WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE HENRY RUTGERS MARSHALL WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE OTHER BOOKS BY HENRY RUTGERS MARSHALL Pain, Pleasure and Aesthetics Aesthetic Principles Instinct and Reason Consciousness WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE A STUDY OF THOSE CHARACTERISTICS OF MAN THAT RESULT IN WAR, AND OF THE MEANS BY WHICH THEY MAY BE CONTROLLED BY HENRY RUTGERS MARSHALL, L.H.D.,D.S. c^^t LONDON T. FISHER UNWIN, Ltd. ADELPHI TERRACE TO THE MEMORY OF MY BELOVED FRIEND JAMES GREENLEAF CROSWELL PREFACE IN these days of international strife a wide- spread emotional reaction has for the mo- ment swept us all from our intellectual bear- ings ; but as this storm of feeling begins to spend its force, thoughtful people must neces- sarily be led to look for the lessons to be learned from the untoward events that now so fully compel our attention. Certain problems thus brought to our no- tice are of far reaching import to all of us in relation to our whole attitude towards life; and, as I find in my experience as a lecturer, are of deep interest to many thoughtful peo- ple who have had no time or opportunity to prepare themselves for the study of philo- sophical writings dealing with such subjects. I have therefore attempted in this small book to examine some of these problems, and to suggest the solutions of them to which I have been led, in a manner that is as free as possible from the technicalities usually met with in their discussion. The technical reader will, I trust, be ready to overlook such inad- equacies of statement as he may discover, and will turn to the fuller treatment of the sub- jects considered in my already published works, to which I refer from time to time. CONTENTS CHAPTER FA6B I INTRODUCTION 1 PARTI THE BASIC PROBLEMS II NATURAL LAW, AND CREATIVENESS . 21 III IDEALS AND OUR ATTITUDE TOWARDS THEM 50 PART II THE SPECIAL PROBLEMS IV THE LAW OF STRIFE AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE 95 V THE MORAL AND RELIGIOUS ISSUES . 140 VI OUR RESPONSIBILITY AND DUTY . 185 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE War and the Ideal of Peace CHAPTER I INTRODUCTION IN the great world war that compels the attention of all thinking people to-day, we have an example of those stubborn facts of life that, now and again, force upon our no- tice certain problems which if answered in one way yield hope and courage, if in an- other yield pessimism and despair. Very many of the best men and women of our time have for years been living in the hope that in the century that has just dawned we were to see the beginnings, at least, of an era of enduring peace among the nations of the earth most advanced in civilisation. But this hope has suddenly received a rude and crushing blow. We have, with scarcely a warning, seen the great powers of Europe launched into the most terrible of all wars; and this while all the nations involved have i 2 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE been proclaiming their sincere desire to main- tain peace. We seem to see them carried for- ward to this catastrophe by forces quite be- yond intelligent control; and we are led to listen to those who would tell us that war is the resultant of an inexorable law of Nature by which man is governed; who argue that, acting in accord with this law, man must fight with man for dominance ; that therefore wars must from time to time occur ; and hence that our ideal of perpetual peace is an idle dream. Those of us who have clung to this ideal of peace are thus led by the present crisis to ask whether this argument is a valid one, and whether there are sufficient grounds to war- rant such a conclusion. When, however, we turn our thought seri- ously in this direction we at once find our- selves compelled to consider a much more fundamental question, which indeed is not in- frequently raised by lesser misfortunes the grave question whether in reality we men and women can influence the course of natural events by what we call our spontaneity; whether we really have any creative powers ; whether we are not rather merely parts of a INTRODUCTION 8 huge machine governed by inexorable natural law? And these questions lead us further to ask what we actually mean when we speak glibly, as we do, of this creative spontaneity which we so hate to have discredited, and which is bound up with our ideal of full individual- ity ; and again to queries as to the significance of our ideals in general, and as to their rela- tions to morality, religion, and responsibility. Evidently the special problem which leads to these broader questionings cannot be solved unless we gain clear conceptions in re- lation to the more general problems thus re- ferred to. In my view a very large part of the current discussion of the special subject we are to consider is bound to fail of profitable result, and a large proportion of the suggestions as to modes of action to be undertaken in the present emergency are all too likely to prove futile, just because we fail to keep in mind these fundamental concep- tions, and their proper interpretation. For this reason I shall ask the reader to make with me, in the two chapters to follow, a study of certain data that, in my view, must 4 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE be kept clear in our thought if we are to reach any adequate views as to the nature of war, and the possibility of peace. In our second chapter we shall inquire into the real meaning to be attached to the conception of inexorable natural law, of which the hypo- thetical law that results in war is supposed to be a special example; and in our third chapter we shall consider the nature of ideals in general, of which we have a special in- stance in the ideal of peace. In Part II we shall attempt to apply the results thus reached to the special problems that interest us so fully at the present time. I am thus deliberately asking the reader to begin by laying aside those disturbing thoughts that tend to fill our minds to-day. It may not be easy to do so ; but it will serve a double purpose : it will put us into the way of dealing calmly with the problems we are finally to study; and, as will presently ap- pear, it will lead us to certain results that are not only vital to the solution of these prob- lems, but also interesting and important in themselves. Those of my readers whose time or pa- INTRODUCTION 5 tience is limited, and who are willing to take for granted certain steps in the argument to be presented, may turn at once to the sec- ond chapter, where we shall study the mean- ing to be attached to what we call the laws of Nature. Before doing so, however, some among them, who are less busy and more pa- tient, may be interested to consider with me a few points which do not at first sight ap- pear to be related to our subject, but which are in fact thus related, and are at the same time of very far-reaching importance. Assuming that such an one does open this book, and reads thus far, I shall ask him, odd as it may appear, to consider in the briefest possible manner certain implications of the very fact that he is a conscious being, and that he recognises himself to be one of many such conscious beings.* The study of what is known as compara- tive psychology has emphasised in our thought the fact that we attribute conscious- ness to animals by the interpretation of their behaviour in terms of our own conscious ex- * For a full study of this subject confer my "Conscious- ness," Chapters vi and vii. 6 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE perience. This fact which none will dispute calls our attention, however, to another that is equally indisputable but very generally overlooked; viz., that each of us uses this same mode of interpretation in attributing consciousness to his fellow-men, who are themselves animals displaying behaviour. If at this moment you happened to see me take a drink of water you would think, "He is thirsty"; and this merely because the ex- perience of thirst leads in your own case to behaviour of a similar kind. The ordinary man, to be sure, is inclined to say, "I of course do judge in that way in many cases ; but I surely know of your conscious states much more directly; for, if I asked you, you would tell me you were thirsty. ' ' But, when one comes to think of it, one will see that even here we are dealing entirely with the per- sonal interpretation of behaviour. For speech is a mode of behaviour; and its in- terpretation differs from that applied to the animals mainly in the fact that in the one case we deal with sounds, and in the other with sights. I say "yes" ; and I hear myself say- ing it ; and I also have in experience what I INTRODUCTION 7 call the feeling of assent. "When you say "yes," I hear the same sound that I heard from my own lips a moment ago ; and I as- sume that you experience a feeling of as- sent similar to the one I experienced. We overlook this fact, that we know other con- sciousnesses only by an analogical interpre- tation of behaviour, because we have been thinking in this way ever since we were born, having found that the assumption of the ex- istence of conscious states in our friends and neighbours works effectively in every-day life. When we consider the nature of this mode of interpretation of behaviour we discover that we actually carry it much further than we do in attributing consciousness to animals more or less like the human animal; and we then come to see that there is no sound rea- son for the usual limitation of this inter- pretation, and that if we carry it out logically we have no ground whatever for refusing to grant some form of mental life to the lowest of animal forms; no, nor even some type of dim mentality to the plants. In fact, were this the appropriate place, it would be pos- 8 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE sible to show that we have no logical basis for failure to grant that some form of psychic existence corresponds with each and every type of behaviour. And when we have taken this step we find ourselves forced in consistency to go still farther ; forced to look upon all the activities within the Universe as correspondents of some psychic form. This is a view that many philosophers of the past have found themselves led to up- hold, although they have had much less rea- son for doing so than we who have gained a deeper insight in regard to the cor- relations of biology and psychology. Ap- proaching the subject from a standpoint quite different from the one here suggested, Professor Josiah Eoyce* has of late ex- pressed this view as follows : "We have no right whatever to speak of really unconscious Nature, but only of un- communicative Nature, or of Nature whose mental processes go on at such different time rates from ours that we cannot adjust ourselves to a live appreciation of their in- ward fluency, although our consciousness "The World and the Individual" ii, pp. 225 ff. INTRODUCTION 9 does make us aware of their presence. My hypothesis is that, in case of Nature in gen- eral, as in the case of the particular portions of Nature known as our fellow-men, we are dealing with phenomena of a vast conscious process, whose relation to time varies vastly, but whose general characteristics are throughout the same. . . . The processes, in case of so-called inorganic matter, are very remote from us; while in the case of the processes which appear to us as the expressive movements of the bodies of our human fellows they are so near to our own inner processes that we understand what they mean. I suppose then that when you deal with Nature you deal with a vast realm of finite consciousness of which your own is at once a part and an example." This conception throws a flood of light upon many problems in relation to our conscious life, to some of which I shall refer later. Here I would merely fix attention upon this one important implication of this view, viz., that if we are justified in the attribution of mental life to other beings than ourselves, as we surely are, then we are logically forced to an 10 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE extension of this mode of interpretation to cover all behaviour. And such extension compels us to see that it is impossible to gain an adequate view of Nature without taking into consideration the idea that the charac- teristic which we recognise in our lives as consciousness is but a special form of a broader psychic characteristic that is pervas- ive of the whole Universe. This means that if we undertake to inter- pret the Universe in the manner that is com- mon among ordinary men, and that is made accurate in what is known as Science, we find our interpretation incomplete unless we also seek an interpretation in terms of mentality ; or, to put it in other words, To the Universe must be given a psychic, as well as a natural- istic, interpretation. What is meant by the phrase " naturalistic interpretation" is of course clear enough to all. It is such an interpretation as is gained by studying objects in Nature, and their re- lations to one another, as the man of science does. What I call the psychic interpretation of INTRODUCTION 11 the Universe is usually spoken of as the spir- itual interpretation. I prefer to use the phrase " psychic interpretation" because the word "spiritual," in the course of its usage, has acquired many mystic and religious con- notations which tend to lead our thought astray. What we call our spiritual life is more or less mysterious, and is what we think of as the noblest part of our experience. Consequently, when we contrast anything that we call spiritual with something else, a measure of inferiority or indignity becomes attached to this something else. When, then, we speak of the spiritual interpretation of the Universe as contradistinguished from the naturalistic interpretation, the spiritual in- terpretation gains nobility and the natural- istic interpretation comes to be considered relatively ignoble. But there is really no foundation for such a notion. The naturalistic and the psychic interpretations of the Universe have an equal dignity. This I shall ask the reader to bear in mind; for in what follows I shall call his attention to certain bits of this interpreta- 12 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE tion naturalistic and psychic that have a very definite bearing upon the problems we are undertaking to study. I have thus reached the main conclusion to which I would direct the reader's attention in this introductory chapter; but as we shall have a good deal to say in what follows of the relation between our instinctive reactions and our ideals which are appreciated in in- telligence, it seems well here to refer briefly to the distinction that is commonly made be- tween instinct and intelligence.* The study of the interpretation of behav- iour to which I have above referred leaves us firmly convinced that psychic existence is fundamentally of the same nature through * For a full study of this subject, confer my "Instinct and Reason," and an article entitled "The Relation of In- stinct and Intelligence" published in the British Journal of Psychology, November, 1912. Here, and in what follows, I shall use the term instinct, as it is employed in common speech, to refer to relatively definite forms of activity; that are, or have been, advantageous to the individual or the species; that are due to inherited capacities; and that occur, upon the appearance of the appropriate stimulus, without recognised intelligent initiative. In my view all of our reactions are of the instinct-action type; so that the restriction of the term instinct, as suggested by Lloyd Morgan, to the description of reactions that have in no way been modified by experience (even were this possible) would seem to be uncalled for. INTRODUCTION 13 and through ; and this carries with it the con- viction that human consciousness, as part of psychic existence, is also fundamentally of the same nature through and through. But the every-day distinction between in- stinct and intelligence is usually thought to imply the existence of two diverse types of consciousness. This is doubtless because we dimly appreciate that instead of contrasting instinct with intelligence, as we usually do, we should properly contrast instinctive acts with intelligent acts on the one hand, and ' ' instinct consciousness ' ' with intelligence on the other hand. But this "instinct consciousness" is commonly spoken of as intuition,* and we thus find ourselves dealing with the common distinction between intuition and intelligence. Intelligence is evidenced in the devising of ends, and of means to the attainment of these ends. Intuition, on the other hand, appears as a guide which points directly to a path which intelligence cannot, or at least does not, disclose. The fact just noted that our intuitions are *Bergson frequently refers to intuition as "instinct con- sciousness." 14 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE bound up with our instinctive life leads us to see that we are likely to find the basis of the distinction between intuition and intel- ligence if we consider the basis of the distinc- tion between instinctive acts and intelligent acts; and this latter is at once clear. Our instinctive acts are of types that have proven effective in the long run to our fore- bears : they thus tell of the experience of long lines of ancestry in the past. Our intelligent acts, on the other hand, although fundamen- tally of the same nature, tell of attempts to adjust ourselves to present conditions; they are experimental. The distinction between intuition and in- telligence, then, is just this: intuition, being an instinctive experience, tells of the past; intelligence tells of the present. But in each moment of our conscious experience there exist both this reference to the past and this reference to the present need. In other words, in each bit of experience there is something of the nature of intuition, and also something of the nature of intelligence. When the reference to the past is so em- phatic that the reference to the present sinks INTRODUCTION 15 into insignificance, our experience is one that we describe as an intuition. When the refer- ence to the present is so emphatic that the reference to the past sinks into insignificance, our experience is one that we describe as an act of intelligence. It becomes evident, then, that intuition and intelligence are of equal importance in ex- perience. We cannot hope to lead effective lives unless we give heed to the advice given by our ancestors in the intuitions they have bequeathed to us: our intuitions point to the probable safe course of action. But, on the other hand, we cannot hope to live effective lives unless we employ our intelligence to guide us in attempts to adapt ourselves to new conditions in which we may be placed; although we must be ready to face the fact that our intelligence urges us to experiment, which is always hazardous, and may well be futile. It happens not seldom in our lives that the suggestions of intelligence contradict and op- pose the guidance of intuition. How shall we proceed in such a case? It surely will not do to cast aside the intuitional guidance of 16 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE the past as worthless; we must listen to it. But we as surely are not justified in refusing to listen to the voice of reason ; for in follow- ing it we have our only hope of realising a more perfect adjustment to new conditions that now exist. Our proper course would appear to be to give close attention to all that our intuitions have to tell us, restraining our tendency to rush forward rashly in the direc- tions suggested by intelligence; but, on the other hand, to follow bravely the dictates of reason where we find ourselves finally con- vinced, acknowledging that we are trying an experiment looking to a more perfect adjust- ment of our lives to the conditions that sur- round us, and courageously facing the risk of failure that is involved.* When we recall the fact that our intuitions are experiences of " instinct consciousness," the relation to our future studies of this * Evidently, then, intuition and intelligence are of equal significance in our lives; and if this is true, it surely is folly to adopt a philosophy which overlooks the signifi- cance of intuition in its worship of reason. It was against such a philosophy that William James poured out the vials of his wrath. But just as surely, on the other hand, should we pause before we adopt a philosophy which lays stress only upon the significance of intuition, and gives but a subordinate and even obstructive r61e to intelligence, as does Bergson our modern mystic. INTRODUCTION 17 brief consideration of the relation of intui- tion to intelligence will be apparent. For one of the questions we shall have to consider is the relation of instinctive action to intelligent action; the former being exemplified in the reactions due to man's inherited traits in gen- eral, and to his instinctive warlike activ- ities in particular; the latter being exempli- fied in the activities due to the cherishing of our ideals in general and of our ideal of peace in particular. Let us now review briefly the steps we have thus far taken, and note their import. We are eventually to inquire whether it is true that the periodic recurrence of war is inevitable because we are swayed by forces of Nature that are quite beyond our control. We have seen that we cannot answer this question until we have gained a clear notion of what we really mean when we speak of these "laws of Nature," one of which is said to result in man's warlike behaviour. This has led us to consider briefly the proper mode of interpreting Nature ; and we have reached some results that will be found to have bear- 18 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE ing upon many of the points to be considered later. We have discovered ground, for in- stance, for holding that special and definite types of behaviour necessarily involve cor- responding special and definite types of men- tality, and vice versa. But it is the final result that will be found most helpful to us at the moment. We have been led to see that the proper comprehen- sion of the Universe involves both a psychic and a naturalistic interpretation of Nature. This indicates that, when in our next chapter we ask ourselves what we mean by the laws of Nature, we shall be unable to overlook the fact that these so-called natural laws involve what we may call psychic laws. This very evidently has great significance in relation to our inquiry; for if, in our attempt to dis- cover the true meaning to be attributed to these laws of Nature, we find any bit of our experience that is necessarily bound up with these laws, then we may hope that a study of this bit of experience will lead us to a more accurate interpretation of them than might otherwise be possible. PART I THE BASIC PROBLEMS CHAPTER II NATURAL LAW, AND CKEATIVENESS WE have undertaken to consider what truth there is in the assertion of those who tell us that the occasional recurrence of wars must be looked upon as inevitable because man is governed by certain inexorable laws of Na- ture which make war necessary, and even salutary; for war, we are told, is caused by the automatic expression of inherited in- stincts, which expression is a natural law of man's being. We have seen, however, that we cannot hope to reach any just conclusion in this matter unless we keep before our minds a clear conception of the proper mean- ing to be attributed to the phrase "laws of Nature"; and to this subject we shall now turn our thought. In the preceding chapter we gave reasons for holding that we cannot properly compre- 21 22 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE hend the Universe unless we give it, not only the interpretation gained by science which is commonly spoken of as a naturalistic in- terpretation, but also that interpretation gained by the psychologist and philosopher which I have spoken of as a psychic interpre- tation. This being the case, we noted that in undertaking to inquire what we mean by the laws of Nature, which is our present task, we shall be unable to overlook the fact that these so-called natural laws involve what we may call psychic laws. And this evidently has great significance in relation to