resemble\nour own, the impulse to co\u00f6peration in a group, the sense of pride\nin the achievements of one\u2019s group. All these impulses and desires,\nlike everything belonging to the life of instinct, are personal, in\nthe sense that the feelings and actions which they inspire towards\nothers are determined by the relation of those others to ourselves,\nnot by what those others are intrinsically. All these impulses and\ndesires unite to produce a love of man\u2019s own country which is more\ndeeply implanted in the fiber of his being, and more closely united to\nhis vital force, than any love not rooted in instinct. But if spirit\ndoes not enter in to generalize love of country, the exclusiveness of\ninstinctive love makes it a source of hatred of other countries. What\nspirit can effect is to make us realize that other countries equally\nare worthy of love, that the vital warmth which makes us love our own\ncountry reveals to us that it deserves to be loved, and that only the\npoverty of our nature prevents us from loving all countries as we love\nour own. In this way instinctive love can be extended in imagination,\nand a sense of the value of all mankind can grow up, which is more\nliving and intense than any that is possible to those whose instinctive\nlove is weak. Mind can only show us that it is irrational to love our\nown country best; it can weaken patriotism, but cannot strengthen\nthe love of all mankind. Spirit alone can do this, by extending and\nuniversalizing the love that is born of instinct. And in doing this it\nchecks and purifies whatever is insistent or ruthless or oppressively\npersonal in the life of instinct.\n\nThe same extension through spirit is necessary with other instinctive\nloves, if they are not to be enfeebled or corrupted by thought. The\nlove of husband and wife is capable of being a very good thing, and\nwhen men and women are sufficiently primitive nothing but instinct\nand good fortune is needed to make it reach a certain limited\nperfection. But as thought begins to assert its right to criticize\ninstinct the old simplicity becomes impossible. The love of husband\nand wife, as unchecked instinct leaves it, is too narrow and personal\nto stand against the shafts of satire, until it is enriched by the\nlife of the spirit. The romantic view of marriage, which our fathers\nand mothers professed to believe, will not survive an imaginative\nperegrination down a street of suburban villas, each containing its\ncouple, each couple having congratulated themselves as they first\ncrossed the threshold, that here they could love in peace, without\ninterruption from others, without contact with the cold outside world.\nThe separateness and stuffiness, the fine names for cowardices and\ntimid vanities, that are shut within the four walls of thousands upon\nthousands of little villas, present themselves coldly and mercilessly\nto those in whom mind is dominant at the expense of spirit.\n\nNothing is good in the life of a human being except the very best that\nhis nature can achieve. As men advance, things which have been good\ncease to be good, merely because something better is possible. So it is\nwith the life of instinct: for those whose mental life is strong, much\nthat was really good while mind remained less developed has now become\nbad merely through the greater degree of truth in their outlook on the\nworld. The instinctive man in love feels that his emotion is unique,\nthat the lady of his heart has perfections such as no other woman ever\nequaled. The man who has acquired the power of impersonal thought\nrealizes, when he is in love, that he is one of so many millions of\nmen who are in love at this moment, that not more than one of all the\nmillions can be right in thinking his love supreme, and that it is not\nlikely that that one is oneself. He perceives that the state of being\nin love in those whose instinct is unaffected by thought or spirit,\nis a state of illusion, serving the ends of Nature and making a man\na slave to the life of the species, not a willing minister to the\nimpersonal ends which he sees to be good. Thought rejects this slavery;\nfor no end that Nature may have in view will thought abdicate, or forgo\nits right to think truly. \u201cBetter the world should perish than that\nI or any other human being should believe a lie\u201d\u2014this is the religion\nof thought, in whose scorching flames the dross of the world is being\nburnt away. It is a good religion, and its work of destruction must be\ncompleted. But it is not all that man has need of. New growth must come\nafter the destruction, and new growth can come only through the spirit.\n\nBoth patriotism and the love of man and woman, when they are merely\ninstinctive, have the same defects: their exclusions, their enclosing\nwalls, their indifference or hostility to the outside world. It is\nthrough this that thought is led to satire, that comedy has infected\nwhat men used to consider their holiest feelings. The satire and the\ncomedy are justified, but not the death of instinct which they may\nproduce if they remain in supreme command. They are justified, not as\nthe last word of wisdom but as the gateway of pain through which men\npass to a new life, where instinct is purified and yet nourished by the\ndeeper desires and insight of spirit.\n\nThe man who has the life of the spirit within him views the love of man\nand woman, both in himself and in others, quite differently from the\nman who is exclusively dominated by mind. He sees, in his moments of\ninsight, that in all human beings there is something deserving of love,\nsomething mysterious, something appealing, a cry out of the night, a\ngroping journey, and a possible victory. When his instinct loves, he\nwelcomes its help in seeing and feeling the value of the human being\nwhom he loves. Instinct becomes a reinforcement to spiritual insight.\nWhat instinct tells him spiritual insight confirms, however much the\nmind may be aware of littlenesses, limitations, and enclosing walls\nthat prevent the spirit from shining forth. His spirit divines in all\nmen what his instinct shows him in the object of his love.\n\nThe love of parents for children has need of the same transformation.