our present inquiry; for, as we there also noted, if, in our attempt to discover the true mean- ing to be attributed to the laws of Nature of which we have an example in the hypo- thetical natural law that leads to war, we find any bit of our experience that is bound up with these laws of Nature, then we may hope that a study of this bit of experience will lead us to a significant interpretation of these laws. To the consideration of one such bit of ex- perience I shall then turn the reader's atten- tion without apology. NATURAL LAW, AND CREATIVENESS 23 When we study our personal experience as a whole with care, we note one very interest- ing characteristic of that part of it that comes well within the field of what the psy- chologists call clear awareness. There we find what we describe as a sense of our own personal spontaneity, of our own creative- ness, of the making of what is new by our own efficiency. We feel that we ourselves indulge in creative imaginations; that we make for ourselves, by what we call our own volition, ends and purposes; that we, by this same voluntary process, devise means looking to the realisation of these ends and purposes; and that in all this we ourselves are creators. And the appreciation of this sense of our own creative spontaneity goes far beyond this. For in connection with our intuitions, our so-called "inspirations," our inventive and artistic impulsions, all of which rise out of the psychic field of non-awareness com- monly called the field of "subconsciousness," we have our fullest experience of this creative spontaneity. Now the study of objective nature by the 24 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE man of science, who takes what we call the naturalistic view, constantly forces upon us the question whether, after all, this sense of creative spontaneity may not be an illusion. Are we individual men and women not really parts of a great machine that we call Nature I Are we not really governed by the inexorable laws which determine the activities of this great machine ? Is it not folly to assume that this psychic life of ours is efficient in any way in relation to the action of this great machine? Are we not rather subject solely to mechanical laws, as is claimed by many of those who nowadays uphold what is called the mechanistic conception of life viewed as part of Nature I These are questions which on their face seem to the ordinary man too difficult for him. But surely we all ought to make at least some attempt to answer them; for we are constantly, of our own volition, choosing to deal with situations that lead us to ask these very questions. We find our- selves tempted to think that we are mere creatures of circumstance and environment; NATURAL LAW, AND CREATIVENESS 25 that we are mainly, if not wholly, what we are because of the hereditary traits that were given to us, and for which we cannot be held responsible. And we are thus at times led to adopt a fatalistic attitude, and to be- come pessimistic or cynical: to think that effort is futile, and perhaps that life is scarcely worth living. It usually happens that those who allow themselves to think in this way, stop just there. But I submit that if we voluntarily indulge ourselves in thoughts which raise such questions, as most of us certainly do more or less frequently, then we are bound to be will- ing to make a considerable effort to look for the true answers to them. So I shall here ask even the hesitant reader to try to think this subject through with me. In dealing with such problems we find our- selves constantly thrown back to the study of our individual experience; and I therefore suggest that we begin our study with an in- quiry concerning terms, asking what it means to be an individual. When we think of an individual of any 26 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE kind, whatever else we may have in mind, we certainly do not conceive of something that is isolated. We cannot describe an individual without implying that it is part and parcel of some kind of system. An individual and some kind of system are necessary correla- tives. The individual is, for instance, an in- dividual rock, or an individual drop of water, or an individual plant, or an individual hu- man being, or an individual consciousness. Furthermore, an individual cannot remain an individual in a system unless it displays the characteristics of that system. That is to say, an individual is an entity in which the characteristics of a given system are exem- plified ; and if it does not display these char- acteristics it changes its individuality. I am now an individual living man, because I dis- play the characteristics of living men; but were I struck dead this instant I should no longer be an individual man, but an individ- ual in another system; that is, a system of non-living things; and this because, in such a case, I should display the characteristics of non-living tissue, and not those of living men. We may then make this as our first point : NATURAL LAW, AND CREATIVENESS 27 An Individual exists as such because it ex- emplifies the characteristics of the system in which it is an individual. Now when these characteristics of a sys- tem are carefully formulated we call them laws of that system. Thus chemical laws in- dicate distinctive characteristics of chemical systems; physical laws indicate distinctive characteristics of physical systems; biolog- ical laws indicate distinctive characteristics of living beings ; psychological laws indicate distinctive characteristics of consciousness; natural laws indicate distinctive characteris- tics of Nature. So we may substitute the word ' ' laws ' ' for the word ' ' characteristics ' ' in the statement just made, which then reads : An Individual exists as such because it ex- emplifies the laws of the system in which it is an individual. This leads us to see at once that when we speak of an individual of any kind as being "governed by" laws of any kind, we mean no more than that the individual shows itself to be included in a system whose character- istics are statable in terms of these laws. Were the individual not governed, as we say, 28 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE by these laws it would be because it was no longer an individual in the particular system in which these laws obtain. An Individual thing is "governed by" special laws in so far as it belongs to a spe- cial system whose characteristics it exem- plifies. This being granted, it again becomes clear that when we hear it said that an indi- vidual man is governed by natural laws, all that is meant is that he is part and parcel of Nature, as we comprehend it; and that if he were not governed, as we say, by these laws he would not show the characteristics of Nature, and would not remain an individual in the system we describe by that name. An Individual Man is "governed by" natural laws so far as he belongs to Nature, whose characteristics he exemplifies. What we mean, then, by saying that we have come to believe that we, as individual men or women, are governed by natural laws is nothing more than the statement of our conviction that we are part and parcel of Nature. Now I, for one, am not only content to NATURAL LAW, AND CREATIVENESS 9 hold such a view, but I find it inspiring. It would be distinctly depressing, it seems to me, were I compelled to think of myself as an isolated waif in this vast Universe which we describe as Nature. But, on the contrary, I find intense satisfaction in being able to think of myself as part and parcel of Nature ; on the one hand guided by it, so to speak; but, on the other hand, having my small part in making it what it is. For if I am part of Nature, then the characteristics that make Nature what it is must include my character- istics. And now the relevancy to our present in- quiry of the subject with which we started begins to appear; for if it is true that the characteristics that make Nature what it is must include my characteristics, it is also true that among these characteristics is found my consciousness. And this conscious- ness is inclusive of the sense of my own crea- tive spontaneity, which we have found to be so marked a characteristic of our experience. So we see that we cannot properly compre- hend Nature unless we include in our thought 30 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE an interpretation of this sense of our own creative spontaneity. The interpretation of Nature must include the interpretation of our own Sense of Crea- tiveness. Surely we have here a practical result of this mode of thought, showing it to have been quite worth while to cope with such difficulty as it entails. Not a few people look with something like terror upon the notion that they are altogether governed by natural laws ; and become pessimistic because they think of themselves as slaves to these laws. But evi- dently if we take the view just considered there is no real basis for this terror, or for this pessimistic attitude. For what we call laws of Nature appear to be merely descrip- tive terms, referring to characteristics ob- served in Nature. If the observed character- istics change then the laws change. So we see that we are not slaves to laws of Nature that are external to us ; but rather are ourselves exemplars of these laws which our own activities go to make definitive. This, then, is the first point I would em- phasise. NATURAL LAW, AND CREATIVENESS 31 But we cannot overlook the fact that the cynic still remains with us, who thinking of himself as moved by irresistible fate looks upon all this as the product of our imagina- tion. He is likely to say to us, "Even if you have shown that, instead of being slaves to natural laws, we are really exemplifications of these laws, you have not gone very far. You have not shown us that our sense of cre- ative spontaneity, which would seem to give us something to say as to the nature of things, is not an illusion. You cannot prove this un- less you can show that this sense of creative- ness of ours is indicative of a real efficient guidance of Nature's development." This is an objection that we must meet; and in order to do so I shall ask the reader to turn to a subject which again may appear to be unrelated to what we have already con- sidered, but which in the end will be found to be involved with it. The very earliest of men have had their attention attracted by the sudden appear- ance in their world of what is new for them, and have looked to the objective world for the cause which yielded this newness. The 32 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE process which results in this newness we may call physical creativeness ; for physical crea- tiveness means nothing other than this. Again, from the earliest days men have wondered at, and have attempted to account for, the variety of objects in Nature. And this inquisitiveness has quite naturally been especially aroused in regard to the vari- eties in forms of life. How have these come into existence? they have asked. Our immediate ancestors answered this question in a manner familiar to us. For most educated people of our type in the last generation believed as they had been taught, and as their progenitors had believed before them, that these diversities in natural forms were due to the special acts of God described in the book of Genesis: it being held that He created these diverse forms in the course of six days, and then ceased from His la- bours ; and that since these original creative acts these diverse forms had remained fixed. Modern science commonly asks us to look upon this conception with contempt; for re- corded astronomical and other changes, and NATURAL LAW, AND CREATIVENESS S3 geological and paleontological discoveries in- dicating alterations of living forms, have shown us conclusively that this conception of creation as given in Genesis is not sound. It has been found, as we all know, that these varieties in diverse forms of living beings in our world can be accounted for by the occur- rence of changes in diverse directions in de- scendants of a common ancestry; and it is very generally assumed that these modes of evolution of diverse forms of life are merely typical, and are indicative of a general pro- cess of evolution which accounts for all the diversities in Nature. This has led to the development of an hypothesis in accord with which the Universe is conceived of as something akin to a vast clock-like machine, that was once upon a time wound up, so to speak, and is now in process of running down; and it is held that all the varied forms found in this Universe are the results of the redistributions of energy oc- curring in the course of this process of run- ning down. It is thus held that, in our study of the evo- lution of diverse forms, we do not need to 34 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE deal with a creative process at all; and we are tacitly asked to discard the whole concep- tion of physical creativeness, and with it of course the conception of our own mental crea- tiveness as observed in our volitional and other experiences. But it is to be noted that this hypothesis actually does assume one moment at least when such a physical creativeness appeared; for if we really wish to comprehend Nature fully we must ask what causal process is be- hind these redistributions of energy. And when we consider this question we discover that, according to the hypothesis under con- sideration, this huge clock-like machine was at some time in the past wound up. Or, to put the matter less colloquially, it is assumed that there was at some moment in the indefinite past a primal stirring up of an homogeneity, to use Herbert Spencer's terminology, or what we may speak of as a primal ebullition of energy, which started the redistributions of energy observable in our world; and that to this primal fact we must look for the cause of all the varieties in our world as we find it. Thus it appears that, after all, there is NATURAL LAW, AND CREATIVENESS 35 little excuse for the scientist's disdain in dealing with the scriptural account of the origin of varieties which, with many other similar accounts devised by other early thinkers than the Hebrews, is now relegated to the realm of poetry. For both the modern scientists' own view, as well as the one they reject, agree in limiting the physical creative- ness to some moment in the past, but within some finite time, after which moment it ceased to exist as such. A similar "once- f or-all-ness " is expressed, or implied, by Bergson in his account of creativeness : but the close scrutiny to which the doctrines of this talented philosopher have been subjected has brought to light no little difficulty in the acceptance of this particular notion. All this leads us to ask whether no other hypothesis is available; and when we turn our thought in this direction we perceive at once that there is another possible hypothesis which meets the facts equally well, and which on its face seems more likely to be true than the hypothesis that this physical creative- ness was given once for all, and that since the initial moment it has gained no increment. 36 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE This other hypothesis I have elsewhere* put somewhat as follows. Instead of assuming a moment of creativeness too far back in time to be denned, it certainly seems more reason- able to assume that this physical creativeness always has been, and now is, operative throughout the whole of Nature ; but that its results are so minute in any particular mo- ment that they are likely to escape our ob- servation, and are usually only discoverable when we take into consideration long periods of time, as we do when we study the geologi- cal record and note the continuous develop- ment of living forms, as Darwin did.f But it is to be noted that if evidence of such physical creativeness did appear in animal organisms, this evidence of its exist- ence would surely be looked for in connection * Address printed in the British Journal of Psychology, November, 1912. f This difficulty of observation may be due in part to the minuteness of the effects of this creative process, and to the crudeness of our modes of observation; but it may also be due in large part to the fact that the objects observed are systems of minor systems in which latter the functioning of this creative process is, with more or less completeness, mutually inhibited. In inorganic bodies these mutual inhibitions within correlated systems may be supposed to be relatively fixed; and this may be taken to account for the fact that in the inorganic world evidences of this cre- ative process are especially difficult to discern. Organic NATURAL LAW, AND CREATIVENESS 37 with modifications of the typical activities of animals. And such modifications of typical reactions in individual animals we do con- stantly observe in what we know as accom- modations to changes in the animal's sur- roundings, and in what we speak of as "learning by experience," using this phrase altogether objectively as relating to observ- able changes in the animal's habits of action. We see this in the altered reactions of the wild animal that is tamed; in the tricks we teach to our pet dogs. And the modern biologist tells us that these characteristics are observable even in the very lowest forms of animal life, which until lately had been thought to be incapable of such " learning by experience." But we men and women are living animal bodies, on the other hand, may be supposed to be in a state of relatively unstable equilibrium, so that in them the mutual inhibitions of this creative process within corre- lated systems are less fixed than is the case in inorganic bodies. This may be taken to account for the fact that in connection with organic bodies facts are commonly observed which may be held to be results of this creative process- facts that have led to the adoption of the unsatisfying theory of the vitalists which assumes, in opposition to the hypothesis here suggested, the existence in them of some "vital principle" or "entelechy" (Driesch) which acts in a manner wholly different from anything known in the inor- ganic world. 38 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE individuals; and in us, as in all animals, there appear, as we all know, many modifi- cations of typical activities in our attempts to adjust ourselves to the changing condi- tions of our environment. Peary when he went to the North Pole changed his habits of action. Eoosevelt when he explored the tropical regions changed his habits in an en- tirely different manner. In fact, men are more capable than any other animals of "learning by experience" and of accommodating them- selves to their surroundings. We men and women thus show very mark- edly in our own lives the modification of the typical actions which we have seen to be in- dicative of what I have called physical crea- tiveness. All this we discover by the study of Na- ture without any reference whatever to cor- relatives in consciousness. But it is a very significant fact in this connection that these adaptations of our own conduct to meet spe- cial situations, which, when looked at objec- tively as the biologist views them, are modifi- cations of typical activities and "learning by experience," are in our own case accompa- NATURAL LAW, AND CREATIVENESS 39 nied by what, in a subjective view, we call in- telligence. We feel that we act intelligently when we, like Peary and Roosevelt, adapt our habits to meet new climatic conditions, and when we "learn by experience," let us say, to handle carefully a coffee-pot by which we have once been burned. This leads us to note that it is in connec- tion with these activities of intelligence that we find the most distinct sense which I have called our sense of creative spontaneity, and of which I have said so much in the earlier part of this chapter. We feel that we are active agents in the making of certain ends and purposes which involve these modifica- tions of typical activities, and in the actual production of these modifications themselves. We, for instance, get into our heads, as we say, some notion of what we call politeness, and we ourselves modify the typical reactions that would lead us to grasp food greedily when we are very hungry, as the dog does. Certain conclusions from all this are in- evitable. In the first place we see that this sense of our own creative spontaneity corre- sponds with what we have found to be justly 40 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE described as a physical creativeness exhibited in the modification of typical bodily activ- ities. In the second place, we note that, inasmuch as this sense of creative spontaneity is, as we have seen, found in all of consciousness so far as we can study it in reflection, it must be held that this creative spontaneity belongs to all of human consciousness, and that the corresponding physical creativeness belongs to all those activities of our living bodies which correspond with this consciousness. And now I would remind the reader of the broad nature of consciousness which we con- sidered in our introductory chapter, where we saw that as a logical extension of our habitual mode of attribution of consciousness to animals by the interpretation of animal behaviour, we are not only forced to grant some form of consciousness to all forms of living matter, but are also compelled to look upon the Universe as itself pulsating with psychic life. And I would ask him to con- sider a conclusion naturally reached from this point of view. NATURAL LAW, AND CREATIVENESS 41 The scientist who studies Nature tells us that our bodily activities are part of the ac- tivities of the physical Universe all of which are fundamentally of the same nature. If then some form of consciousness, some type of mentality, corresponds with all these activ- ities of the physical Universe; and if con- sciousness, as we appreciate it, always has in it this creative spontaneity, which is paral- leled by a physical creativeness in the bodily activities that correspond with the conscious- ness ; then very evidently the presumption is that the whole Universe is replete with this creativeness, physical and mental; and that, in our observation of Nature, we do not see plain evidence of this fact merely because of our blindness, or short-sightedness. We are thus brought back to the position already reached by our previous study, viz., that physical creativeness always has been, and now is, operative throughout the whole of Nature, but that its results are so minute in any particular moment that they escape our observation under ordinary conditions. And we also see the real meaning of the point made in the introductory chapter that 42 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE we cannot properly comprehend the Universe unless we give it, not only a naturalistic in- terpretation, but also a psychic interpreta- tion. This conclusion is very significant in our every-day life, for it enables us to answer cer- tain of those puzzling questions, referred to above, which we find ourselves constantly raising. In the first place it breaks down once for all every ground for fatalism. For it shows us that what we appreciate as our creative spontaneity is effective; its efficiency corre- sponding with that of a physical creativeness found in connection with our activities as naturalistically considered; which physical creativeness is usually masked or altogether overlooked. In the second place this conception re- moves all the sources of discomfort so often connected in our minds with what is known as the deterministic point of view. Deter- minism is based upon the conviction that ob- servation always shows given causes yielding NATURAL LAW, AND CREATIVENESS 43 given effects ; and that if a specific cause ap- pears, a specific effect, and none other, must result. This is often taken to mean that we cannot influence the movement of things by our creativeness. But surely determinism in itself does not involve any such doctrine. It is only thought to do so because fatalism is usually considered to be necessarily involved with determinism; which is certainly not the case. Fatalism is a metaphysical doctrine that denies the existence of creative spontaneity; which determinism does not do. If the de- terminist finds evidence of the existence of this creativeness he accepts it as he accepts anything else in Nature that may be con- strued to be a cause. A determinist should be unwilling to overlook any evidence what- ever of any determinant, and if among these determinants he finds this characteristic which we call our creativeness, and which appears as the cause of observable effects, then he must treat it exactly as he treats all other causes. So it would appear that the detenninist, if he is logical, cannot be a fatal- 44 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE 1st; for if lie considers all the evidence he is bound to agree to recognise this creative spontaneity as one of the possible efficient causes in nature.* And finally we may turn to the so-called mechanistic hypothesis of which one hears so much to-day, whose adherents tell us that all our activities may be shown to be statable in terms of physical and chemical reactions; which in their turn are statable in terms of purely mechanical principles. Here again we find that the maintenance of this mechanistic hypothesis does not lead to fatalism, or to the pessimism engendered by fatalistic conceptions. For the most philosophically minded among our biologists are content to look upon this mechanistic theory merely as a good working hypothesis, as an effective tool, as a method that has practical value in biological work. * It would be altogether apart from our subject to con- sider here the relation of determinism to the problem of "free will." It will suffice to refer the reader to my "Con- sciousness," pp. 641 ff., where I have argued that one cannot hold that the self is free to act in accord with its nature unless he accepts the determinist's position; and have given an explanation of the experience of choosing between alternatives, which shows that it in no way involves a denial of the deterministic view, provided this latter is freed from the implication of fatalism which is so entirely unwarranted. NATURAL LAW, AND CREATIVENESS 45 In a late address* the distinguished biolo- gist, Dr. Edmund B. Wilson, tells us: "The scientific method is the mechanistic method. The moment we swerve from it by a single step we set foot in a foreign land where a different idiom from ours is spoken. We have, it is true, no proof of its final validity. We do not adopt the mechanistic view of or- ganic nature as a dogma but only as a prac- tical programme of work, neither more nor less." Thus also J. S. Haldane, the eminent Ox- ford physiologist, in a lately published bookf says: "Again and again mechanical theories of one sort or another have served as tempo- rary working hypotheses round which experi- mental investigation has centred in physiolo- gy;" but "as a physiologist I can see no use for the hypothesis that life, as a whole, is a mechanical process. This theory does not help me in my work; and indeed I think it now hinders very seriously the progress of physi- ology." The philosophically minded mechanistic bi- * As President of the American Association for the Ad- vancement of Science 1014. See Science, January 1, 1915. {"Mechanism, Life and Personality," pp. 60, 61. 46 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE ologist will merely say that, if this so-called creative spontaneity is an efficient cause, it must at least be acknowledged that it is very rarely evidenced in observable form ; and that he is warranted therefore in overlooking it in his investigations ; just as the astronomer, for instance, is warranted in overlooking the perturbations of the orbit of Neptune due to the existence of the relatively minute aster- oids, which cannot affect the results with which he is concerned. The fatalist denies the existence of crea- tiveness; refusing to listen to much cogent evidence in favour of this existence, of which I have given but a few details. The mechanist in biology, on the other hand, in his ordinary studies of living forms, merely agrees to overlook it; for the reason that these studies involve the concentration of his attention upon matters that in any event can seldom be affected by it. Whenever, however, the biologist does by chance note what may be taken as evidence of its existence, he is very alert at once ; as is clear when one con- siders the enormous interest excited by De Vries' experiments with his primrose NATURAL LAW, AND CREATIVENESS 47 "sports" that breed true; and by those of T. H. Morgan with his flies, in which he has noted a large number of quite new character- istics that are transmitted to the descendants of those individuals in which they appear. Let us now review briefly the results we have reached in this inquiry as to the real meaning of our conception of the inexorable laws of Nature, of which the hypothetical law that results in war is held to be a special example. We have seen that law is merely a descrip- tive term ; that the laws of a system are noth- ing more than the careful formulations of the characteristics of the system; that if the characteristics of the system change then its laws change; that when we say we are gov- erned by Nature's laws, we do not mean that we are slaves to laws extrinsic to us, but rather that we, being part and parcel of Na- ture, exemplify her characteristics. Again, we have seen that as we are thus part and parcel of Nature our characteristics must go to make Nature what she is ; that any adequate interpretation of Nature must 48 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE therefore include the interpretation of human consciousness ; and, within that consciousness, of our sense of creativeness which leads us to conceive of the possibility that we our- selves may be concerned in the making of changes in those characteristics of Nature which we call her laws. Turning then to the consideration of this conception of creativeness, we have found reason to believe that physical creativeness pervades all of Nature; although its effects are difficult to discern. We have noted that certain manifestations of this physical crea- tiveness are given in modifications of typical forms of man's behaviour; i.e., in actual changes in the characteristics of man, and hence in actual changes in Nature's char- acteristics which when formulated we call her laws. But it is in correspondence with such changes of typical forms of our own behav- iour that we appreciate that we act intelli- gently, and in connection with which we ap- preciate most distinctly the sense of our own creative spontaneity. We have therefore been led to hold that this sense of our own NATURAL LAW, AND CREATIVENESS 49 creative ability corresponds with a real crea- tiveness in Nature; and that the very exist- ence of this sense of creativeness is a proof that, at the moment of such appreciation, we are acting effectively in directions which may change these characteristics of Nature which we speak of as her laws. This study has prepared us, I think, to con- sider with some measure of clearness the validity of the contention that recurrent wars are inevitable because man is governed by in- exorable laws of Nature which compel him to contend for dominance. Before, however, we undertake to apply the results of the pres- ent study to this special question, it will be well for us to prepare ourselves in like man- ner for a proper comprehension of the real significance of our ideal of peace, by consid- ering in some detail the nature of ideals in general, of which this ideal of peace is a spe- cial example. To this subject we shall turn in our next chapter. CHAPTEE III IDEALS AND OUK ATTITUDE TOWARDS THEM HAVING considered in the preceding chapter the meaning of what we call the laws of Na- ture, one of which, it is contended, compels men to make war ; we now turn to the study of the nature of our Ideals, of which we have a special instance in the ideal of peace that leads us to rebel against such a contention. In this study we shall deal with a subject that has significance for each of us in many directions quite apart from its relation to the appeal of any special ideal. It involves the consideration of one 's whole attitude towards life. This being the case, I shall have little to say in this chapter of the ideal of peace itself. I shall purposely illustrate the points I would emphasise by reference to other ideals, leaving to our next chapter the appli- 50 THE NATURE OF IDEALS 51 cation of what we learn to the special ideal which leads us to make this inquiry. In the preceding chapters I have attempted to indicate the general basis of the belief that our creative spontaneity is efficient in the Universe ; and I would now call attention to the fact that the very strongest evidence that there is such a thing as this creative spontaneity is given in the very existence of our ideals; and that the very strongest evi- dence of our efficiency through this creative spontaneity is given in the fact that we actu- ally are able in some measure to mould Na- ture in accord with these ideals. For what are our Ideals ? They are images of situations that we recognise are not at the moment realised in Nature as we find it, but which we long to see realised. This is of course self-evident. Our ideals of conduct are conceptions of right action which we hope may be possible of attainment, but which are not yet attained. The ideal of the scientific investigator is a law of truth which he believes to exist, but which he has not yet discovered. The ideal of the artist is a fulness of beauty which he longs to ere- 52 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE ate, but which he has not yet approached. Or, to descend to the commonplace, the ideal of the golf player is a low score which he hopes is possible, but which he has not yet placed to his credit. All this is trite enough. There is, however, one point in connection with it that is highly important, but very generally overlooked. If we consider the nature of our ordinary ideas, exclusive of our ideals, we find that practically all of them are connected directly or indirectly with the action upon us of ob- jects in Nature ; for they are interpretations of what we find existing in Nature. Thus the conception of heat is the resultant of our experiences of hot bodies. The notion of change is forced upon us by the constant alteration of our experiences in relation to the world about us. But when we turn to our ideals we find that we step beyond the interpretation of any- thing that exists in Nature ; for it is of the very essence of an ideal that the image or idea conceived is not realised. Now, clearly, in thus stepping beyond what is THE NATURE OF IDEALS 53 found in Nature we display the strongest possible evidence of the existence of our spontaneity of our creativeness ; evidence that is given in the experience of each one of us ; for we all recognise the process by which we create these ideals of objects or situations that do not exist. The reformer and each of us is to some degree a reformer con- structs for himself ideals of educational method, of political procedure, of social re- generation, which have never been realised, and which are opposed to certain traditional modes of thought. He makes his own ideals of purpose, and his ideals of means to ac- complish his purpose; and in this demon- strates the power of his creative energy. In fact, were there no other evidence of our creative ability the very existence of these ideals would suffice to establish it. As we have seen, our appreciation of the fact that we are acting intelligently is in it- self an indication that adaptation to meet the special conditions of the moment is occur- ring. When we entertain an ideal we are act- ing intelligently and thus showing evidence 54 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE of our adaptive effort. But in the very fact that we entertain it we are evidently stepping beyond the mere adaptive effort of the mo- ment; we are maintaining this effort. The very existence of an ideal thus indicates that he who entertains it is engaged in a creative effort to modify Nature as it exists for him, who, in creating his ideal, appreciates dis- satisfaction with the situations in Nature as he finds them. The ideals thus referred to as most famil- iar to us are gained in the clear light of in- telligence. Some of the noblest of our ideals, however, seem to come to us as "inspira- tions" as we say: they rise from within the field of intuition, and apart from any recog- nised intellectual activity. This, however, does not raise question as to the points just made, it merely gives us added evidence that the whole of consciousness is fundamentally of the same nature through and through. For, as we have seen, our creativeness, our spon- taneity, while more clearly evidenced in in- telligence, is felt more keenly in connection with our intuitional experiences. And this THE NATURE OF IDEALS 55 being the case it is but natural to find that new ideals are often felt to be due to intui- tion only ; although in truth they are largely developed from data given in clear thought, and are perfected by intelligence. But there is another fact in connection with these ideals that serves to show the ef- ficiency of our creative spontaneity. Not only do we create ideals of what is not at the moment realised in Nature, but we actually by our own effort may in some measure effect their realisation in Nature. These ideals, being not yet realised, do not exist in Nature until, acting creatively, we put them there. We attempt, and at times are able, to force them upon Nature, and in this again display our creative energy. Had an inquisitive spirit from Mars vis- ited this earth a few hundred years ago bent upon making report of his findings to his Martian Association for the Advance- ment of Science, and had he studied the social conditions then existing in Western Europe, he would have discovered no signs whatever of any procedure looking to the 56 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE education of the common people, such as he would find if he revisited us to-day. Nature, then, as he would now view it, would appear to have changed; and this change has been brought about mainly through the creation by men of ideals of educational opportuni- ties for the people at large, which at the mo- ment did not exist, but which by persistent effort have now become very largely realised. By his own creative spontaneity; man has thus forced upon Nature a characteristic which did not obtain these few hundred years ago. Ideals as thus described are recognised to be our own in a very intimate sense. We may for convenience speak of them as Individualistic Ideals. But it may occur to some reader that the statements made above are much too broad; and he may point in evidence to the existence of what we may call Traditional Ideals; which, he may say, are surely not created by us, but are rather given to us. Thus he may say that ideals of truth-telling, and simple honesty, were taught to him by his parents, THE NATURE OF IDEALS 57 and were thus forced upon him without any exercise of his spontaneity. This brings to view an important point; for it is impossible to overlook the fact that education and tradition have much to do with the nature of a large proportion of our ideals ; indeed, I take this to be a very significant fact, as we shall see later. But here we are led to ask how these tradi- tional ideals can ever have come into exis- tence. They cannot have sprung up suddenly, full fledged, as traditional. Each of them must have first appeared as the result of the insight of some individual seer, whose ideal appealed to those he influenced ; who, in turn, by teaching it to their children, made it a traditional ideal. This becomes clearer when we think of changes of traditional ideals. If, for instance, there is a radical difference between the ideals of the time of the ancient Hebrews and our own, the former must have been altered by influences apart from the Hebraic tradi- tion by rebellions against it; and these could only have arisen from the spontaneity of individual men. 58 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE So, again, we think of the Parthenon at Athens as one of the most beautiful of ob- jects ; as one that closely approaches our tra- ditional ideal of beauty. Yet Aristotle, who gave much attention to Esthetics, could not have been affected by the Parthenon as we are, for he thought so little of Architecture as a mode of expression of the beautiful, that he defended a theory of Art which places Architecture outside of the realm of the Fine Arts. Since Aristotle's day cultivated men have created a modification of the ideal of Beauty which leads them to the conviction that Architecture must be included among the Fine Arts, and to see in the Parthenon so noble an example of this particular Fine Art, that its beauty is established for most of us by mere tradition. But while some of my readers may agree that these traditional ideals represent the spontaneity of men of the past, they may nevertheless still find no ground for holding that the ideals they personally gain by education or tradition are in any way what they are because of their own spontaneity; until they note that, although these tradi- THE NATURE OF IDEALS 59 tional ideals are suggested to us, nevertheless we must ourselves act upon them; we must either accept them as they are given to us, or must modify them ; and in the one case, as in the other, the activity of ourselves is in- volved. If we accept them we make them ours by an act of will, which is always there, although often lost sight of. If, on the other hand, we attempt to modify them, we in this very fact actually create for ourselves, by our own spontaneity, new ideals diverse from those which we modify. To the signi- ficance of this distinction between these two types of ideals we shall refer later. In order to illustrate the positions thus maintained let me ask the reader to consider one of our most commonplace modern ideals which is so firmly established, and so thoroughly objectified, that we come to think of it not as an ideal of our own at all, but as a fact in Nature. We usually think of progress as something discovered in Nature. In reality it is an ideal of our own; an ideal concerning ideals. Progress is an unfolding of situations in ac- 60 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE cord with our ideals of what this unfolding ought to show. Nature displays changes of various kinds ; it is we who interpret these changes as being in accord with, or not in accord with, our ideals of what these changes should be. If these changes accord with these ideals we say that we note progress. If they do not, we say we note retrogression, or at least stagnation. We think of the development of vertebrate animals from other forms as a mark of pro- gress, and these other forms from which they developed as lower animals; and this only because we men are vertebrates, and our ideal is human dominance; and because the characteristic attributes of human life, while found in large measure in all vertebrates, are not found in the invertebrates. But I can well imagine a philosopher among the ants, with ideals of racial significance diverse from ours, arguing that the development of the vertebrates represents, not progress, but retrogression; and actually supporting his contention by the acknowledgments of cer- THE NATURE OF IDEALS 61 tain modern human philosophers who glorify instinct at the expense of intellect. So again the trainer of the prize-fighter thinks of his pupil as making progress when the pupil gains capacities that meet the train- er's ideal; capacities which we, with diverse ideals, look upon as belonging to a brutal age. And the modern mother delights in the pro- gress made by her daughter in the intricate modes of the present-day dance, which her Puritan great-grandmother, with her quite diverse ideals of propriety, would have thought a certain indication of a fall from grace. That progress is an ideal of ours, and not a fact otherwise existing in Nature, is further evidenced in our efforts, and at times suc- cessful efforts, to put this ideal into Nature where it does not now exist. We are all pro- gressives. Having by our own creativeness gained an ideal of those changes which con- stitute progress, we again are often able actually to realise this ideal which would not be found in Nature but for our creativeness. Much the same line of thought is suggested 62 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE in relation to the conception of purpose. There is little convincing evidence of the ex- istence of purpose in Nature. Purpose, as we see it in Nature, is an interpretation we make when we find the unfolding of her pro- cesses in accord with our ideals of purpose. We put purpose into Nature. A similar mode of consideration leads us to see that what we call the good is also an ideal of ours, which does not exist in Nature, and that evil exists only in contrast with this ideal of good. This is an important point, to which we shall refer later. Now surely in all this we are dealing with a most significant fact. For in the very per- sistency with which we cling to these concep- tions of progress, of purpose, of the good, we have evidence of the force of that spontaneity which enables us to create these ideals of pro- gress, of purpose, of the good; and in some measure to effect their realisation in Nature, where otherwise they would not obtain. Of the tremendous force of our ideals in the determination of human conduct I do not need to speak. Think what the ideal of in- THE NATURE OF IDEALS 63 dividual liberty has done for the race of man within the last few centuries. A few years ago a small group of thought- ful Chinamen, seeking for the basis of their subjection to the great Western powers, thought they saw it in the prevalence of the opium habit. And they created an ideal look- ing to the obliteration of this habit, an ideal which must have seemed to many to be preposterously impracticable. But to-day we see the masses of intelligent men in China united in effective efforts to destroy the traf- fic in the obnoxious drug. What may we not expect of a race that can be persuaded by an ideal to make so great a commercial sacrifice? n These ideals of ours, if given by education or tradition, appear in our experience as ideas; and if they are gained by our own creativeness as individualistic ideals they at once assume the form of ideas. Now all ideas, as such, are influenced by the self. We may remain relatively passive in relation to them ; but if we do not, we must 64 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE either reject them and discourage their de- velopment, or accept and welcome them and encourage their development. This is true of all ideas without any exception ; and there- fore true of that particular class of ideas that we call ideals. As ideas, then, ideals are at once subjected to the influence of the active self, as all other ideas are. We may remain relatively passive in relation to them, or we may actively reject or accept them. If we remain passive in re- lation to them they still remain ideals for us, even though they are not actively accepted. This passivity in relation to, and this ac- tive acceptance of, ideals thus represent two quite diverse attitudes in ourselves towards ideals. Passivity in relation to them yields pessimism. Active acceptance of them yields optimism. The pessimist is not without the appreciation of ideals, but he despairs of their realisation. The optimist also has ideals, and in actively accepting them tends to guide his thought in directions which, di- rectly or indirectly, in some measure, aim at their realisation. It is unnecessary to enlarge upon this dis- OUR ATTITUDE TOWARDS IDEALS 65 |4 tinction of attitudes. The recognition of them is so commonplace that we even find them constantly made the basis of jokes in our popular journals. The appreciation of the existence of these opposed attitudes to- wards our ideals does not, however, in itself indicate how far either of them is rational or irrational; does not tell us whether the one or the other should be encouraged; and to this question we shall now turn. We may remark in the beginning that we shall limit ourselves in the main to the con- sideration of certain arguments and asser- tions made by the pessimist; for it is to be noted that indirectly he acknowledges the strength of the optimist's position, by always appearing as an apologist. He endea- vours to explain why it is that he cannot join the ranks of the optimist. He contents himself with the suggestion of reasons that seem to him to indicate that the hope and courage of the optimist are unwarranted. Paradoxical as it may seem at the first glance, it is nevertheless true that the pessi- mist is such just because he is, or has been, an idealist. He has entertained, and has / 66 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE been disappointed because he does not see realised, what is perhaps the most pervasive of all traditional ideals : an ideal which pic- tures a world full of pleasure and devoid of pain; a world in which evil does not enter, and good prevails. This ideal is of course merely one of count- less ideals, but it is the one that seems to a very large part of mankind to be the most significant of all; for if it were realised it would preclude the pains of disappointment resultant from our failure to realise all other ideals, and therefore clearly could be realised only provided all our other ideals were also realised. But the psychologist tells us that the real- isation of such an ideal is inconceivable. He tells us that pain and pleasure are necessary correlatives : that we could not eliminate pain from our world without at the same time eliminating pleasure. And surely no one of us could wish to live in such a world. Pain indicates inefficiency in the physical part whose activity corresponds with the painful experience. Pleasure indicates effi- OUR ATTITUDE TOWARDS IDEALS 67 ciency in the physical part whose activity corresponds with the pleasant experience. It is when we are exhausted, and our muscles act inefficiently, that we experience pain at the close of a too long walk. It is at the be- ginning of our tramp, when all the bodily parts are well rested, and thus well nour- ished, that the efficient muscle activities yield pleasure.