\nThe purely instinctive love, unchecked by thought, uninformed by\nspirit, is exclusive, ruthless, and unjust. No benefit to others is\nfelt, by the purely instinctive parent, to be worth an injury to one\u2019s\nown children. Honor and conventional morality place certain important\npractical limitations on the vicarious selfishness of parents, since\na civilized community exacts a certain minimum before it will give\nrespect. But within the limits allowed by public opinion, parental\naffection, when it is merely instinctive, will seek the advantage\nof children without regard to others. Mind can weaken the impulse to\ninjustice, and diminish the force of instinctive love, but it cannot\nkeep the whole force of instinctive love and turn it to more universal\nends. Spirit can do this. It can leave the instinctive love of children\nundimmed, and extend the poignant devotion of a parent, in imagination,\nto the whole world. And parental love itself will prompt the parent\nwho has the life of the spirit to give to his children the sense of\njustice, the readiness for service, the reverence, the will that\ncontrols self-seeking, which he feels to be a greater good than any\npersonal success.\n\nThe life of the spirit has suffered in recent times by its association\nwith traditional religion, by its apparent hostility to the life of the\nmind, and by the fact that it has seemed to center in renunciation.\nThe life of the spirit demands readiness for renunciation when the\noccasion arises, but is in its essence as positive and as capable of\nenriching individual existence as mind and instinct are. It brings with\nit the joy of vision, of the mystery and profundity of the world, of\nthe contemplation of life, and above all the joy of universal love.\nIt liberates those who have it from the prison-house of insistent\npersonal passion and mundane cares. It gives freedom and breadth and\nbeauty to men\u2019s thoughts and feelings, and to all their relations with\nothers. It brings the solution of doubts, the end of the feeling that\nall is vanity. It restores harmony between mind and instinct, and leads\nthe separated unit back into his place in the life of mankind. For\nthose who have once entered the world of thought, it is only through\nspirit that happiness and peace can return.\n\n\n\n\nVIII\n\nWHAT WE CAN DO\n\n\nWhat can we do for the world while we live?\n\nMany men and women would wish to serve mankind, but they are perplexed\nand their power seems infinitesimal. Despair seizes them; those who\nhave the strongest passion suffer most from the sense of impotence, and\nare most liable to spiritual ruin through lack of hope.\n\nSo long as we think only of the immediate future, it seems that what\nwe can do is not much. It is probably impossible for us to bring the\nwar to an end. We cannot destroy the excessive power of the State or\nof private property. We cannot, here and now, bring new life into\neducation. In such matters, though we may see the evil, we cannot\nquickly cure it by any of the ordinary methods of politics. We must\nrecognize that the world is ruled in a wrong spirit, and that a change\nof spirit will not come from one day to the next. Our expectations\nmust not be for to-morrow, but for the time when what is thought now by\na few shall have become the common thought of many. If we have courage\nand patience, we can think the thoughts and feel the hopes by which,\nsooner or later, men will be inspired, and weariness and discouragement\nwill be turned into energy and ardor. For this reason, the first thing\nwe have to do is to be clear in our own minds as to the kind of life we\nthink good and the kind of change that we desire in the world.\n\nThe ultimate power of those whose thought is vital is far greater than\nit seems to men who suffer from the irrationality of contemporary\npolitics. Religious toleration was once the solitary speculation of a\nfew bold philosophers. Democracy, as a theory, arose among a handful of\nmen in Cromwell\u2019s army; by them, after the Restoration, it was carried\nto America, where it came to fruition in the War of Independence. From\nAmerica, Lafayette and the other Frenchmen who fought by the side of\nWashington brought the theory of democracy to France, where it united\nitself with the teaching of Rousseau and inspired the Revolution.\nSocialism, whatever we may think of its merits, is a great and growing\npower, which is transforming economic and political life; and socialism\nowes its origin to a very small number of isolated theorists. The\nmovement against the subjection of women, which has become irresistible\nand is not far from complete triumph, began in the same way with a few\nimpracticable idealists\u2014Mary Wollstonecraft, Shelley, John Stuart Mill.\nThe power of thought, in the long run, is greater than any other human\npower. Those who have the ability to think and the imagination to think\nin accordance with men\u2019s needs, are likely to achieve the good they aim\nat sooner or later, though probably not while they are still alive.\n\nBut those who wish to gain the world by thought must be content to\nlose it as a support in the present. Most men go through life without\nmuch questioning, accepting the beliefs and practices which they find\ncurrent, feeling that the world will be their ally if they do not\nput themselves in opposition to it. New thought about the world is\nincompatible with this comfortable acquiescence; it requires a certain\nintellectual detachment, a certain solitary energy, a power of inwardly\ndominating the world and the outlook that the world engenders. Without\nsome willingness to be lonely new thought cannot be achieved. And it\nwill not be achieved to any purpose if the loneliness is accompanied\nby aloofness, so that the wish for union with others dies, or if\nintellectual detachment leads to contempt. It is because the state\nof mind required is subtle and difficult, because it is hard to be\nintellectually detached yet not aloof, that fruitful thought on human\naffairs is not common, and that most theorists are either conventional\nor sterile. The right kind of thought is rare and difficult, but it is\nnot impotent. It is not the fear of impotence that need turn us aside\nfrom thought if we have the wish to bring new hope into the world.