* What the theoretical pessimist demands then, in the banishment of pain, is the banish- ment from experience of all indications of in- efficiency; while on the other hand he would wish, in the retention of pleasure, to retain in experience all indications of efficiency. But evidently, even were such a situation possible, its resultants would be far from desirable. To lose all warnings of inefficiency in the loss of pain would mean a headlong race to de- * The observation of facts of this nature led Aristotle to accept the theory that pleasure-pain corresponds with bodily efficiency-inefficiency. This theory as held by him, and as reiterated by many thinkers in later times, has proven unsatisfactory because the efficiency-inefficiency has been held to apply to the bodily organism rather than to the specific part of the organism whose activity corre- sponds with the mental content that is pleasant or pain- ful. In this latter form the theory holds good. Confer my "Pain, Pleasure and ^Esthetics." 68 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE struction. Did we experience naught but pleasure this would indeed mean the persis- tence of no activities that were not efficient ; but it would soon lead to exhaustion were not the warning of pain given as soon as this efficiency is replaced by inefficiency in the particular part indicated by the pain. But our pessimist may perhaps say that he is not concerned with the question as to the desirability of a world devoid of pain, but with a question of fact ; he holding that, not- withstanding the psychologist's theory, there is on the whole more of pain than of pleasure in the experience of the individual. Let us then inquire of the psychologist what he has to say in regard to this claim. He will again ask us to consider the fact that pain means inefficiency, and pleasure efficiency; and then to note that if it were true that the pains of an individual on the whole overbalance his pleasures, it would also be true that there exists in him a balance of inefficiency over efficiency in his daily life. But clearly this would involve speedy death ; and as a matter of fact the processes of life are, on the whole, long continued. OUR ATTITUDE TOWARDS IDEALS 69 In order, therefore, to substantiate Ms theory in this regard the pessimist must rely upon his own introspective experience ; must contend that for himself at least painful ex- periences overbalance pleasant ones. Here, however, he is evidently very likely to be led astray, and in my view is led astray, by the fact that pains as a rule are more vivid than pleasures, and are therefore more easily held in attention: they must in general be relatively vivid if they are to be serviceable as warnings, as they often are. And this leads us to overlook very generally the exis- tence of a vast mass of experiences that are pleasant in moderate degree. The pessimists are a thankless brood. They easily forget the multitudinous mass of mod- erate pleasures gained in experience from moment to moment ; and can find only words of complaint against the pains, which are a merciful provision to warn them from dan- gerous excess. It must be remembered also in this connec- tion that, on the whole, we tend to give to pain a more dignified role in the constitution of the Universe than we have any right to 70 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE give to it. Human pain tells of the ineffi- ciency of some special part or parts of an enormously complex individual organism; but this inefficiency of a minor part is of but insignificant moment in relation to the pro- gress of our race itself, and of still less signi- ficance in relation to the Universe of which we men are but minor parts. So our pains, which indeed are hard to bear, should surely be looked upon, and in fact are looked upon by the enlightened man, as of small moment in relation to the higher values of life in relation to our ideals of justice, of mercy, of mutual service. "The most important lesson that man can learn from his life," says Tagore,* "is not that there is pain in this world, but that it de- pends upon him to turn it into good account that it is possible for him to transmute it into joy." But some readers may say that they are not so much impressed by the pessimist's positions in relation to pain, as they are by his emphasis of evil. Is he justified, they will "Sadhana," p. 63. OUR ATTITUDE TOWARDS IDEALS 71 ask, in declaring that the evil in the world overbalances the good? Let us see. In the earlier part of this chapter we con- sidered at some length the concept of pro- gress, noting that Nature knows no such thing; that it is we who put progress into Nature by the creation of an ideal of what Nature's changes ought to show. As I then said, a similar mode of consideration leads us to see that what we call the good is also an ideal of ours, and that evil exists only in con- trast with this ideal of good. In other words, good is an ideal of our own in reference to which we interpret Nature. If we find that situations in Nature accord with this ideal of ours, we call them good. If they do not ac- cord with this ideal, we call them evil. Na- ture knows neither good nor evil ; she fosters certain forms of life and crushes out others without a qualm; the evil and good are put into Nature by us as conscious beings. We think of ferocious beasts of prey as evil things, and endeavour to destroy them, that human life may be the safer. Were we lions and tigers, and could we then think as we now do, we should look upon this human 72 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE life of ours as an evil to be strenuously com- bated. The ideal of good of the supposedly intelligent lion or tiger would thus make an evil of that which we regard as a good. Evil thus appears as a conception of our own which we attach to certain facts and pro- cesses in Nature. But it is to be especially noted, as I have already said, that we thus attach evil to any thing or circumstance only because we have created an ideal of good with which this evil is contrasted. Not find- ing this good realised in Nature, we apply to Nature our contradictory conception of evil. Had we not created the concept of good, the demon evil would never have reared his head to trouble us. Let me give a few examples to illustrate this fact. Among the strange people of the Pacific Islands the child of five or six years of age is found weaving mats from morn to eve, and no one of its tribe thinks it unnatural that it should do so. Child labour for us, however, is a bitter evil. And why? Be- cause we have gained an ideal of good, in re- lation to the child, which places such early labour in the contrasted category of evil. OUR ATTITUDE TOWARDS IDEALS 73 Our complaint against the injustice to the oppressed is due to the fact that we have created ideals of justice which are not found in the semi-civilised man. What we call the act of injustice of the semi-civilised man is not looked upon by him as an evil act at all ; to him it appears to he quite neutral, as any one must agree who considers the situation in Mexico to-day. But we, who have gained an ideal of justice as a good, at the same time make this evil of injustice, which we attrib- ute to Nature when we discover that our ideal of justice is not realised in Nature. The modern demand for what is called a "living wage" is based upon an ideal as to what decent living entails.* What some of us think of as indecent living seems to a vast proportion of mankind to be quite normal, and not in any way a subject for complaint. We have created an ideal of what is the mini- mum of decency in living which throws all that is below this minimum into the category of evil. * It would make the issue raised in this matter clearer if we always spoke of the "decent-living wage" instead of the "living wage." 74 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE Thus ideals of good, largely self -created as we have seen all individualistic ideals are, force into view the conception of evil. And in this very fact we surely find grounds for optimism rather than for pessimism. In truth the hope of our race lies in the very fact that it does find the world full of evil, for this indicates that we have firmly fixed within us ideals of good which, so far as real- ised, must benefit our race. It is we who put evil into our world just so far as we create our own ideals of good. And in the fact that we do create these ideals of good we have the best promise of advance that can be given to us. For if we could at this moment banish from our world all that we now look upon as evil, we, if we continued to be a growing and developing people, would at once create for ourselves new ideals of goodness which would compel us to view as evil much that we now accept with full con- tentment. Only if we remained stationary could evil be eliminated from our world, and then with the abolition of evil would dis- appear all conceptions of good as well. Konische, the most famous woman poet of OUR ATTITUDE TOWARDS IDEALS 75 Japan, expresses this in a peculiarly beauti- ful way. Using the word Paradise to rep- resent the world of our Ideals, she sings : "It is because we are in Paradise that all things in the world wrong us. When we go out of Paradise nothing hurts, for nothing matters." Another ground for pessimism is often found in connection with the acceptance of the doctrine of determinism, to which we have referred in the preceding chapter, and which is so often identified with fatalism. But we then saw that there is no ground whatever for this identification of deter- minism with fatalism; which latter involves, as the former does not, complete blindness to the overwhelming evidence of creativeness in Nature in general, and in ourselves as part of Nature. Thus, even if we find ourselves impelled to adopt the deterministic position we are in no way bound to adopt the pes- simistic attitude born of fatalism. As it would be inappropriate to deal here with more than general principles, we can refer but briefly to those special grounds for pessimism that are given in our contempla- 76 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE tion of the ravages of disease, especially where this is due to a morbid inheritance; and of the immoralities of man that seem to be traceable to a similar morbid inheritance. What we call a disease is no more than a special form given to a living being by the abnormal activities of certain parts of the body which throw the delicately balanced organism out of adjustment. Disease indeed may, in the end, destroy the body as such a living organism; but while disease exists as such, life, although abnormal, still persists. Evidently, then, the state of disease may properly be looked upon as a special form of life; and as such it cannot be considered to be in itself an evil. Disease becomes an evil only so far as it is contrasted with an ideal of good only so far as it yields pain, or ap- pears to curtail the efficient activities of the stricken individual, or likely to curtail those of his descendants. That the existence of disease considered as a source of pain cannot give ground for pes- simism is clear if the existence of pain itself gives no such ground; and this we have ar- gued at length above. OUR ATTITUDE TOWARDS IDEALS 77 That the limitation of the efficiency of the individual through disease is felt to be an evil is due to the fact that we entertain an ideal of what fully efficient vitality entails. And in the very fact that we do entertain this ideal we have the incentive to effort to combat the untoward effects of disease, which has been one of the most powerful forces leading to the vast development of therapeutics among civilised men. The pessimism that is engendered by the contemplation of the fact that morbid physi- cal qualities are often traceable to inherit- ance compels us to face a special difficulty. The inherited trait that seems obviously con- nected with the physical disease cannot, how- ever, be treated in isolation; for all of our activities without any exception, and hence all diseased conditions, are influenced by in- heritance. The case of disease that attracts our attention as being obviously traceable to inheritance must therefore be viewed as no more than a special case of disease in gen- eral, of which we have already spoken above. The fact that our activities are largely de- termined by heredity must indeed not only 78 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE be faced, but must be accepted with thank- fulness. For inheritance in general tells of the experience of the past. Without the abil- ity to take advantage of this racial experi- ence through heredity we could scarcely live an instant. And when, finally, we turn to consider the pessimism based upon the immoralities of men that seem traceable to inheritance, we are led to see that the very fact that we notice in ourselves certain immoralities which seem to be due to inheritance is indeed a hopeful sign: for it means that we have gained ideals of righteousness, and have come to appreciate that our modes of activity due to inheritance do not work in the direc- tion suggested by these ideals. This merely goes to show that we recognise that the moral capacities given to us by inheritance require modification if we are to adapt ourselves to such conditions as we consider ideal. And, as we have seen, we have the basis of such adaptation in our own spontaneity as devel- oped in the life of intelligence. And when we turn to consider what we call the immoralities of other men, and see in OUR ATTITUDE TOWARDS IDEALS 79 their deplorable acts evidence of inheritance from morbid ancestors, we are led to note that these other men, if not enlightened, find no fault with the nature of their inheritance, even as they see no evil in what we look upon as their morbid acts. It is we who, having gained new and what we think of as higher ideals, find their inheritance morbid, and their acts immoral. If these other men are to see the evil we find in their inherited na- ture, and in the immorality of their acts, they must be made to take our view. And this means that they will have created for them- selves ideals of good which bring the con- ception of evil into being; and that they are then prepared by their own spontaneity to modify these traits, so far as in them lies. On the whole, it is to be said in reference to these phenomena of criminal heritage, and to all other morbidities of the world, that in the very fact that we, or those who embody them, do appreciate them to be evil, we have the surest sign of the possibility of advance towards a better situation, for it is a sign that we have created ideals of what we look upon as not morbid ; and this in turn indicates that 80 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE our spontaneity has a field for endeavour looking to the realisation of these ideals. The fact that we feel the crushing horror of such cases merely goes to show the existence with- in us of vivid ideals which we may strive to realise, and may in fact often actually suc- ceed in bringing to realisation. And now, having shown that the pessimist has no sound basis for his position, allow me to say just a word in relation to the grounds for maintaining an attitude of optimism. One of our most noted biologists once said to me that he never ceased to be filled with wonder when he considered what happens when any one of us scratches his skin. The scratch ex- poses cells which have up to that moment lived what we might call an exceedingly dor- mant life. But the scratch, placing the cells under new conditions, at once shows them to have powers that could not have been di- vined from any observations of their previous behaviour ; for they at once begin to do what they never have done before they begin to form new skin to replace that removed by the scratch. OUR ATTITUDE TOWARDS IDEALS 81 This capacity to undertake what appear to be quite new tasks is characteristic of all liv- ing matter, and of our organisms, which are highly complex systems of living matter. William James, it will be recalled, in his sug- gestive essay on "The Energies of Men," says in summing up : ' ' The human individual lives usually far within his limits; he pos- sesses powers of various sorts which he ha- bitually fails to use. He energises below his maximum, and he behaves below his opti- mum. ' ' What he means is that we habitually fail to allow our spontaneity to develop its full potentialities. The pessimist is one who more or less de- liberately curtails the development of this spontaneity. The optimist is one who more or less deliberately encourages this develop- ment. And in such encouragement lies our only hope of advance: for in this sponta- neity we have our only mode of discovery of adaptive means to fit us to respond to the constantly changing conditions of life, our only method of realising the ideals we have created. There are dangers, to be sure, in connec- 82 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE tion with an optimism which leads one to re- fuse to face the facts, that declines to appre- ciate the existence of evils in the world; an optimism which tempts us, like Podsnap in Dickens 's "Our Mutual Friend," to sweep them from our world by a wave of one 's men- tal hand, so to speak. Beyond this we all tend to be over self- confident, ever ready to think ourselves great inventors, and to forget the possibility, and in fact the probability, that the new ideals we make for ourselves may well have been al- ready entertained, and contended for, by others in the past ; and have left no record in existing standards merely because they have failed to be effective. Nor must we fail to note that our ideals, if realised, will themselves be no more than experiments. What exists in Nature has for one reason or another been able to stand the test of time. Our attempted changes in Na- ture to make it accord with our ideals must stand the same test. So, although we should be courageous, and even daring, in defence of our individualistic ideals, we must be ever ready to face the OUR ATTITUDE TOWARDS IDEALS 83 facts. I am not recommending a blind opti- mism: such irrational optimism as that just referred to, when it is forced upon occasion to face the facts, is not uncommonly dis- placed by a correspondingly irrational pessi- mism. I do find grounds, however, for an in- telligent optimism in the very fact that we discover ourselves creating ideals and act- ually forcing their realisation in Nature by our own creative energy. What we need is courage to use our spontaneity, which alone can lead us forward ; and this is the attitude of optimism. We have reached the end of the study we set out to make ; but in closing I would refer briefly to one point in relation to our ideals, that will appear of significance in a later chapter. As we have seen above, our ideals are of two forms: individualistic and traditional. Individualistic ideals are those invented or adopted by the reformer, who dreams of sit- uations not realised, but which he pictures as possible of realisation. Traditional ideals, on the other hand, speak of existing custom 84 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE and habit ; they are given to us ready-made ; they are the result of a sifting process that has separated out those ideals that have proved to be most persistent, and in general most effective, from the chaos of diverse in- dividualistic ideals held in the past by people of diverse characters. Our individualistic ideals, therefore, tell of the present, and of attempts to adjust ourselves to conditions in the present. Traditional ideals, on the other hand, tell of the experience of the past. We thus see that the individualistic ideal and the traditional ideal each has a dignity of its own, although they are in a sense op- posed to one another. Our traditional ideals, as embodied in existing standards and modes of procedure, tell of the past experience of the race ; and we certainly cannot hope to be effective individuals if we lightly cast them aside, for they exist because they have stood the test of time. On the other hand, it is equally true that we cannot hope to be effec- tive individuals unless we are prepared to make effort to meet present conditions as these are indicated by the existence of the in- dividualistic ideals that are given to the re- THE CONFLICT OF IDEALS 85 former; and these we surely must consider closely, and cling to with all our strength if upon consideration they appear to us to be warranted. It is of course evident that in laying aside the ideals of tradition in favour of our indi- vidualistic ideals, we take great risk; for these traditional ideals tell of values found by a long array of our ancestors. We must always remember that our own special indi- vidualistic ideals of reform are of an experi- mental nature, and that they may well fail to yield results as effective as those suggested by the experience of the past as embodied in traditional ideals. On the whole, then, we may say that we must give full weight to the warnings of tra- dition; but that, having done so, we are bound to cultivate our individually divergent ideals, bound to work for reform, if after full consideration these individualistic ideals still press us to action; for only by such cultiva- tion can we hope for the establishment of new ideals better fitted than the old to meet new conditions. It were surely rank cowar- dice to be unwilling to face with courage the 86 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE dangers involved in such opposition to the ideals of tradition. But in acting thus we must not allow our- selves to overlook the fact that we all tend to be over self-confident; ever ready, as I have said above, to think ourselves great in- ventors ; ever ready to forget the probability that these new ideals that we have made for ourselves may well have been entertained and contended for by others in the past, and have left no record in existing standards and modes of procedure merely because they have failed to be as effective as the methods of tradition they would displace. In the opening paragraphs of this chapter I have said that, as I wished to concentrate attention upon the nature of ideals in gen- eral, I should purposely illustrate my points by reference to other ideals than that of peace, which is of such special interest to us at this time. This intention I have carried out ; but