\n\nIn seeking a political theory which is to be useful at any given\nmoment, what is wanted is not the invention of a Utopia, but the\ndiscovery of the best direction of movement. The direction which is\ngood at one time may be superficially very different from that which\nis good at another time. Useful thought is that which indicates the\nright direction for the present time. But in judging what is the right\ndirection there are two general principles which are always applicable.\n\n1. The growth and vitality of individuals and communities is to be\npromoted as far as possible.\n\n2. The growth of one individual or one community is to be as little as\npossible at the expense of another.\n\nThe second of these principles, as applied by an individual in his\ndealings with others, is the principle of _reverence_, that the life\nof another has the same importance which we feel in our own life. As\napplied impersonally in politics, it is the principle of _liberty_,\nor rather it includes the principle of liberty as a part. Liberty in\nitself is a negative principle; it tells us not to interfere, but does\nnot give any basis for construction. It shows that many political and\nsocial institutions are bad and ought to be swept away, but it does not\nshow what ought to be put in their place. For this reason a further\nprinciple is required, if our political theory is not to be purely\ndestructive.\n\nThe combination of our two principles is not in practice an easy\nmatter. Much of the vital energy of the world runs into channels which\nare oppressive. The Germans have shown themselves extraordinarily full\nof vital energy, but unfortunately in a form which seems incompatible\nwith the vitality of their neighbors. Europe in general has more vital\nenergy than Africa, but it has used its energy to drain Africa, through\nindustrialism, of even such life as the negroes possessed. The vitality\nof southeastern Europe is being drained to supply cheap labor for the\nenterprise of American millionaires. The vitality of men has been in\nthe past a hindrance to the development of women, and it is possible\nthat in the near future women may become a similar hindrance to men.\nFor such reasons the principle of reverence, though not in itself\nsufficient, is of very great importance, and is able to indicate many\nof the political changes that the world requires.\n\nIn order that both principles may be capable of being satisfied, what\nis needed is a unifying or integration, first of our individual lives,\nthen of the life of the community and of the world, without sacrifice\nof individuality. The life of an individual, the life of a community,\nand even the life of mankind, ought to be, not a number of separate\nfragments but in some sense a whole. When this is the case, the growth\nof the individual is fostered, and is not incompatible with the growth\nof other individuals. In this way the two principles are brought into\nharmony.\n\nWhat integrates an individual life is a consistent creative purpose or\nunconscious direction. Instinct alone will not suffice to give unity\nto the life of a civilized man or woman: there must be some dominant\nobject, an ambition, a desire for scientific or artistic creation, a\nreligious principle, or strong and lasting affections. Unity of life is\nvery difficult for a man or woman who has suffered a certain kind of\ndefeat, the kind by which what should have been the dominant impulse\nis checked and made abortive. Most professions inflict this kind of\ndefeat upon a man at the very outset. If a man becomes a journalist, he\nprobably has to write for a newspaper whose politics he dislikes; this\nkills his pride in work and his sense of independence. Most medical\nmen find it very hard to succeed without humbug, by which whatever\nscientific conscience they may have had is destroyed. Politicians are\nobliged, not only to swallow the party program but to pretend to be\nsaints, in order to conciliate religious supporters; hardly any man\ncan enter Parliament without hypocrisy. In no profession is there any\nrespect for the native pride without which a man cannot remain whole;\nthe world ruthlessly crushes it out, because it implies independence,\nand men desire to enslave others more than they desire to be free\nthemselves. Inward freedom is infinitely precious, and a society which\nwill preserve it is immeasurably to be desired.\n\nThe principle of growth in a man is not crushed necessarily by\npreventing him from doing some definite thing, but it is often crushed\nby persuading him to do something else. The things that crush growth\nare those that produce a sense of impotence in the directions in which\nthe vital impulse wishes to be effective. The worst things are those to\nwhich the will assents. Often, chiefly from failure of self-knowledge,\na man\u2019s will is on a lower level than his impulse: his impulse is\ntowards some kind of creation, while his will is towards a conventional\ncareer, with a sufficient income and the respect of his contemporaries.\nThe stereotyped illustration is the artist who produces shoddy work\nto please the public. But something of the artist\u2019s definiteness of\nimpulse exists in very many men who are not artists. Because the\nimpulse is deep and dumb, because what is called common sense is often\nagainst it, because a young man can only follow it if he is willing to\nset up his own obscure feelings against the wisdom and prudent maxims\nof elders and friends, it happens in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred\nthat the creative impulse, out of which a free and vigorous life might\nhave sprung, is checked and thwarted at the very outset: the young man\nconsents to become a tool, not an independent workman; a mere means\nto the fulfilment of others, not the artificer of what his own nature\nfeels to be good. In the moment when he makes this act of consent\nsomething dies within him. He can never again become a whole man,\nnever again have the undamaged self-respect, the upright pride, which\nmight have kept him happy in his soul in spite of all outward troubles\nand difficulties\u2014except, indeed, through conversion and a fundamental\nchange in his way of life.\n\nOutward prohibitions, to which the will gives no assent, are far\nless harmful than the subtler inducements which seduce the will. A\nserious disappointment in love may cause the most poignant pain, but\nto a vigorous man it will not do the same inward damage as is done by\nmarrying for money. The achievement of this or that special desire is\nnot what is essential: what is essential is the direction, the _kind_\nof effectiveness which is sought. When the fundamental impulse is\nopposed by will, it is made to feel helpless: it has no longer enough\nhope to be powerful as a motive. Outward compulsion does not do the\nsame damage unless it produces the same sense of impotence; and it will\nnot produce the same sense of impotence if the impulse is strong and\ncourageous. Some thwarting of special desires is unavoidable even in\nthe best imaginable community, since some men\u2019s desires, unchecked,\nlead to the oppression or destruction of others. In a good community\nNapoleon could not have been allowed the profession of his choice, but\nhe might have found happiness as a pioneer in Western America. He could\nnot have found happiness as a City clerk, and no tolerable organization\nof society would compel him to become a City clerk.\n\nThe integration of an individual life requires that it should embody\nwhatever creative impulse a man may possess, and that his education\nshould have been such as to elicit and fortify this impulse. The\nintegration of a community requires that the different creative\nimpulses of different men and women should work together towards some\ncommon life, some common purpose, not necessarily conscious, in which\nall the members of the community find a help to their individual\nfulfilment. Most of the activities that spring from vital impulses\nconsist of two parts: one creative, which furthers one\u2019s own life and\nthat of others with the same kind of impulse or circumstances, and\none possessive, which hinders the life of some group with a different\nkind of impulse or circumstances. For this reason, much of what is in\nitself most vital may nevertheless work against life, as, for example,\nseventeenth-century Puritanism did in England, or as nationalism\ndoes throughout Europe at the present day. Vitality easily leads to\nstrife or oppression, and so to loss of vitality. War, at its outset,\nintegrates the life of a nation, but it disintegrates the life of the\nworld, and in the long run the life of a nation too, when it is as\nsevere as the present war.\n\nThe war has made it clear that it is impossible to produce a secure\nintegration of the life of a single community while the relations\nbetween civilized countries are governed by aggressiveness and\nsuspicion. For this reason any really powerful movement of reform\nwill have to be international. A merely national movement is sure to\nfail through fear of danger from without. Those who desire a better\nworld, or even a radical improvement in their own country, will have\nto co\u00f6perate with those who have similar desires in other countries,\nand to devote much of their energy to overcoming that blind hostility\nwhich the war has intensified. It is not in partial integrations,\nsuch as patriotism alone can produce, that any ultimate hope is to be\nfound. The problem is, in national and international questions as in\nthe individual life, to keep what is creative in vital impulses, and at\nthe same time to turn into other channels the part which is at present\ndestructive.\n\nMen\u2019s impulses and desires may be divided into those that are creative\nand those that are possessive. Some of our activities are directed to\ncreating what would not otherwise exist, others are directed towards\nacquiring or retaining what exists already. The typical creative\nimpulse is that of the artist; the typical possessive impulse is\nthat of property. The best life is that in which creative impulses\nplay the largest part and possessive impulses the smallest. The best\ninstitutions are those which produce the greatest possible creativeness\nand the least possessiveness compatible with self-preservation.\nPossessiveness may be defensive or aggressive: in the criminal law it\nis defensive, and in criminals it is aggressive. It may perhaps be\nadmitted that the criminal law is less abominable than the criminal,\nand that defensive possessiveness is unavoidable so long as aggressive\npossessiveness exists. But not even the most purely defensive forms of\npossessiveness are in themselves admirable; indeed, as soon as they are\nstrong they become hostile to the creative impulses. \u201cTake no thought,\nsaying, What shall we eat? or What shall we drink, or Wherewithal\nshall we be clothed?\u201d Whoever has known a strong creative impulse has\nknown the value of this precept in its exact and literal sense: it is\npreoccupation with possessions, more than anything else, that prevents\nmen from living freely and nobly. The State and Property are the great\nembodiments of possessiveness; it is for this reason that they are\nagainst life, and that they issue in war. Possession means taking or\nkeeping some good thing which another is prevented from enjoying;\ncreation means putting into the world a good thing which otherwise\nno one would be able to enjoy. Since the material goods of the world\nmust be divided among the population, and since some men are by nature\nbrigands, there must be defensive possession, which will be regulated,\nin a good community, by some principle of impersonal justice. But all\nthis is only the preface to a good life or good political institutions,\nin which creation will altogether outweigh possession, and distributive\njustice will exist as an uninteresting matter of course.\n\nThe supreme principle, both in politics and in private life, should\nbe _to promote all that is creative, and so to diminish the impulses\nand desires that center round possession_. The State at present is\nvery largely an embodiment of possessive impulses: internally, it\nprotects the rich against the poor; externally, it uses force for the\nexploitation of inferior races, and for competition with other States.\nOur whole economic system is concerned exclusively with possession; yet\nthe production of goods is a form of creation, and except in so far as\nit is irredeemably mechanical and monotonous, it might afford a vehicle\nfor creative impulses. A great deal might be achieved towards this\nend by forming the producers of a certain kind of commodity into an\nautonomous democracy, subject to State control as regards the price of\ntheir commodity but not as to the manner of its production.\n\nEducation, marriage, and religion are essentially creative, yet all\nthree have been vitiated by the intrusion of possessive motives.