I cannot close without saying a word in reference to this noble ideal. Our consideration of the general nature of our ideals must show us that the special ideal THE CONFLICT OF IDEALS 87 of peace is a creation of our own; an image of what is not now found in Nature, but which we long to put into Nature. And in this very recognition of our creative efficiency we find reason to hope that our creativeness may press on to the eventual realisation of this ideal. But this same consideration has also led us to see reason why we should not allow ourselves to be deceived by an unintelligent optimism that refuses to look the facts in the face; an optimism that may lead to the entertainment of hopes which, being thwart- ed, yield despair and pessimism. We see that we need to school ourselves to courage if we are to realise this great ideal. Of all this we shall speak in detail in our next chapter. We shall then find ourselves led to believe that we have not generally faced the facts : that many of those who long for peace have indeed been irrationally opti- mistic, and, having failed to appreciate the difficulties in the way of the realisation of our ideal, have also failed to take those steps that alone can lead to success in our effort to this end. But for all that I think we shall 88 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE also see that, notwithstanding many discour- agements, we have good ground for belief that in the end our effort will avail, and that the ideal of peace will be realised; and shall discover not a few signs that this realisation is nearer at hand than many are inclined to think. m Before we turn, as we shall now do, to the attempt to apply the results of this study to the special problems that are called to our attention to-day, it may be well to summarise briefly the main points we have thus far made. We have undertaken to consider certain questions that are forced upon our attention in connection with the frequently reiterated assertion that war, being a product of Na- ture's inexorable laws, must necessarily recur from time to time; and that therefore our ideal of peace is an idle dream. That we might be the better prepared to judge of the truth in this matter we decided at the start to consider first what we really mean when we state that we are governed THE CONFLICT OF IDEALS 89 by the inexorable laws of Nature, one of which is this hypothetical law that results in recurrent wars; and secondly what are the characteristics of ideals in general, one of which is this ideal of peace. When we asked what we mean by saying that we are governed by laws of Nature, we were at once thrown back to a still more fun- damental problem; for we found that this meaning must be determined by the manner in which we interpret Nature. We therefore decided to inquire at the start how Nature should be interpreted to meet our need. To a brief study of this question we de- voted our introductory chapter, in which we were le"d to see that we can gain no adequate conception of the meaning of Nature's laws unless we give to the Universe not only the naturalistic interpretation of science, but also a psychic interpretation an interpreta- tion in terms of mentality. Based upon this preliminary result we saw, in our second chapter, that law is merely a descriptive term; that all we mean when we hold that we are governed by Nature's laws 90 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE is that we, being part and parcel of Nature, are examplars of its characteristics, which when carefully formulated we call its laws. We saw that we are not slaves to laws of Nature that are extrinsic to us ; but that our characteristics go to determine what these laws actually are; that if these characteris- tics of ours change, then the laws of Nature so far as they relate to man must themselves change. We then noted that one of these character- istics of ours that we cannot overlook is the very marked sense of our own creative spontaneity of our sense of ability to mould Nature, to use it for our self-created pur- poses. And when we considered the essen- tial nature of this characteristic we were led to the conclusion that physical, and its corre- sponding psychic, creativeness pervades the whole of Nature; and that this sense of our own creative spontaneity indicates that we have real efficiency in the moulding of Na- ture, and of ourselves as parts of Nature: that is to say, real efficiency in determining the character of those laws which define the man. THE CONFLICT OF IDEALS 91 Turning then, in this chapter, to the study of the characteristics of ideals in general, of which our ideal of peace is a special example, we have seen that ideals are a special form of ideas. We have noted that while an enor- mous proportion of our ideas are determined by what is in Nature, and by relations exist- ing between the objects and situations in Na- ture, it is of the very essence of an ideal that it is an image of a situation that does not exist in Nature. An ideal is in fact the crea- tion of what is new to Nature. We thus have seen that in the very exis- tence of these ideals we have the strongest possible evidence of that creative efficiency which our studies in our second chapter had led us to assert, and that this evidence is greatly strengthened by the fact that we are occasionally actually able to realise these ideals ; i.e., to force them upon Nature where they would not exist but for our creative energy. Having thus prepared ourselves, we may turn to the special problem that led us to make these preliminary studies. PART II THE SPECIAL PROBLEMS CHAPTER IV THE LAW OF STKIFE AND THE IDEAL THE studies of Part I were undertaken that we might be the better prepared to decide as to the validity of the theory that war, being a resultant of Nature's laws, must necessarily recur from time to time; and that therefore our ideal of universal peace can never be real- ised. Turning now to the consideration of this problem, we are met at the start by a question of fact the question whether it is really true that war results from a law of Nature. The law of Nature referred to is the law of inherited instinct which it is held leads man to fight for dominance. We may then put our question in another way, asking Trhfithftr it la.Jr.uft:thflt man A w by nature a fighting animal; true that fighting instincts are given to him by inheritance, and that the law of his nature compels him from time to time to wage war? 05 96 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE To the first part of this question we must at once give an affirmative reply; i.e., we must agree that man as he has existed so far as we can read the story of his development has been, and as he exists to-day still is, a fighting animal ; that is to say, that he has in the past answered, and still answers, certain stimuli by the immediate reactions which constitute fighting. In his lowest state man was little removed from his gorilla-like cousins who have left their descendants for our study. We see every reason to believe that he was as ready as they are to fight his neighbours that he might gain the immediate satisfaction of his needs and of his desires ; and, so far as exist- ing savages live what we picture to have been the lives of primitive men, we find them ex- / emplifying these same characteristics. I"""* We find evidence, tQJT, of the existence of this fighting instinct in the ordinary men around us. Remove but for a moment the re- straints given in our civilised lands and this tendency is likely to become prominent upon the slightest stimulation. We see this exem- plified in the lives of the pioneer and adven- THE LAW OF STRIFE 97 turer the world over: in that of the cowboy of the far West, in that of the rubber col- lector on the Amazon, in that of the ivory trader on the Congo. ^ <- Then, too, the prize-fighter is still a prom- inent person in onr community taken as a whole ; and even in our sports, as engaged in by "gentlemen amateurs," we find it neces- sary to make rigid rules to prevent the friendly contest from developing into a fierce struggle for individual physical dominance. J But man gained his pre-eminent position among the animals mainly through his ability to form co-operative groups working to com- mon ends ; and long before the times of which anthropological research give us any clear knowledge man had turned his individualistic fighting instincts to the service of his group or clan. That is to say, he had become a warrior ; giving his best strength to co-opera- tive aggression in behalf of satisfactions that could not be won by him as an individual act- ing for himself. It may be well to note here that together with this development of clan co-operation in fighting as a member of a group, there neces- 98 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE sarily grew up the tendency in the individual in a given clan to react as a warrior upon the appearance of any action of another clan that seemed to point to aggressive intentions ; and a related tendency to assume an aggressive attitude whenever there appeared any chance of gain of advantage over this other clan. This carried with it a corresponding general mental attitude w r hich is the basis of the sen- timent of patriotism, of which very primitive sentiment we shall have more to say later. The record of the far-away days to which we have just referred is dim. Late dis- coveries have, however, enabled us to go back some considerable distance in time. Where they have anything like a clear story to tell they speak of complex co-operative com- munities that can only have been the develop- ment of forms of life of like kinds that had existed in less complex form for ages before. Investigations show that some five thou- sand years ago a civilisation of this type appeared on the Babylonian plains ; we know little more of it than the name of its war-lord king, who described himself as "the mighty king of the four quarters, the subduer of nine THE LAW OF STRIFE 99 armies in one year" : that was the basis of his recognition as a world figure. Five thousand years, however, is but a short span in the his- tory of man, which, as we now read it, runs back perhaps hundreds of thousands of years. But how do we gain this knowledge of man's long lineage! Mainly through excavated re- mains, which are in large part more or less crude fighting implements. In the later all but prehistoric epochs we see the same evidence of man's fighting ten- dencies. The great poem of the Greeks the Iliad of Homer spoke for the people of the time. It would scarcely have been written but for the spontaneous tendency of the poet to see in war the most glorious of all man's effort. Nor do we have to look so far back. The noblest of the Greeks, and even of modern Idealists, have condoned, if they have not glorified, war ; and in our own time Nietzsche, speaking for not a few thinking men, and in terms of modern scientific con- ceptions, has asked us to look upon war as a powerful aid to human advancement. What we usually think of as history is but 100 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE a record of war following upon war ; and the fact that we teach the young to-day to look upon this record as the essence of history in- dicates that man's central interest in his forebears still is the prowess of those who have been victors in war. Yes ; we must grant that man is by nature a fighting animal. "The state of peace be- tween men who live near one another," Im- manuel Kant goes so far as to say,* "is not the state of nature. The natural state is rather one of war." This statement is in- deed too broad to be strictly accurate; for under certain conditions the stimuli which lead to the instinctive reaction may be lack- ing, and then the fighting propensities of the man, or nation, will not be evidenced. Such exceptional cases, however, do not take from the weight of the evidence going to show that deeply imbedded in man's nature are instincts that lead him to fight; to fight as an individual, and to fight with others of his kind in groups. We are led to overlook this fact that war is based upon man's instinctive fighting ten- * "Perpetual Peace," Introduction to Second Section. THE LAW OF STRIFE 101 dencies by the complexity of the modern fighting machine, and the equal complexity of the governmental processes which nowadays culminate in the initiation of war. The early man invented crude weapons which he him- self handled to serve his direct hostile pur- pose. The modern man has devised methods of warfare on a grand scale which involve the use of men as parts of the complex weapon. So the personal initiation of attack has given place to action under the command of officers who treat the individual men as their agents ; and these officers are subject to control from those still higher in position, who direct the beginnings and the processes of the fighting. But behind it all lies the ten- dency of the individual to fight, complicated enormously and masked by the fact that he has acquired a willingness to be guided by the judgment of others as to the best mode of gaining the victory. If, then, it is true that man is by nature a fighting animal, true that instinctive tenden- cies lead him to fight automatically when cer- tain stimuli are given, then also it is apparent 102 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE that, if our ideal of peace is to be realised, man must in some respects be virtually re- created, so that he will no longer give ex- pression to those instincts of his in such man- ner as lead us to describe him as a fighting animal. The question is thus at once raised whether this is possible. We are told by the biologist that nothing is more stubborn than an animal's inherited in- stincts; that their eradication, if it ever oc- curs completely, is so rare that we may say in general that an instinct once acquired by a race must remain part of its heritage. We are then told, by those whose conten- tions we are considering, that as man is an animal in whom fighting instincts exist, war must from time to time recur, because man is governed by these instincts, which are laws of his nature. But here our study in our second chapter leads us to pause; for we recall what we there saw to be the true meaning we express when we speak of man as being governed by Nature's laws. We do not hesitate to agree that man has within him instinctive tenden- cies that lead him to fight; but we see that THE LAW OF STRIFE 103 all we can mean by saying that he is gov- erned by this law of instinct is that he ex- emplifies in his normal activities certain characteristics of his race that these fight- ing instincts are part of his equipment. Moreover, our earlier studies have taught us also that this acknowledgment does not carry with it the implication that man is a slave to laws extrinsic to him. It has taught us that if man's instinctive tendencies could in any manner be inhibited or modified, so that he came to display other characteristics than those observed in the present expression of these inborn instincts, then the law of his nature would in that very fact be changed. We are thus led to ask whether the biologist finds evidence that an animal's instincts can be thus changed in mode of expression; and to this question we find an affirmative reply. The biologist speaks to us somewhat as follows. Although new racial characteristics have very rarely, if ever, been gained by the obliteration of instincts, changes in racial characteristics have not infrequently oc- curred as the result of the control, rather than the loss, of these inherited instincts. 104 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE This control may become effective in either one of two ways: first, by the thwarting, or inhibition, of the expression of the instincts ; or secondly, by the turning of its expression to other uses than that which originally re- sulted in its fixation. As an example of the thwarting of the ex- pression of an instinct we may take the func- tioning of the sexual instinct, which, as we see it in the animals in general, has been in- hibited in the human animal by the habits ac- quired by man as he has risen in the scale. So the instinct that guides the greedy dog in the presence of food, is an instinct that we men have also ; but in us it has been inhibited by the customs we speak of as politeness. This mode of change that of the mere chaining of the instinctive tendency is sub- ject to one great difficulty. The chain may by chance be broken; the inhibition may be removed; then the natural instinctive ten- dency at once shows itself. Remove the re- straints of civilised society but a little, and manifestations of the sexual instinct of our race appear in forms that are not far re- moved from those observed in the animal. THE LAW OF STRIFE 105 Place a man under conditions of starvation and he shows himself as greedy as the dog. The second mode of change that of the transference of functioning of the instincts into new channels meets this special diffi- culty : for it does not depend upon the chain- ing of the instinct. It actually makes use of the instinct. And the more important to the race the newer reference of the instinct's functioning turns out to be, the more certain is it to displace the original reference. If the new mode of functioning brings marked ad- vantage that is lost by reversion to the ear- lier manifestation of the instinct, so that such reversion to this earlier manifestation is a detriment to the race, then the change is likely to become a permanent one. No better example of this second mode of change of an instinct's functioning can be found than in the very existence of war it- self. The basic instinct is one that led the savage man to fight to protect himself, or to gain something for himself by aggressive at- tack. War has come into being as the result of a transfer of the functioning of this in- stinct, which at first had only an individual- 106 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE istic reference, so that it has come to have a clan or national reference. The early man found he could not have success as an indi- vidual unless he joined with his fellow-men in defence and aggression ; and that meant war. And note that this transfer of reference of the expression of this fighting instinct soon became so important to the race that rever- sion to its primal individualistic reference had to be inhibited. Aggressive attack by an individual upon another of his own clan or nation necessarily tended to weaken the so- cial unit, and to reduce its strength in its protective and aggressive wars; and thus such attacks by individuals came to be dis- countenanced, and finally in large measure repressed. Here, it will be observed, the fighting in- stinct of the individual has not been oblit- erated; it has not even been bound with chains ; but its modes of expression have been altered to have racial significance; and to have so great a significance in this new rela- tion that reversion to its primary form of ex- pression has become a serious obstacle to ra- cial advance. THE LAW OF STRIFE 107 Now if this has happened in the past, it certainly may happen in the future; and in new directions. We cannot hope to obliterate the instinct that leads the individual to fight ; but we surely may hope for the appearance of some new modes of action by which this in- stinct may gain expressions that do not in- volve war. And we may hope that these new modes of expression may become so signifi- cant to the race of man that any reversion to the original expression in the fighting be- tween individuals, or to the secondary ex- pression in the combined fighting of war, will of necessity be abandoned. So it appears after all that, although in- stincts can rarely if ever be obliterated, their manifestations may be so altered as to give the animal quite new characteristics. And this means that if the characteristics which we describe as the expression of man's fighting instincts could be so changed that these expressions were inhibited, or turned into quite new channels, the man would no longer be describable as a fighting animal. The biologist tells us that such changes in the mode of functioning of animal instincts 108 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE as have been thus referred to usually come into existence by the very slow process of non-intelligent adaptation, often at least due to the struggle for persistence. But it is evident that such changes may become estab- lished much more quickly as the result of in- telligent effort to bring them about. For we have seen in our second chapter that we have in our intelligence a sign of real creativeness which involves the modification of typical forms of activity ; and this again involves the ability to take an active part in the inhibition of our instincts, or in the transfer of their functioning into new channels. The first indication in our conscious life of any tendency to inhibit or modify the func- tioning of any instinct or habit must appear in the form of a dislike of, a revulsion from, the resultants of this functioning; and in the creation of an ideal of functioning that shall avoid the discomforts attendant upon this re- vulsion. And when such an ideal has once been gained it is possible, as we have seen, that the characteristics of Nature may be changed by our creative efficiency through THE LAW OF STRIFE 109 the devising of means looking to the realisa- tion of the ideal. It is clear, of course, that the process thus described may be applicable to the instinctive tendencies of man that make for war. And as a matter of fact we have the clearest evi- dence that this process is developing in con- nection with these special instincts; for we men and women in these later times are re- pelled by the results of the functioning of these fighting instincts, and have created an ideal of functioning that shall avoid the dis- comforts attendant upon this repulsion. We have created the ideal of peace, the concep- tion of a condition that is not now realised in Nature, but which we think of as possible of realisation. But we have seen in the preceding chapter that the very existence of an ideal is indica- tive of a tendency, on the part of the man who entertains it, to modify his characteris- tic activities. Thus it appears that we have in the very existence of this ideal of peace the evidence that we may look for a change in man's nature, the result of which will be 110 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE that we shall no longer be warranted in de- scribing him as a fighting animal. We are now able, I think, to perceive the advantage of our mode of approach. It has enabled us to see that we do not need to be crushed by despair when we view the facts that tell us without any measure of doubt that war is the outcome of inherited tenden- cies which cannot be eliminated. It has en- abled us to see that we are not bound on this account to assume an attitude of pessimism in relation to this matter of such deep con- cern to us, but rather that the very existence of the ideal of peace is an indication that we who entertain it are ourselves now engaged in an effort to recreate man so that he may no longer be properly described as a fighting animal. We are led thus, it seems to me, to assume once for all an optimistic attitude in regard to the eventual realisation of this ideal of peace. It may be well for us to pause here to say a word of those who ask us to see in the crea- tion of this ideal of peace a sign of deteriora- THE LAW OF STRIFE 111 tion; who tell us that war is in itself not an evil but a good. I do not refer here to the question raised as to the priority of the ideal of peace in the moral scale, which we shall consider later ; a question which leads some to hold that, as death is preferable to the quiescent abandon- ment of an individual's ideals, so war gains a high moral quality when it is waged to oppose oppression or aggression. I refer to those who tell us that war is necessary to the advance of man, who but for war would lose his virility and tendency to higher devel- opment ; that those who wish for peace make up a decadent part of the human race. Those who take this position are able to call attention to the fact that the existence of an instinctive tendency in any animal is in general a proof that the expressions of the instinct have had value to its race in the past ; and this must of course be granted. It must be agreed that warlike activities have had their values to the race of man in the course of his development. But when they tell us that this carries with it proof that the warlike expressions are still 112 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE of value to human kind, and cannot be elimi- nated without racial deterioration, we are led to pause. For we see that the nature of environmental conditions is as important a factor in relation to animal persistence and advance as is the nature of the animal's in- herited tendencies to action. If the condi- tions change, instinctive activities of a cer- tain kind that have been advantageous may well become altogether disadvantageous. The predatory instincts of the lion, for instance, which have led it to attack large animals, have been of value to it in the past; but as they have led it to attack man among other animals, they are now resulting in the exter- mination of its kind. It is fair, then, to ask whether it may not be true that, in the case of man, the condi- tions of life have changed so materially since the times when his instinctive fighting ten- dencies were formed, that these same ten- dencies are no longer of advantage to him. And if we consider the enormous advances made by man through friendly co-operation, in the relatively short period of his existence of which we have his racial record, we must THE LAW OF STRIFE 113 agree that there is at least a high degree of probability that such material changes in the conditions of human life have occurred. Those who take the position here con- sidered, although forced to agree to the pos- sibility that such a change of conditions may have reduced the value of war, nevertheless deny its probability. They ask us to review the historic record, and to note that eras of great warlike activity have also been eras of great cultural activity; pointing us to the accomplishments of the Greeks in their prime, for instance ; and to those of the Ital- ians in the tumultuous age of the Renais- sance. And they argue that the human qual- ities involved in the two forms of activity are necessarily inter-related. Surely it would be difficult to conjure up any more preposterously unscientific conten- tions than are involved in such an argument. Those who present them are obsessed by the false reading of history that contents itself with tales of great battles. They ask us to forget that at the times to which they refer wars were well nigh universal, so that such culture as arose must of necessity have ap- 114 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE peared in close relation with vigorous war- like activities. They ask ns, too, to overlook the fact that but a minimum of the peoples that have been conquerors in bitter war have displayed ten- dencies looking to the advance of culture, as would certainly not have been the case had war been essential to this advance. They would have us forget the sudden obliteration of such a highly developed civilisation as that of Crete, for instance, as the result of war. Did not this mere statement of fact suffice, the horrors of the present war are perhaps in themselves an adequate answer to any such theory. A race could surely not be said to be advancing, in any noble sense, that found its successive steps necessarily leading it through such seas of blood, and leaving in its train such depths of misery. But beyond this there is no adequate evi- dence whatever to support the view that ra- cial virility is bound up with warlike abilities. A large part of the greatest advances of our modern life have been initiated by men whose bodily infirmities would have rendered them THE LAW OF STRIFE 115 useless in battle; and on the other hand a large proportion of the fighting class are too dull and stupid to lead us to believe them capable of bringing about any advance in ra- cial accomplishment. These and like arguments of the apologists for war leave us unconvinced as to the valid- ity of their contentions; so we may assume, without further argument, that permanent peace, could it be maintained, would be a good; that our ideal of peace is a worthy ideal. n We have thus seen reason to hold that it is rational to assume an optimistic attitude in regard to the eventual realisation of this ideal of peace. But in the preceding chapter we have found our attention called to the dangers of an optimism that re- fuses to face the facts; an irrational opti- mism that tends to be replaced by the most hopeless pessimism when the facts are forced upon our attention. Now is it not true that we, as pacifists, have been irrational in our optimism? Have 116 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE we really faced the facts f I do not think we have. One of the most persistent of errors is found in the common notion that the conduct of man is, in the main, governed by intelli- gence. The modern psychologist warns us against this error. He shows us, as James put it, that man displays more instincts than any other animal. He begs us to note that a relatively small proportion of our activities are based upon rational guidance; that we are for the most part carried forward to our modes of action by forces which we make no effort whatever to control intelligently. It seems to me that most of our pacifists overlook this fact. They assume that the appeal to reason will in itself suffice to lead men to abandon war; that it will disappear if men can be brought to see that it is ir- rational. This conviction of unreasonable- ness, and the sentiment in opposition to war that it yields, are significant; but it is clear that the fighting proclivities of men can only be curbed by positive control. This will in- deed involve the guidance of intelligence; but if this guidance is to prove effective it IRRATIONAL OPTIMISM 117 must be aimed at the roots of the trouble, at the removal of the stimuli which serve to arouse the functioning of the instinctive ten- dencies ; must be aimed at the removal of sus- picion and hatred towards others. One finds running through the writings of the pacifists the assumption that if we could but bring to the attention of the common people a comprehension of the mere stupidity of war, they would be reasonable enough to oppose their leaders in their policies that lead to hostile action. I myself think this more than doubtful. Consider, for instance, the all but complete loyalty of the Social Democrats in Germany notwithstanding their avowed convictions as to the criminality of war. Again, we find the pacifist assuming that the ruling classes among the nations that now contend for mastery have been led to make war by clearly formulated conceptions of national need. I myself think this equally doubtful. On the contrary, governing pow- ers as a rule appear to initiate war under pressure that blinds them; the policies they proclaim being for the most part invented to 118 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE justify positions already taken, which they really begin to suspect are unjustifiable. All will agree that it is the commonest thing for man, in his pride of intellect, to boast that he has been moved to his con- duct by rational principles, when in reality these "principles" are invented in order that he may persuade himself and others that actions he has taken without forethought are worthy of a reasonable being. This habit of thought too often leads the members of our Governments to persuade themselves that they wage war in accord with reasoned-out policies, when they really allow themselves to be dominated by passions and ambitions ; the policies being invented after the fact for the purpose of sustaining hate in themselves and in the people they govern, and of gaming satisfaction in the encouragement of these hates, which, but for the complexity of mod- ern life, would have brought war long before the policies were thought of. We have a good illustration of this, in the case of the present war, in the contention of the Germans that the belligerent feeling ini- tiating the present catastrophe was based IRRATIONAL OPTIMISM 119 upon efforts by their enemies to thwart their legitimate commercial expansion ; and this in the face of the fact that their trade during the last forty years has increased by leaps and bounds in the very markets that they claim are " controlled" by those with whom they are now at war. But even if we assume that the masses of men are able to think as clearly as is com- monly supposed possible, we must not allow ourselves to overlook the fact that even among the civilised races the number of those who cling to this ideal of peace and interna- tional good will, is to-day but a small minor- ity. And this minority is within races which themselves form but a minority of the races of the earth as a whole. If we look upon the Christian religion as the embodiment of "peace on earth, good will toward men," then we are bound to agree that Christianity has scarcely yet begun to be established, even among those nations that profess to be guided by the teaching of Christ. Not until we have been able to im- press upon a large proportion of men the 120 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE value of this ideal of peace, ought we to ex- pect to find anything approaching complete success in our effort towards its realisation. Led, as we so generally are, by this erro- neous belief that man's acts are in the main governed by reason, we all too easily over- look the full significance of the fact that his acts are really in the main instinctive. We have disregarded, for instance, the fact that man fights instinctively, and have persistent- ly assumed that his tendencies to fight can be without difficulty obliterated if we once set about the task with full determination. We have blinded ourselves to the significance in this connection of the fact that as a very general rule instincts once given are not lost ; but that new and usually more elaborate in- stincts are built up, so to speak, out of the material furnished by the already existing instincts. Then, again, we cling without careful con- sideration to the notion that the deeply em- bedded characteristics of mankind may be quickly changed. But the studies of the bi- ologist prove to us conclusively that on the whole changes of racial habit are exceedingly IRRATIONAL OPTIMISM 121 slow. Even if we assume with a certain school that relatively radical "mutations" may arise and become a part of the equipment of the race, we must agree that such relative- ly radical changes occur but rarely, and do not often involve alterations that are more than relatively radical. Bearing this in mind, we then note that the ideal of peace that is held to be embodied in the teachings of Christ is one that appears to have been given to man but a moment ago, if we read the history of our race as it is told to us by modern science. How, then, can we look for a marked change in man's character- istic behaviour, which must correspond with this new mental attitude, in the course of a few thousand years f Most men of maturity are able to view the lives of five generations, from their grandparents to their grandchil- dren; and it does not occur to them that in that lapse of time through five generations any change whatever has taken place in hu- man nature. Yet five generations of men is approximately one whole twelfth of the num- ber of generations of thirty-three years each that have come and gone since the birth of 122 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE Christ. Why, then, should we assume, as we commonly do, that marked changes in man's nature may have occurred in that relatively short period of his racial life? Yes; when we face the facts we see that these fighting instincts are still in our blood, and are only restrained by the artificial modes of control that make civilisation what it is ; and but imperfectly controlled even by them. For this civilisation is in the very na- ture of the case but skin deep; leaving us, when relieved from its restraints, ever ready to fall back into savagery. This fact we have too carelessly overlooked. We have no right to expect that effort of ours can re- create the fighting man in any short period. Beyond this we have failed to appreciate the very important fact that racial instincts can only be modified in their functioning by habits of control gained by individuals. Had we kept this in mind we should have used every effort to bind with stronger chains, or to direct into new channels of expression, the fighting instincts as they develop in the individual human being. Far from discouraging these natural ten- IRRATIONAL OPTIMISM 123 dencies, however, we encourage them by the admiration we bestow upon the fighters of the world men like Caesar and Napoleon. More than that, we encourage the young of the fighting sex, in their very sports, to ri- valries that strengthen these fighting in- stincts. Again, while we teach the youth that it is a noble thing to control his sexual in- stincts, few of us think to teach him that it is an equally noble thing to control his fighting instincts. It is the commonest thing to hear parents urging their boys to be brave, and not to hesitate to fight with their companions. What wonder, then, that once in a genera- tion or so, those whose combative tendencies have been thus developed, and who have not felt the horrors of war, should be found in the majority, and should lead the minority to bloody strife. All will agree that the surest way to con- trol an instinctive tendency is found in the avoidance of the stimulus that usually arouses its expression. But we have failed to face the fact that the stimulus that most often leads to an outbreak of the functioning 124 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE of the individual's fighting instinct is given in the pressure of the still deeper instinct that leads the man to covet, and to strive to obtain for himself the possessions of others. Deeply rooted in human nature this cov- etousness truly is. But that it may be curbed is seen in the very fact that social com- munities have developed ; for they could not exist but for the control of this instinctive tendency. "We have blinded ourselves, how- ever, to the fact that if we would root out war this covetousness of the individual must also be controlled in relation to what belongs to other social communities than his own. We have not combated with full conviction the commercial exploitation of the weaker peo- ples. Nor do we attempt to break down the very primitive tendency which leads the individual to be ready to attribute aggressive intentions to other clans than his own. We do not make strenuous effort, as we should, to avoid the attribution of evil intention to other peoples. We do not attempt to crush out suspicion, which leads to unwarranted hates, which must usually end in war. Nor do we endea- IRRATIONAL OPTIMISM 125 vour to repress the present form of the very primitive tendency of the average man to act aggressively against another clan when he sees in such action advantage to his own clan. We still encourage a morbid patriotism. We are too often led by, and in fact not seldom hear expressed without any adequate revul- sion of feeling, the sentiment, "My country, right or wrong." In my view we shall never be able to realise our ideal of peace until we strike at the very roots of war: until we keep clearly in mind that our efforts must be directed towards the control of the fighting instincts of the human individual, and of all that tends to stimulate its expression in the individual. The arma- ments of the Governments are built to satisfy the individual that he has weapons at his command that he himself could not construct. It seems to me that it is merely because our pacifists have been thus irrational in their optimism that so many of them are brought to the verge of despair by this present war. Bui surely its occurrence really gives us no good reason to adopt a pessimistic attitude in 126 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE regard to the realisation of our ideal of peace. Were our field of vision no wider than that of our ancestors of but a few hun- dred years ago, it might appear reasonable to abandon in relation to this ideal the attitude of rational optimism defended in our preceding chapter. But we have gained a broader outlook, and one that enables us to resolve to press on with renewed courage to- wards the attainment of our ideal. We see indeed that we have allowed our hope of its speedy realisation to blind us to certain facts that should have been impressed upon us by the very lessons we have learned in connec- tion with this gain of a broader outlook. We must agree that we have been led to look for too speedy a realisation of our ideal by our failure to grasp the significance of the forces with which we have to cope; but we do not find reason to despair. m We have been dwelling thus upon the im- portance of facing certain facts which should guard us from an irrational optimism ; let us now, however, turn our attention to certain THE GROUNDS FOR HOPE 127 other facts that yield no little encourage- ment. It is true that instincts once given can very rarely, if ever, be eliminated; but the study of biology, as we have seen, shows us that it is equally true that specific instincts may be transformed in their functioning. It is true, as I have already remarked, that fundamen- tal changes in the nature of instinctive re- actions must usually be very gradual indeed ; but on the other hand we see ample evidence throughout Nature that what amount to sud- den changes do occur, arising because grad- ual changes have led to an accumulation of influences that become predominant, and then suddenly gain efficiency. It seems to me that there are many signs that the time is ripe for just such a relatively sudden change in regard to war; a change which will involve, not the obliteration of our fighting instincts indeed, but the chaining of them, or the diversion of their functioning into new channels. /J. We all realise that the advance of man is * co-ordinate with social consolidation; with 128 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE an interlocking of interests ; with the growth of, and appreciation of the importance of, co- operative effort. Now all must agree that there has been in modern times an enormous broadening and strengthening of this co- operation among individuals in diverse walks of life, and among different races. More and more are men, in our time, feeling that it is vital to them that they should work together. We see this exemplified very markedly in all matters commercial, especially in the realm of finance. In fact, so closely are these financial interests interlocked nowadays that the people of the United States, who are in no way responsible for this war, will be com- pelled to pay indirectly no small proportion of its cost. It is certainly within reason to hope for such a strengthening of this bond for such an emphasis of commercial co-operation rather than of commercial rivalry as will break down the danger of the initiation of aggressive wars instituted in the interest of general commercial expansion, or of such special commercial enterprises as tempt our THE GROUNDS FOR HOPE 129 people to-day as they look upon the undevel- oped riches of China. We see the same growth of co-operative tendencies in the friendly intercourse of the philosophers and scientists of many lands; in the establishment of scientific and philo- sophical international Congresses; and in many other directions. But in this appreciation of the values of confidential co-operation the leaders in diplo- macy and political management have fallen far behind. They have failed to keep pace with the general advance of the civilised races in this direction. That they will con- tinue to remain thus behind, however, is scarcely conceivable. They must speedily make some substantial advance in accord with the general movement. We may not be believers in Socialism ; we may even reject, as I myself do, a large part of the doctrines it teaches : but we cannot fail to see that we have in the widespread growth of Socialism the conviction of a vast body of intelligent men that our political life must be- come co-operative; that diplomacy must be- come free from subterfuge and deceit; and 130 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE that international comity must be strength- ened. Q^erfJ- ' It is true that man is led to war mainly by instinctive pressure; but it is also true, as we have seen, that the beginnings of effective control of instinctive tendencies may be found in intelligent effort to eliminate the stimuli which arouse the instinctive reaction. These beginnings are evidenced in the growth of sentiments; and if the growth of senti- ments antagonistic to war may be taken as the sign of a tendency which may lead to the rational control above mentioned, we must surely see reason to look for a somewhat rapid movement looking to its abandonment. Consider for a moment one important indica- tion that a relatively sudden change is im- pending in this direction. Whichever way our sympathies may move in relation to the present war, is it not very striking that the issues as formulated are new issues ? There is no difficulty in pointing back to relatively recent times in the his- tories of the different nations allied against Germany when neutral rights have been care- THE GROUNDS FOR HOPE 131 lessly violated. The significant fact is that in the opposition to such action in this case there is indication of so widespread a con- viction that a new form of political morality is called for. This is evidenced also in the eagerness of each and every combatant to disclaim respon- sibility for the initiation of this present war, of which I shall speak more at length in our last chapter. Such disclaimers have been little known to belligerents in the past, who have generally looked upon aggressive war as a matter of credit rather than of discredit. ^M Again, it is difficult for us to realise how late in the history of man is the acquisition of those sentiments adverse to war, so very general in our day, which are based upon man's repulsion from the immediate torture it entails. For untold ages he has seemed to think lightly of war's horrors. He appears to have but just awakened to the realisation of the fact that they far out-balance any pos- sible gains it can bring. Not until 1792 was organised effort made to mitigate these hor- rors by the establishment of ambulance ser- vices on the field ; and the Geneva Convention L 132 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE that founded the beneficent Red Cross was held only fifty-one years ago. But note how rapid has been the development of this move- ment in the last five decades. In like manner, it is only in late times that men have thought to count the cost of war in resultant misery and monetary loss, and to balance this against the supposed ben- efit attained; with the result that they be- gin to look upon war as stupid rather than glorious. Admirable as is Norman Angell's book "The Great Illusion," it must be seen that it could not have appeared to be so strik- ing and effective had not the masses of think- ing people been quite unprepared for the thesis it maintains. Another indication of this rapid spread of sentiments opposed to war is of course found in the far-seeing efforts that have led in very late decades to the establishment of the Hague tribunals, and the signing of arbitra- tion treaties by the greater Nations. As we have seen, the tendency to change the manifestations of man's instinctive na- ture by rational foresight is indicated by his THE GROUNDS FOR HOPE 133 creation of ideals, and his effort to realise these ideals. Now this, of all ages, is the age of idealisms. No other time has seen such manifestations of the recognition of man's creative capacity in measures of reform. In every land, among all types of people, we find springing up the most varied of ideals, some trivial and foolish, some noble and wise. All this surely goes to show that we are living in the beginning of a new era when man by his intelligent effort will gain great triumphs in the control of his hitherto non-rationalised activities ; that he will be able to realise such of his ideals as are clearly of racial advan- tage: and surely one of these is our ideal of peace. We find further encouragement when we compare the varied ideals of peace enter- tained to-day with earlier forms of this ideal. The first ideal of peace was in all probability devised by the savage, who could have given it no broader application than that involved in the opposition to wars of aggression for the sake of pure pillage. From this early stage its field of application has gradually been broadened: first to cover the reproba- 134 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE tion of all wars of aggression whatsoever; and then to include with these certain forms of non-aggressive wars ; until during the last two thousand years a very dignified part of mankind has come to apply it in the broadest sense, which leads to opposition to wars of every sort and description, defensive as well as offensive; an application that could not possibly have been conceived of by the early savage. This fact certainly points to a steady advance towards enduring peace; and the open defence, in late centuries, of the senti- ment favourable to this ideal of widest appli- cation is certainly a sign favourable to the view that the steps towards its realisation may be more rapid in the near future than they have been in the past. And finally consider one more point. It has been frequently noted that in a general way the steps in the development of the so- cial life of man correspond with, although they drag after, the steps in the development of the life of the individual.