\nEducation is usually treated as a means of prolonging the _status quo_\nby instilling prejudices, rather than of creating free thought and a\nnoble outlook by the example of generous feeling and the stimulus of\nmental adventure. In marriage, love, which is creative, is kept in\nchains by jealousy, which is possessive. Religion, which should set\nfree the creative vision of the spirit, is usually more concerned\nto repress the life of instinct and to combat the subversiveness of\nthought. In all these ways the fear that grows out of precarious\npossession has replaced the hope inspired by creative force. The wish\nto plunder others is recognized, in theory, to be bad; but the fear of\nbeing plundered is little better. Yet these two motives between them\ndominate nine-tenths of politics and private life.\n\nThe creative impulses in different men are essentially harmonious,\nsince what one man creates cannot be a hindrance to what another is\nwishing to create. It is the possessive impulses that involve conflict.\nAlthough, morally and politically, the creative and possessive impulses\nare opposites, yet psychologically either passes easily into the\nother, according to the accidents of circumstance and opportunity. The\ngenesis of impulses and the causes which make them change ought to be\nstudied; education and social institutions ought to be made such as\nto strengthen the impulses which harmonize in different men, and to\nweaken those that involve conflict. I have no doubt that what might be\naccomplished in this way is almost unlimited.\n\nIt is rather through impulse than through will that individual lives\nand the life of the community can derive the strength unity of a\nsingle direction. Will is of two kinds, of which one is directed\noutward and the other inward. The first, which is directed outward,\nis called into play by external obstacles, either the opposition of\nothers or the technical difficulties of an undertaking. This kind of\nwill is an expression of strong impulse or desire, whenever instant\nsuccess is impossible; it exists in all whose life is vigorous, and\nonly decays when their vital force is enfeebled. It is necessary to\nsuccess in any difficult enterprise, and without it great achievement\nis very rare. But the will which is directed inward is only necessary\nin so far as there is an inner conflict of impulses or desires; a\nperfectly harmonious nature would have no occasion for inward will.\nSuch perfect harmony is of course a scarcely realizable ideal: in all\nmen impulses arise which are incompatible with their central purpose,\nand which must be checked if their life as a whole is not to be a\nfailure. But this will happen least with those whose central impulses\nare strongest; and it will happen less often in a society which aims\nat freedom than in a society like ours, which is full of artificial\nincompatibilities created by antiquated institutions and a tyrannous\npublic opinion. The power to exert inward will when the occasion arises\nmust always be needed by those who wish their lives to embody some\ncentral purpose, but with better institutions the occasions when inward\nwill is necessary might be made fewer and less important. This result\nis very much to be desired, because when will checks impulses which are\nonly accidentally harmful, it diverts a force which might be spent on\novercoming outward obstacles, and if the impulses checked are strong\nand serious, it actually diminishes the vital force available. A life\nfull of inhibitions is likely not to remain a very vigorous life but\nto become listless and without zest. Impulse tends to die when it is\nconstantly held in check, and if it does not die, it is apt to work\nunderground, and issue in some form much worse than that in which it\nhas been checked. For these reasons the necessity for using inward will\nought to be avoided as much as possible, and consistency of action\nought to spring rather from consistency of impulse than from control of\nimpulse by will.\n\nThe unifying of life ought not to demand the suppression of the casual\ndesires that make amusement and play; on the contrary, everything ought\nto be done to make it easy to combine the main purposes of life with\nall kinds of pleasure that are not in their nature harmful. Such things\nas habitual drunkenness, drugs, cruel sports, or pleasure in inflicting\npain are essentially harmful, but most of the amusements that civilized\nmen naturally enjoy are either not harmful at all or only accidentally\nharmful through some effect which might be avoided in a better society.\nWhat is needed is, not asceticism or a drab Puritanism, but capacity\nfor strong impulses and desires directed towards large creative ends.\nWhen such impulses and desires are vigorous, they bring with them, of\nthemselves, what is needed to make a good life.\n\nBut although amusement and adventure ought to have their share, it is\nimpossible to create a good life if they are what is mainly desired.\nSubjectivism, the habit of directing thought and desire to our own\nstates of mind rather than to something objective, inevitably makes\nlife fragmentary and unprogressive. The man to whom amusement is the\nend of life tends to lose interest gradually in the things out of\nwhich he has been in the habit of obtaining amusement, since he does\nnot value these things on their own account, but on account of the\nfeelings which they arouse in him. When they are no longer amusing,\nboredom drives him to seek some new stimulus, which fails him in its\nturn. Amusement consists in a series of moments without any essential\ncontinuity; a purpose which unifies life is one which requires some\nprolonged activity, and is like building a monument rather than a\nchild\u2019s castle in the sand.\n\nSubjectivism has other forms beside the mere pursuit of amusement.\nMany men, when they are in love, are more interested in their own\nemotion than in the object of their love; such love does not lead to\nany essential union, but leaves fundamental separateness undiminished.\nAs soon as the emotion grows less vivid the experience has served its\npurpose, and there seems no motive for prolonging it. In another way,\nthe same evil of subjectivism was fostered by Protestant religion and\nmorality, since they directed attention to sin and the state of the\nsoul rather than to the outer world and our relations with it. None\nof these forms of subjectivism can prevent a man\u2019s life from being\nfragmentary and isolated. Only a life which springs out of dominant\nimpulses directed to objective ends can be a satisfactory whole, or be\nintimately united with the lives of others.