* We thus look for a general drift of the development of * For a study of the limitations of this conception confer my "Consciousness," Chapter vii. THE GROUNDS FOR HOPE 135 sentiments in relation to social matters in a manner co-ordinate with the drift of the de- velopment of sentiments in relation to cor- responding matters of individualistic signi- ficance. If, then, we consider the close relation be- tween the fighting tendencies of the individ- ual man and his tendencies to fight as a member of a social group in war, we not un- naturally look to the development of senti- ments in relation to war in an order similar to the development in the past of sentiments in relation to violent attack of individual upon individual. The tendencies of the savage individual to murder have been gradually chained, until to-day the civilised man scarcely feels the influence of these tendencies. And a marked parallel can be discerned between the steps by which this change has been accomplished and those found in the development of the conceptions that have prevailed in relation to war. In relation to murder we note the change from the prevalence of direct personal attack to satisfy greed or revenge, to the arrest of 136 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF 'PEACE this mode of attack and the establishment of judicial systems to guard the interests of justice, and if need be to punish. In relation to war we note, long after the like processes occurred in relation to murder, the change from the day when men openly carried on war to satisfy national greed and revenge, to our time when the nations in- volved indignantly repel the suggestion that either greed or revenge has led them to war. And we see the present beginnings of the formation of codes of international justice by steps quite comparable with the far-away be- ginnings of legal forms relating to individu- als; and the effort to institute international courts quite similar to the early efforts in- volved in the establishment of our judicial machinery relative to the crime of individ- uals. It is very easy to carry too far attempts to judge of the nature of the activities of so- cial groups by comparison with the modes of action of individuals within the group ; never- theless these corresponding developments in the past of which we have thus spoken should surely lead us to look for similarly corre- THE GROUNDS FOR HOPE 137 spending developments in the future, and to ask what these are likely to be. In relation to murder we find, long after the establishment of a sentiment that led men to hold personal attack of an enemy to be in general unwarranted, a lingering notion that certain cases, where a man's personal honour is involved, can only be met by the contest of the duel. So in regard to war we have reached a stage where there exists a strong sentiment that war is inexcusable ex- cept where questions of national honour are at stake. The development of man's senti- ments in relation to the duel are therefore sig- nificant as indications of the probable devel- opment of his sentiments in the future in re- lation to war. Before the duel was devised murder was usually attempted at the moment of provoca- tion without warning, and with every effort to gain the advantage of first attack. This mode of procedure was gradually displaced. The duellist came to feel himself dishonoured un- less he gave his opponent full warning through seconds, and showed no inclination to take unfair advantage of him. 138 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE So the sudden and ruthless attack in war has been generally displaced by attack only after giving formal declaration of war. It is looked upon as barbarous to bombard a city without giving due notice of the intention to do so. The duel, which was originally fought un- til one of the contestants was killed, has in modern days become more and more per- functory. The mere first wound has come to be looked upon as a sufficient satisfaction to both parties ; and this has been carried so far nowadays that the duel has become a subject of ridicule. So wars which were in early days fought to a finish, ending in the crushing out of the national life of the defeated opponent, have become more and more perfunctory. At the first signs of signal defeat the neutral na- tions step forward, like the seconds of the duellists, to prevent the continuance of the war. The blotting out of the national life of the loser has come to be looked upon as a na- tional crime; and the contestants in general willingly agree that national honour has been satisfied on both sides in the mere fact that brave fighting has occurred. THE GROUNDS FOR HOPE 139 But the appreciation of the ridiculous na- ture of the modern duel has led men of the higher type to see that on the whole it is best to leave even questions of supposed personal honour to the decision of judicial procedure. Does not this strongly indicate that at no distant day civilised mankind in general will come to see clearly that the wasteful energies of war are ridiculous in themselves, and will agree to the establishment of a full-fledged international judiciary to which all cases of international disagreement, even those in- volving national honour, shall be referred ? Surely, then, we have the very strongest ground for hope. We cannot escape the charge of being led by an irrational optimism until we face the facts as they exist. We see that the road we must travel may not impos- sibly be longer than we might wish. But, on the other hand, the goal does certainly seem to be in sight ; and we have reason to believe that if we maintain our courage our ideal of peace will at no too distant day be realised. CHAPTER V THE MORAL AND RELIGIOUS ISSUES A LAEGE proportion of those who cling to the ideal of peace, and feel that they are justi- fied in the entertainment of a rational opti- mism in regard to its realisation, look upon war in itself as immoral. Not only do they condemn it because it serves to let loose the basest of human passions which result in the commission of immoral acts, but beyond that it appeals to them as intrinsically immoral. When, however, we look back at the history of thought we find not a few leading moral teachers who have felt no such repugnance towards war on moral grounds ; and this nat- urally leads us to ask whether in fact we are justified in thus looking tipon war as im- moral. Before we attempt to answer such a ques- tion, however, we are led to inquire whether we are warranted in applying the category 140 MORAL AND RELIGIOUS ISSUES 141 of morality or immorality to war at all. War is initiated by States ; the individual men that fight being merely their instruments. Yet we become accustomed to think of States as quasi-personal entities ; we find men actually speaking of an ' ' international mind. ' ' Noting then that the morality of the human indi- vidual is enforced by a power above him, while the hypothetical international person- ality is not, we are inclined to listen to cer- tain thinkers who declare that as a quasi-per- sonality the State is non-moral ; or to others who hold that it has a morality of its own, which is, however, on a different plane from the morality of human individuals. I should hesitate very much to believe that Spinoza wrote more than figuratively, rather than with any idea of maintaining the quasi- personal existence of the State ; but in any event he appears to have had in mind the attribution of diverse types of morality to States and to human individuals when he said:* "Liberty or fortitude is the private virtue of the soul, but the virtue of the State is security." "Tractatus Politicua," Cap. 1, 6. 142 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE And to turn to our contemporaries, Presi- dent Carl Eunge of Gottingen University might perhaps disclaim belief in the personal nature of the State; yet in a late open let- ter* he quotes from Bismarck: "The right of the German nation to live and to breathe in unison undivided must not be judged accord- ing to the principles of civil law"; and adds for himself the significant words, "There is a higher standard of justice for nations than for individuals." This is a view that shocks those of us who look upon war as intrinsic- ally immoral. When we consider the matter with care, however, we see that we must abandon alto- gether this conception of the State as a per- sonality closely comparable with a human in- dividual. While we may be inclined to agree that in correspondence with the activities of a social group there may exist a social con- sciousness, we must hold that it must be of a low type of organisation as compared with human consciousness ; and, in any event, that we as parts of it cannot be in a position to Answer to address of President Nicholas Murray Butler, printed in New York Times January 5, 1915. MORAL AND RELIGIOUS ISSUES 143 judge of its characteristics as a whole; can- not know of any such quality as its morality or immorality.* For after all morality, as we know it, is a characteristic of human in- dividuals, and it is with such human individ- uals that we have to deal when we ask whether war is, or is not, immoral. The question is thus brought home to each of us personally; for we realise that States are made up of individual human beings, and that it is through the action of individual men and women that war is waged. Thus although, when we think of the action of States in the abstract, we come to consider it quite academic to look upon war as im- moral, we cannot feel so when we begin to realise that war is initiated by individuals all of whose acts involve moral problems. It is natural for us, therefore, to find our thoughts in this connection turning to our own moral life. And I shall beg indulgence if in the beginning I remind the reader of some quite elementary facts in relation to his own personal moral experience. In the first place, it will be well to recall Confer my /Consciousness," pp 173 ff. 144 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE one point made in our study of the nature of ideals in Chapter III. There it will be re- membered we noted that our concept of good is an ideal, and as such is self -created. The morally good, being a special form of the good, is thus also to be considered as an ideal of our own an ideal that is created by each one of us for him or herself. Taking this point of view, we observe that we never think of our acts as good or bad at the moment of our act; we think of them as good or bad only in reflection. In reflection we consider the nature of the impulses that guide us. Some of these impulses we note are momentary. Others are persistent. Acts resulting from impulses that appear to be most enduring in reflection we call morally good. Those resulting from impulses that contravene these enduring impulses we call bad. The significance of this fact will appear later. The morally good is thus an ideal which is based upon our observation of our inner im- pulses. Those acts of our own which we call morally good are such as we find to conform to an ideal within ourselves; an ideal which MORAL AND RELIGIOUS ISSUES 145 results from the observation of the stability of certain impulses found within us at the time we judge the act to be good. So again, in attributing moral goodness to other men, we picture to ourselves the impulses that probably guided them; and imagining these impulses as our own, we judge the conduct of these other men to be morally good or bad if our own conduct would have been felt to be good or bad had we been led by the im- pulses we attribute to these other men. Whenever we pass a moral judgment, whenever we say an act was morally good or bad, we are thus dealing with ideals of our own. To be sure, a large proportion of our ideals, as we have seen, appear to be given to us, or even forced upon us, by tradition, custom, or education; and this is true of our moral ideals. Tradition and custom attach good- ness to politeness. Our teachers from earli- est youth lead us to attribute moral goodness to honesty and to truth-telling. But these traditional moral ideals, like all traditional ideals, must, as we have also seen, have had their initiation in the ideals of in- dividual men ; each of them must at one time have been created by a self. And even as pressed upon us, they demand our personal welcome or rejection through volitional acts. These traditional moral ideals are of course of the greatest moment; but much more important to us, and much more signifi- cant as indicative of our spontaneity, are those moral ideals which we quite consciously make for ourselves ; ideals which we create as we advance in moral culture; this resulting in a tendency to make permanent, and real, those of our inner impulses which look to the realisation of these ideals. We cannot be called truly moral beings until we recreate for ourselves the ideals given to us by tradi- tion, custom, and education; until we are polite because we have learned to love our neighbours as ourselves; until we are no longer honest merely because honesty is the best policy. The height of moral goodness is indeed found only in the recognition of new ideals of our own making which appear within us in opposition to traditional ideals, or to other of our own already existing ideals new MORAL AND RELIGIOUS ISSUES 147 ideals which we render permanent by acts of volition. The strong swimmer who instinc- tively dashes into the surf to save a drowning man reaches no such height of moral good- ness as the weak swimmer, who does not find himself instinctively led to dash into the sea, but nevertheless does dash in ; for in so doing he conquers his self-preservative impulses, and faces known danger in making the at- tempt to save a life. The youth who, having long looked forward to a legal career, vol- untarily quenches his ambition in order that he may maintain in comfort his family sud- denly bereft of its means of support, reaches a higher moral plane than one who, without any such ambition, assumes the support of his family with little self-sacrifice. In other words, we rise to the highest moral plane when we make permanent for ourselves by voluntary acts by our own creative spontaneity moral ideals which stand opposed to already existing ideals, whether these be traditional or self -created. The fact that the morality of a given act, or set of acts, is a matter of individual de- termination, is a very significant one. We 148 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE may cling to the conception of an absolute morality which we aim to attain ; but even if we assume the existence of such an end, we see that in actual life it can only be ap- proached by our own creation of standards of what is moral and what immoral. This involves the existence, in men of dif- ferent types, of such diversities of view as to the nature of right and wrong as are familiar to all of us. And it indicates that growth in morality can come only through the contest between the moral ideals of individuals, and the persistence of those that advancing man finds of greatest and most permanent value. If all this is true, then it is apparent that the question as to whether war is, or is not, to be looked upon as immoral is a matter of each person's own determination. If he creates for himself an ideal of peace, and looks upon peace as a condition favourable to moral advance, then in that very fact war becomes for him immoral. We are thus at once led to understand how it is that there exist such wide diversities of view in relation to the immorality of war. MORAL AND RELIGIOUS ISSUES 149 The man who entertains no ideal of peace at all will of course see no immorality whatever in war. On the other hand, we must expect to find, among those who do entertain this ideal of peace, diverse views as to the width of application of immorality to war corre- sponding with such differences as may be found in the width of application of the ideal of peace. The crudest ideal of peace must have been one that led the reformer among the savages to preach the immorality of war undertaken purely and simply for the sake of pillage and rapine. For him all other forms of war may well have been thought to be thoroughly moral. A later and broader ideal of peace would lead the reformer to reprobate wars of ag- gression unless these aggressive wars seemed necessary to the realisation of the current ideals of tribal expansion ; which latter, how- ever, he would not look upon as immoral. We still have with us in our day the "jingo," whose ideal of peace is little removed from that of this early savage. A still broader ideal of peace would lead 150 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE the reformer to classify all wars of aggres- sion as immoral if they were fought against men of his own habits of action and ways of thinking, but would give moral sanction to wars undertaken to force upon other nations the valued characteristics of his own civilisa- tion. The entertainment of such an ideal has led to the waging of religious wars without number ; and we all know how cruel have been the wars made in the name of the advance of Christianity. It has led again to wars looking to the enforcement of commer- cial intercourse upon people who have preferred isolation. It leads men to-day to say that China has no right to hold undevel- oped her vast mineral resources, which might serve those of civilisations alien to hers ; and that a war against her for the purpose of forcing her to allow the development of these resources would be a moral war. A still broader ideal of peace is that which attaches immorality to any war of aggression of any type whatsoever; but which attaches morality to warlike resistance to aggression. This ideal is held by many noble souls to-day. We have an example in the Belgian Cardinal MORAL AND RELIGIOUS ISSUES 151 Mercier, who in his celebrated pastoral in relation to the present war tells his people: "The religion of Christ makes patriotism a positive law; there is no perfect Christian who is not also a perfect patriot. . . . Patriotism is a sacred thing: a violation of national dignity is in a manner a profana- tion and a sacrilege. . . . Our king is, in the esteem of all, at the very summit of the moral scale. . . . Which of us would have the heart to cancel this last page of our na- tional history? Which of us does not exult in the brightness of the glory of this shat- tered nation?" And finally we reach the broadest of all ideals of peace, which leads the reformer to reprobate all war as such, even when it is undertaken merely to oppose unwarranted aggression; an ideal which involves the be- lief that the highest of moral ideals will finally come to prevail only if no resistance is offered even to oppression. This was the ideal represented in the life of Christ as it is interpreted, for instance, by the Society of Friends commonly known as Quakers, and by the disciples of Tolstoi. 152 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE It is clear that this broadening of the ap- plication of the ideal of peace has occurred pari passu with man's advance ; and that cor- respondingly the conception of the immoral- ity of war has gained significance. It seems highly probable, therefore, that in the end the broadest of the ideals above referred to will be very generally accepted. We cannot expect it to be accepted, how- ever, without a long contest. Each step as above sketched must have involved a cour- ageous attitude in, and no little danger to, the reformer. The savage who first opposed a war of pillage was probably treated as a coward, or at least looked upon as what men of our day would call a * ' mollycoddle. ' ' The reformer who proclaimed the immorality of a religious war did so at the risk of fortune or life. The ''jingo" of to-day heaps con- tumely upon the man who opposes him; and the peaceful nation that is not armed to the teeth still runs some risk of attack by the aggressor. But this risk must be taken if the broadest of all these ideals of peace is finally to be realised. Christ refused to allow His followers to MORAL AND RELIGIOUS ISSUES 153 defend Him with the sword. He elected to die rather than surrender a jot or tittle of His ideals, which His enemies thought they had forever crushed, but which we see begin- ning to spread over the whole earth. In any event, whether our ideal of peace be broad or narrow, we may at once settle this one point. If we are firm in clinging to this ideal and are equally firm in our own conviction that war within certain limits, narrow or broad, is immoral, then we are warranted in using all our endeavour as moral beings to press upon others the view we maintain for ourselves. For only by such pressure can moral ideals of any 1 type be made to prevail. Only in this manner can we hope to use ethical means to enforce the ideal of peace. n But many of us go farther than this. We not only think that war is immoral, but feel that it is intrinsically irreligious as well. Here, however, we are led to pause when we look back at the ages, and note the willing- ness of men of old to make war part of their 154 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE religion. To a very great extent the gods of the ancients were war gods. It may be said perhaps by some that one of the most distinct marks of the superiority of the Christian religion over all others lies just in the fact that it is a religion of peace. We think of it indeed as the very embodi- ment of the ideal of peace. And so it is theoretically; but practically we know that some of the bloodiest wars have been waged in the name of the Christian religion; and even in modern days we are shocked by the call made upon the God the Christian wor- ships to champion the cause of the aggressor in war. When, however, we ask why we are shocked by this evidence that war which we look upon as immoral is not so considered by men of deeply religious tendencies, we are led to note that we are thus disturbed because we assume that religion yields morality; as- sume that the attainment of the religious experience the ' ' getting of religion, ' ' as the revivalist puts it involves the direct attain- ment of a higher moral standard. How gen- eral this view is we find evidenced in the very MORAL AND RELIGIOUS ISSUES 155 fact that many a man rejects religion be- cause he sees clear proof that it does not give its devotees so high a moral standard as his own, and thus fails to make good what he thinks the pretensions of religion to be. This case of the devotion to immoral war among religious men thus appears to be but a special case among many others that run counter to the generally accepted notion that religion in itself involves a high moral stand- ard. But it is very evident upon the most cur- sory study that, whatever the relation be- tween morality