\n\nThe pursuit of pleasure and the pursuit of virtue alike suffer from\nsubjectivism: Epicureanism and Stoicism are infected with the same\ntaint. Marcus Aurelius, enacting good laws in order that he might\nbe virtuous, is not an attractive figure. Subjectivism is a natural\noutcome of a life in which there is much more thought than action:\nwhile outer things are being remembered or desired, not actually\nexperienced, they seem to become mere ideas. What they are in\nthemselves becomes less interesting to us than the effects which they\nproduce in our own minds. Such a result tends to be brought about by\nincreasing civilization, because increasing civilization continually\ndiminishes the need for vivid action and enhances the opportunities\nfor thought. But thought will not have this bad result if it is active\nthought, directed towards achieving some purpose; it is only passive\nthought that leads to subjectivism. What is needed is to keep thought\nin intimate union with impulses and desires, making it always itself\nan activity with an objective purpose. Otherwise, thought and impulse\nbecome enemies, to the great detriment of both.\n\nIn order to make the lives of average men and women less fragmentary\nand separate, and to give greater opportunity for carrying out creative\nimpulses, it is not enough to know the goal we wish to reach, or to\nproclaim the excellence of what we desire to achieve. It is necessary\nto understand the effect of institutions and beliefs upon the life of\nimpulse, and to discover ways of improving this effect by a change\nin institutions. And when this intellectual work has been done, our\nthought will still remain barren unless we can bring it into relation\nwith some powerful political force. The only powerful political force\nfrom which any help is to be expected in bringing about such changes\nas seem needed is Labor. The changes required are very largely such\nas Labor may be expected to welcome, especially during the time of\nhardship after the war. When the war is over, labor discontent is sure\nto be very prevalent throughout Europe, and to constitute a political\nforce by means of which a great and sweeping reconstruction may be\neffected.\n\nThe civilized world has need of fundamental change if it is to be saved\nfrom decay\u2014change both in its economic structure and in its philosophy\nof life. Those of us who feel the need of change must not sit still in\ndull despair: we can, if we choose, profoundly influence the future. We\ncan discover and preach the kind of change that is required\u2014the kind\nthat preserves what is positive in the vital beliefs of our time, and,\nby eliminating what is negative and inessential, produces a synthesis\nto which all that is not purely reactionary can give allegiance. As\nsoon as it has become clear what _kind_ of change is required, it will\nbe possible to work out its parts in more detail. But until the war is\nended there is little use in detail, since we do not know what kind of\nworld the war will leave. The only thing that seems indubitable is that\nmuch new thought will be required in the new world produced by the\nwar. Traditional views will give little help. It is clear that men\u2019s\nmost important actions are not guided by the sort of motives that are\nemphasized in traditional political philosophies. The impulses by which\nthe war has been produced and sustained come out of a deeper region\nthan that of most political argument. And the opposition to the war\non the part of those few who have opposed it comes from the same deep\nregion. A political theory, if it is to hold in times of stress, must\ntake account of the impulses that underlie explicit thought: it must\nappeal to them, and it must discover how to make them fruitful rather\nthan destructive.\n\nEconomic systems have a great influence in promoting or destroying\nlife. Except slavery, the present industrial system is the most\ndestructive of life that has ever existed. Machinery and large-scale\nproduction are ineradicable, and must survive in any better system\nwhich is to replace the one under which we live. Industrial federal\ndemocracy is probably the best direction for reform to take.\n\nPhilosophies of life, when they are widely believed, also have a\nvery great influence on the vitality of a community. The most widely\naccepted philosophy of life at present is that what matters most to\na man\u2019s happiness is his income. This philosophy, apart from other\ndemerits, is harmful because it leads men to aim at a result rather\nthan an activity, an enjoyment of material goods in which men are not\ndifferentiated, rather than a creative impulse which embodies each\nman\u2019s individuality. More refined philosophies, such as are instilled\nby higher education, are too apt to fix attention on the past rather\nthan the future, and on correct behavior rather than effective action.\nIt is not in such philosophies that men will find the energy to bear\nlightly the weight of tradition and of ever-accumulating knowledge.\n\nThe world has need of a philosophy, or a religion, which will promote\nlife. But in order to promote life it is necessary to value something\nother than mere life. Life devoted only to life is animal without\nany real human value, incapable of preserving men permanently from\nweariness and the feeling that all is vanity. If life is to be fully\nhuman it must serve some end which seems, in some sense, outside\nhuman life, some end which is impersonal and above mankind, such as\nGod or truth or beauty. Those who best promote life do not have life\nfor their purpose. They aim rather at what seems like a gradual\nincarnation, a bringing into our human existence of something eternal,\nsomething that appears to imagination to live in a heaven remote from\nstrife and failure and the devouring jaws of Time. Contact with this\neternal world\u2014even if it be only a world of our imagining\u2014brings a\nstrength and a fundamental peace which cannot be wholly destroyed\nby the struggles and apparent failures of our temporal life. It is\nthis happy contemplation of what is eternal that Spinoza calls the\nintellectual love of God. To those who have once known it, it is the\nkey of wisdom.\n\nWhat we have to do practically is different for each one of us,\naccording to our capacities and opportunities. But if we have the life\nof the spirit within us, what we must do and what we must avoid will\nbecome apparent to us.\n\nBy contact with what is eternal, by devoting our life to bringing\nsomething of the Divine into this troubled world, we can make our own\nlives creative even now, even in the midst of the cruelty and strife\nand hatred that surround us on every hand. To make the individual life\ncreative is far harder in a community based on possession than it would\nbe in such a community as human effort may be able to build up in the\nfuture. Those who are to begin the regeneration of the world must face\nloneliness, opposition, poverty, obloquy. They must be able to live\nby truth and love, with a rational unconquerable hope; they must be\nhonest and wise, fearless, and guided by a consistent purpose. A body\nof men and women so inspired will conquer\u2014first the difficulties and\nperplexities of their individual lives, then, in time, though perhaps\nonly in a long time, the outer world. Wisdom and hope are what the\nworld needs; and though it fights against them, it gives its respect to\nthem in the end.\n\nWhen the Goths sacked Rome, St. Augustine wrote the \u201cCity of God,\u201d\nputting a spiritual hope in place of the material reality that had been\ndestroyed. Throughout the centuries that followed St. Augustine\u2019s hope\nlived and gave life, while Rome sank to a village of hovels. For us,\ntoo, it is necessary to create a new hope, to build up by our thought\na better world than the one which is hurling itself into ruin. Because\nthe times are bad, more is required of us than would be required in\nnormal times. Only a supreme fire of thought and spirit can save future\ngenerations from the death that has befallen the generation which we\nknew and loved.\n\nIt has been my good fortune to come in contact as a teacher with young\nmen of many different nations\u2014young men in whom hope was alive, in\nwhom the creative energy existed that would have realized in the world\nsome part at least of the imagined beauty by which they lived. They\nhave been swept into the war, some on one side, some on the other.\nSome are still fighting, some are maimed for life, some are dead; of\nthose who survive it is to be feared that many will have lost the life\nof the spirit, that hope will have died, that energy will be spent,\nand that the years to come will be only a weary journey towards the\ngrave. Of all this tragedy, not a few of those who teach seem to have\nno feeling: with ruthless logic, they prove that these young men have\nbeen sacrificed unavoidably for some coldly abstract end; undisturbed\nthemselves, they lapse quickly into comfort after any momentary assault\nof feeling. In such men the life of the spirit is dead. If it were\nliving, it would go out to meet the spirit in the young, with a love\nas poignant as the love of father or mother. It would be unaware of\nthe bounds of self; their tragedy would be its own. Something would\ncry out: \u201cNo, this is not right; this is not good; this is not a holy\ncause, in which the brightness of youth is destroyed and dimmed. It\nis we, the old, who have sinned; we have sent these young men to the\nbattlefield for our evil passions, our spiritual death, our failure to\nlive generously out of the warmth of the heart and out of the living\nvision of the spirit. Let us come out of this death, for it is we who\nare dead, not the young men who have died through our fear of life.\nTheir very ghosts have more life than we: they hold us up for ever to\nthe shame and obloquy of all the ages to come. Out of their ghosts must\ncome life, and it is we whom they must vivify.\u201d\n\n\nTHE END\n\n\n\n\nFOOTNOTES\n\n\n[1] On this subject compare Bernard Hart\u2019s \u201cPsychology of Insanity\u201d\n(Cambridge University Press, 1914), chap. v, especially pp. 62\u20135.\n\n[2] This was written before Christianity had become punishable by hard\nlabor, penal servitude, or even death, under the Military Service Act\n(No. 2). [Note added in 1916.]\n\n[3] The blasphemy prosecutions.\n\n[4] The syndicalist prosecutions. [The punishment of conscientious\nobjectors must now be added, 1916.]\n\n[5] In a democratic country it is the majority who must after all rule,\nand the minority will be obliged to submit with the best grace possible\n(_Westminster Gazette_ on Conscription, December 29, 1915).\n\n[6] Some very strong remarks on the conduct of the \u201cwhite feather\u201d\nwomen were made by Mr. Reginald Kemp, the Deputy Coroner for West\nMiddlesex, at an inquest at Ealing on Saturday on Richard Charles\nRoberts, aged thirty-four, a taxicab driver, of Shepherd\u2019s Bush, who\ncommitted suicide in consequence of worry caused by his rejection from\nthe Army and the taunts of women and other amateur recruiters.\n\nIt was stated that he tried to join the Army in October, but was\nrejected on account of a weak heart. That alone, said his widow, had\ndepressed him, and he had been worried because he thought he would lose\nhis license owing to the state of his heart. He had also been troubled\nby the dangerous illness of a child.\n\nA soldier relative said that the deceased\u2019s life had been made \u201ca\nperfect misery\u201d by women who taunted him and called him a coward\nbecause he did not join the Army. A few days ago two women in Maida\nVale insulted him \u201csomething shocking.\u201d\n\nThe Coroner, speaking with some warmth, said the conduct of such\nwomen was abominable. It was scandalous that women who knew nothing\nof individual circumstances should be allowed to go about making\nunbearable the lives of men who had tried to do their duty. It was a\npity they had nothing better to do. Here was a man who perhaps had been\ndriven to death by a pack of silly women. He hoped something would soon\nbe done to put a stop to such conduct (_Daily News_, July 26, 1915).\n\n[7] By England in South Africa, America in the Philippines, France\nin Morocco, Italy in Tripoli, Germany in Southwest Africa, Russia in\nPersia and Manchuria, Japan in Manchuria.\n\n[8] This was written in 1915.\n\n[9] This would be as true under a syndicalist r\u00e9gime as it is at\npresent.\n\n[10] These changes, which are to be desired on their own account, not\nonly in order to prevent war, will be discussed in later lectures.\n\n[11] What is said on this subject in the present lecture is only\npreliminary, since the subsequent lectures all deal with some aspect of\nthe same problem.\n\n[12] Except by that small minority who are capable of artistic\nenjoyment.\n\n[13] Booth\u2019s \u201cLife and Labour of the People,\u201d vol. iii.\n\n[14] As regards the education of young children, Madame Montessori\u2019s\nmethods seem to me full of wisdom.\n\n[15] THE TEACHING OF PATRIOTISM. HIS MAJESTY\u2019S APPROVAL.\n\nThe King has been graciously pleased to accept a copy of the little\nbook containing suggestions to local education authorities and teachers\nin Wales as to the teaching of patriotism which has just been issued\nby the Welsh Department of the Board of Education in connection with\nthe observance of the National Anniversary of St. David\u2019s Day. His\nPrivate Secretary (Lord Stamfordham), in writing to Mr. Alfred T.\nDavies, the Permanent Secretary of the Welsh Department, says that his\nMajesty is much pleased with the contents of the book, and trusts that\nthe principles inculcated in it will bear good fruit in the lives and\ncharacters of the coming generation.\u2014_Morning Post_, January 29, 1916.\n\n[16] What Madame Montessori has achieved in the way of minimizing\nobedience and discipline with advantage to education is almost\nmiraculous.\n\n[17] There was a provision for suits _in forma pauperis_, but for\nvarious reasons this provision was nearly useless; a new and somewhat\nbetter provision has recently been made, but is still very far from\nsatisfactory.\n\n[18] The following letter (_New Statesman_, December 4, 1915)\nillustrates the nature of his activities:\u2014\n\n\nDIVORCE AND WAR.\n\n_To the Editor of the_ \u201cNew Statesman.\u201d\n\nSIR,\u2014The following episodes may be of interest to your readers. Under\nthe new facilities for divorce offered to the London poor, a poor woman\nrecently obtained a decree _nisi_ for divorce against her husband,\nwho had often covered her body with bruises, infected her with a\ndangerous disease, and committed bigamy. By this bigamous marriage\nthe husband had ten illegitimate children. In order to prevent this\ndecree being made absolute, the Treasury spent at least \u00a3200 of the\ntaxes in briefing a leading counsel and an eminent junior counsel and\nin bringing about ten witnesses from a city a hundred miles away to\nprove that this woman had committed casual acts of adultery in 1895\nand 1898. The net result is that this woman will probably be forced by\ndestitution into further adultery, and that the husband will be able\nto treat his mistress exactly as he treated his wife, with impunity,\nso far as disease is concerned. In nearly every other civilized\ncountry the marriage would have been dissolved, the children could\nhave been legitimated by subsequent marriage, and the lawyers employed\nby the Treasury would not have earned the large fees they did from\nthe community for an achievement which seems to most other lawyers\nthoroughly anti-social in its effects. If any lawyers really feel that\nsociety is benefited by this sort of litigation, why cannot they give\ntheir services for nothing, like the lawyers who assisted the wife? If\nwe are to practise economy in war-time, why cannot the King\u2019s Proctor\nbe satisfied with a junior counsel only? The fact remains that many\npersons situated like the husband and wife in question prefer to avoid\nhaving illegitimate children, and the birth-rate accordingly suffers.\n\nThe other episode is this. A divorce was obtained by Mr. A. against\nMrs. A. and Mr. B. Mr. B. was married and Mrs. B., on hearing of the\ndivorce proceedings, obtained a decree nisi against Mr. B. Mr. B. is at\nany moment liable to be called to the Front, but Mrs. B. has for some\nmonths declined to make the decree _nisi_ absolute, and this prevents\nhim marrying Mrs. A., as he feels in honor bound to do. Yet the law\nallows any petitioner, male or female, to obtain a decree _nisi_ and\nto refrain from making it absolute for motives which are probably\ndiscreditable. The Divorce Law Commissioners strongly condemned this\nstate of things, and the hardship in question is immensely aggravated\nin war-time, just as the war has given rise to many cases of bigamy\nowing to the chivalrous desire of our soldiers to obtain for the _de\nfacto_ wife and family the separation allowance of the State. The legal\nwife is often united by similar ties to another man. I commend these\nfacts to consideration in your columns, having regard to your frequent\ncomplaints of a falling birth-rate. The iniquity of our marriage laws\nis an important contributory cause to the fall in question.\n\n        Yours, etc.,\n            E.\u00a0S.\u00a0P. HAYNES.\n\n_November 29th._\n\n[19] Some interesting facts were given by Mr. Sidney Webb in two\nletters to _The Times_, October 11 and 16, 1906; there is also a Fabian\ntract on the subject: \u201cThe Decline in the Birth-Rate,\u201d by Sidney Webb\n(No. 131). Some further information may be found in \u201cThe Declining\nBirth-Rate: Its National and International Significance,\u201d by A.\nNewsholme, M.D., M.R.C.S. (Cassell, 1911).\n\n[20] The fall in the death-rate, and especially in the infant\nmortality, which has occurred concurrently with the fall in the\nbirth-rate, has hitherto been sufficiently great to allow the\npopulation of Great Britain to go on increasing. But there are obvious\nlimits to the fall of the death-rate, whereas the birth-rate might\neasily fall to a point which would make an actual diminution of numbers\nunavoidable.\n\n[21] I should add artists but for the fact that most modern artists\nseem to find much greater difficulty in creation than men of science\nusually find.\n\n\n\n\nTranscriber\u2019s Notes\n\n\nPunctuation and spelling were made consistent when a predominant\npreference was found in this book; otherwise they were not changed.\n\nSimple typographical errors were corrected.\n\nAmbiguous hyphens at the ends of lines were retained; occurrences of\ninconsistent hyphenation have not been changed.\n\nDuplicate hemi-title removed just before first chapter.","title":"Why Men Fight: A method of abolishing the international duel","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":55582}