and religion may be, it is not of such a nature that the "getting of re- ligion" carries with it the direct attainment of a higher moral standard than that held be- fore the moment of conversion. This is made clear by the acts of many sincerely religious men. We may take as an extreme example the very religious negro who is ever ready to steal, and to commit other grosser crimes. The man who con- trolled the vicious Louisiana lottery is said to have been a deeply religious person who would not allow cards to be played in his 156 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE house, because he, with his church leaders, thought card-playing immoral. But we need go no further, for we all know of illustra- tions among people of our own type. We, however, may grant that this notion is unwarranted, and yet not rest satisfied; for the very fact that thoughtful people do so generally expect the religious life to yield a high standard of morals is significant, showing how intimate the relation referred to is felt to be. Naturally, then, we ask, What is the basis of, and the nature of this relation between morality and religion? And to this question we may turn our attention before going farther. I have already spoken of a number of characteristics of the moral attitude. There is, however, a special and important manner in which our moral ideals are brought to our notice that has not been mentioned thus far. I refer to what we speak of as the warnings of conscience. We all appreciate by experience what is meant when one speaks of the voice of con- science ; and we realise how important it is, if X" MORAL AND RELIGIOUS ISSUES 157 we are to advance in our moral life, that its dictates should not be hushed or carelessly over-ridden. We seldom, however, stop to ask what the nature of this voice of con- science is. Charles Darwin, to whom we owe so much, did not often turn to psychological analysis ; but in his brief study of the origin of the moral sentiments he made a very notable con- tribution to ethical theory, the importance of which has been very generally overlooked. The voice of conscience, he taught us, is due to the demand for recognition made by rela- tively permanent impulses of moderate strength, in opposition to the pressure of less important impulses which are momentarily of very great strength. For instance, the immediate very power- ful impulse to strike one's enemy, with hand or tongue, is met by the demand of the mo- mentarily less powerful, and yet more per- manent, impulses which would lead us to sympathetic kindness. And the voice of con- science tells us not to strike ; or if we strike without waiting for its guidance this con- science "smites us," as we say, when we re- 158 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE fleet upon our action after the deed is done. It is evident that these more permanent, even if less powerful, impulses must in gen- eral point to better results than those more forcible, but merely momentary, impulses; for otherwise they would not have gained this relative permanency. The impulse to strike an enemy is far less significant in our life than the impulse to kindliness and sym- pathy. And in general, then, we may say that it is of the highest importance that we inhibit, or repress, the expression of the more power- ful momentary impulses, until the less power- ful, but more persistent, impulses can make themselves heard in the still small voice of conscience. Now in my view it is just in the fact that our religious experiences foster the restraint which permits the voice of conscience to be heard, and enforces its commands, that we have the most profound significance of re- ligion, and the meaning of its relation to our moral life. In order to indicate the ground we have for reaching this conclusion, let us consider MORAL AND RELIGIOUS ISSUES 159 briefly the nature of that very complex hu- man mode of thought and action which we speak of as the religious life.* We may best reach firm ground here by inquiring as to the essential nature of the religious experience. In doing this we can- not look only into our own experience; we must note that the religious attitude is at- tained by all sorts and conditions of men ; by savages and civilised people; by those who have what we call low standards of morality, as well as by those who have what we call high standards. In other words, we must try to take account of all types and "varieties of religious experience," as William James aimed to do in his famous book under that title; we must use our own individual ex- perience merely as a mode of interpretation of the religious experiences of men at large. But as soon as we attempt to do this we are met by the fact that only a limited num- ber of people whom we might question are sufficiently skilled in introspection to tell us clearly of the nature of their own experiences For a full study of this subject confer my "Instinct and Reason." 160 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE of the religious life. Furthermore, we per- ceive that we must take into account the re- ligious experiences of members of the less civilised races, who find it very difficult to communicate to us the nature of their inner life, and even of the savages, who are en- tirely unable to do so. And beyond that, if we are to make anything like a complete study, we ought to take into consideration the experience of the peoples who are dead and gone, but whose records give evidence that they were most profoundly religious. How can we do this? Certainly not by careful consideration of the doctrines that are commonly looked upon as essential re- ligious elements ; for the doctrines taught by religious teachers among the very early peoples are all but entirely unknown to us, and those inculcated among the savages are with great difficulty comprehended by us. Furthermore, even when we study the doc- trines preached by religious leaders in our own time, among people whom we may cross- examine directly, we discover the very great- est variety of dogmas deemed to be es- MORAL AND RELIGIOUS ISSUES 161 sential by the representatives of diverse sects, among all of whom the most sincere re- ligious devotion is evidenced. No, it is clear that the essence of religion is not to be found by a study of its dogmas, however important these dogmas may be found to be in the attainment and mainte- nance of the religious life. In fact, it appears certain, when we come to study the subject, that these doctrines and dogmas have been devised by men, not as a basis of the estab- lishment of religious experience, but in the attempt to make this religious experience harmonise with the rest of their experience ; to make already existing religious expres- sions which yield this experience appear ra- tional, that the devotees may satisfy their own minds, and convince those who hesitate, that the attainment of the religious attitude is desirable. Religion is intuitive, and is much deeper than mere dogma, which is distinctly intel- lectual. Whither, then, shall we turn in our quest for the essential nature of religion? Pos- 162 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE sibly we may gain some insight by the study of the outward expressions of religious feel- ing which religious dogmas attempt to ex- plain in terms of rational conceptions; ex- pressions which are equally well studied among ourselves, and the less civilised, and the savage; and almost as well even among the peoples of the dim past who have left more or less perfect record of their modes of expressing their religious feelings, even when they have left no indication of the doctrines inculcated in connection with them. We would turn thus in our quest for the essence of religion to a study of the basic elements that are necessarily connected with the very varied forms of action by which re- ligious men express their religious feelings, asking, What is the significance of religious expression? When we undertake this investigation we discover that some forms of this religious expression are, and have been, very general and widespread; although the ceremonials and doctrines in connection with which they are, and have been, developed differ in many MORAL AND RELIGIOUS ISSUES 163 particulars. We find among such common forms of religious expression, for instance, asceticism, fasting, penance, sacrifice, celi- bacy, prayer. Asceticism involves voluntary assumption of conditions that necessarily exclude the individual from the stimuli of the complex life in which he was born. Buddha, John the Baptist, Christ for forty days, St. Francis of Assisi, and countless saints among sav- age and civilised peoples alike, have ex- pressed their religious devotion by ascet- icism. Fasting, again, is a form of religious ex- pression that has been very common among all religious devotees, although less common among the races of the world to-day. Closely related to fasting are the varied forms of self-torture covered by the general term penance. Sacrifice, in one way or another, involves the giving up of what is considered desirable by the religious devotee; and celibacy is a special form of self-sacrifice. Prayer, however, is by far the most gen- eral of all forms of religious expression ; be- 164 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE ing undertaken by itself alone, or in connec- tion with asceticism, fasting, and penance. It is, in my view, the most significant of all forms of religious expression. The mental attitude gained in prayer may indeed be held to be typical of all religious experience. It would be possible to mention many other forms of religious expression initiatory tortures and other services but enough ex- amples of the most important types have been given to serve our purpose. When we consider these typical forms of religious expression we note that all of them, if viewed biologically, appear as habits of action that have been acquired by, and have become established in, the race as modes of human behaviour. If, then, taking a biolog- ical point of view, we consider these habits of religious expression in themselves, it seems clear that they could not have become established because of any intrinsic attrac- tiveness to the savage individual who first un- dertook them. In themselves, asceticism, fasting, penance, and celibacy must have been unattractive to the early man who first ac- quired these habits of religious expression. MORAL AND RELIGIOUS ISSUES 165 Sacrifice must have been distasteful; and habits of action connected with prayer in themselves could not have been more than neutral, never essentially interesting. Moreover, these modes of religious expres- sion must have been not merely unattractive to the early man, but, if persisted in by the savage individual, must have tended to his immediate personal disadvantage. Ascet- icism, penance, and fasting weakened him, and put him, for the moment at least, out of the glorified class of victorious warriors. Celibacy cut him off from that tribal influ- ence which went with the birth to him of those who could aid his tribal aspirations. Prayer put him in an attitude of non-alert- ness, which might well be fatal to him in his barbarous surroundings. But beyond this unattractiveness, and actual disadvantage, to the individual, these forms of religious expression must have been distinctly disadvantageous to the race in the individual member of which they appeared. Asceticism, penance, fasting, tended to weak- en the man, and to lessen his worth as a combatant. And prayer had a similar ten- 166 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE dency to lessen his immediate value in offence and defence ; for, as I have said, it involved attitudes in which alertness was impossible. Celibacy, if carried to extremes, would of course lead to the swift obliteration of the tribe. Evidently, then, the tribes in which these habits had become fixed would be at a disad- vantage in the struggle for persistence, un- less these modes of expression carried with them certain indirect advantages in the con- tests of life to offset this unattractiveness to the individual, and this individualistic and racial disadvantage. Had this not been true the races in which these habits tended to be- come fixed would have been eliminated in the strife for survival. Now what can this essentially advantage- ous characteristic have been? We have the best chance of finding it if we ask ourselves what is common to all the notable modes of religious expression just referred to. And when we do so, we discover at once that they, one and all, tend to prevent the religious man from immediate reactions to the usual stimuli in the world about him. Celibacy cuts one off MORAL AND RELIGIOUS ISSUES 167 from the strongest incentives to enter the active life; and the asceticism of which it is a special form very evidently tends to prevent immediate reactions to the stimuli which press the ordinary man to instant re- sponse. Penance and fasting have the same tendencies. But prayer, which is the most notable of all religious expressions, most certainly shows this characteristic of the in- hibition of immediate reactions to the stimuli reaching the religious devotee from the world about him. We may say, then, that, in restraint from immediate reaction to the ordinary stimuli coming to the average man, we have found in any event a very marked characteristic of all the most important modes of religious expression. Religious expressions involve restraint. With this thought in mind let us again turn our attention to the fact that by general agreement religious experience has to do with moral experience. This moral experience, as we have seen, arises in connection with our observation of 168 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE the nature of our inner impulses. We are thus led to ask what characteristic of our in- ner experience is necessarily correlated with the restraint from immediate reactions which we find the essential characteristic of re- ligious expression. When we ask this question we at once re- call that it is this restraint from immediate reaction which brings into our experience the voice of conscience, which, as we have seen, is a prompting within us due to the efficiency of more permanent impulses which are un- able to gain ascendency so long as we allow ourselves to be swayed by those im- pulses which, though less permanent, are more powerful. Restraint involves the emphasis of con- science. It thus seems clear at once that religious expression in repressing man's tendency to immediate reaction to the powerful stimuli reaching him from the world in which he lives, must necessarily tend to emphasise within him the voice of conscience ; and that the acquisition of habits of religious expres- sion must carry with it a tendency to listen MORAL AND RELIGIOUS ISSUES 169 to the guidance of this inner voice; must strengthen within the religious man a sense of the importance of its dictates. This as clearly points to the conclusion that the essen- tial value of religious expression lies in the fact that it involves an emphasis of restraint, which brings into being the voice of con- science, which then gains power to enforce its demands. And this means that the essential value of religious expression, and of the ex- perience connected with it, lies in the fact that it tends to strengthen within us the voice of conscience, and leads us to acquire the habit of submission to its guidance. If we accept this view we at once see the ground for the generally acknowledged close relation between morality and religion to which we have referred above. For the very essence of our moral life lies in the weighing of opposed impulses against one another, and the adjustment of our conduct so that it will meet the demand of what we call the higher, which are the more enduring, impulses. And the voice of conscience, as we have seen, comes into existence as the result of this balancing, and is thus the most valuable of 170 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE all moral experiences. If, then, the religious attitude, gained by means of religious ex- pression, tends to enforce restraint, and to bring the voice of conscience into promi- nence, it performs moral service of the greatest possible value. Religion thus appears as a governing power, working to the enforcement of moral- ity. This means that if religion is to guide our moral impulses, these moral impulses must be already existent. Thus morality, geneti- cally speaking, is primary, and religion in a sense secondary. But on the other hand, re- ligion has higher value than morality in the very fact that it covers the whole realm of morality, and is a governing power, enforc- ing the higher, and repressing the lower, moral impulses. Let us now attempt to make application of these considerations to the special problem before us; to answer in general those puz- zling questions raised by what seem to us the sinful acts of the man whose religious at- titude cannot be doubted, and in particular MORAL AND RELIGIOUS ISSUES 171 the questions raised by our observation of the devotion of the religious man's energies to the waging of war, which we look upon as fundamentally immoral. We see that while religion strengthens whatever moral tendencies a man may have, it does not directly produce moral tendencies. It strengthens the best that is in us, but it does not in itself create high moral stan- dards. And when we face this fact w r e not only find an explanation of the existence of low standards of morality among the reli- gious, but we perceive that we cannot look to religion in itself for the creation of high stan- dards in ourselves or others; can look to it for no more than aid in their establishment. These high standards can only be gained by such serious thought upon the leadings of conscience, and such strenuous efforts to live according to its guidance, as are fully intel- lectual and apart from the direct influence of religion. In my view there can be no more vicious moral teaching than that which leads the religious convert to feel that in " getting 172 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE religion" all is found that is needed to yield the moral life. When we have attained the religious attitude we have indeed gained an enormous enforcement of such moral stan- dards as exist in us, and powerful aid in the attainment of higher standards through the enforcement of their weak beginnings; but these higher standards must themselves be gained by the spontaneity, the creative activ- ity, of the self, which makes its own ideals of conduct. All this goes to show that if a man sees no reason to restrain his fighting instincts, if he does not look upon war as immoral, he will naturally picture the God to whom he, as a religious man, looks for aid, as a God of war. And he will persist in maintaining such a view until he has changed his moral concep- tions until he has become convinced that war is immoral in itself. I myself have a profound sympathy with the Christian religion, and yet an equally profound conviction that we must not expect this Christian religion to do for us what neither it, nor any other religion, can do ; and MORAL AND RELIGIOUS ISSUES 173 that our own jsffort is necessary if we are to improve our own moral standards. Speak- ing as such an one, I cannot but think it most deplorable that we allow ourselves to read, and hear read in our religious services, parts of the Scriptures that were written by reli- gious men of the past whose standards of morals were, from our present point of view, much lower than our own. No one who believes thoroughly in the im- morality of war can have failed to have been shocked, as I was, on Sunday, the 30th day of August last, when I heard a member of the clergy of the Protestant Episcopal Church open the reading of the Psalter ap- pointed for the day with the terrible words, "Blessed be the Lord God who teacheth my hands to battle, and my fingers to fight." These words were written by a man of deep religious feeling, but one who had not gained any conception of the immorality of war one whose God was a God of war. Surely it cannot be anything but a loss to morals and to religion in our day to ask our people to repeat his sayings. Surely such repetition 174 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE cannot aid us in gaining conviction as to the immorality of war. The outcome of this discussion is then ap- parent. It teaches us that religion cannot be expected in itself to result in the disappear- ance of war. On the other hand, however, it leads us to see that religion may be depended upon to strengthen the growth of our repul- sion for war when once we have come to look upon war as immoral; but that it cannot be depended upon to do more than this. Thus we perceive that if we are to make progress towards the realisation of our ideal of peace we must turn our effort to the strengthening within ourselves of the convic- tion that war is profoundly immoral ; and to the spread of this conviction far and wide among the peoples of the earth. And this in turn leads us to appreciate the importance of our clear consideration of the moral prob- lems involved, and of the responsibility we as individuals must bear ; a subject to which we shall turn our thought in our final chap- ter. MORAL AND RELIGIOUS ISSUES 175 in In order to avoid too wide digressions from the subject of our consideration, I have passed over all too lightly certain points in- volved with the study of the relation of re- ligion to morality that are of deep signifi- cance, to which I feel impelled to refer in or- der to avoid misunderstanding of the posi- tions I take. The reader who turns to this book for the discussion of problems relating to war alone may well pass at once to the final chapter. In what has been said of the nature of re- ligion, our thought has been so concentrated upon the interpretation of the varied forms of religious expression that we have failed to emphasise sufficiently the important fact that these expressions have their significance only in so far as they, one and all, involve the rise of religious experience. It is to be remarked, however, that on the one hand this religious experience is not al- ways induced in those who exhibit these re- ligious expressions; and on the other hand that this religious experience may be, and 176 WAR AND .THE IDEAL OF PEACE surely often is, induced in many men and women who do not practise such forms of re- ligious expression as we have been consider- ing. If an individual has acquired the habit of listening persistently for the voice of con- science, and of submission to the guidance it gives, he, under the view here presented, is a religious man. A large proportion of men find it easier to gain the religious attitude by means of religious expression than in any other way. But not a few are able to gain it by other methods ; and this means that they are religious individuals even though they do not devote themselves to religious exercises. Some of the most religious men and women I know are non-churchgoers. According to Schleiermacher, whose views have had so wide an influence upon modern thought, religion consists in the conscious- ness of oneness with the Absolute or Infinite. This statement, as Dr. Arthur C. McGiffert has recently shown, is fundamentally iden- tical with numerous other statements by im- portant religious writers of our day. It is a MORAL AND RELIGIOUS ISSUES 177 statement of the thoughtful man's analysis of his religious experience; and it is proba- bly one that covers the experience of the man incapable of any such fine analysis, who is able to interpret his experience only in terms in- volving the conception of a God of a more or less grossly anthropomorphic type ; as a God of war, for instance. It is a statement that I find verified in my own experience. But considered merely as an experience, it fails of functional significance; and hence can have relation to morality only in its re- sultants. In my own case I find this experience coupled with a sense of willingness to be guided; and if I put this into language re- lated to conceptions similar to that of Schleiermacher, I must say "a sense of will- ingness to be guided by the Absolute or In- finite." But this guidance does not come from commands given to the man from without ; it is found within his own conscious experience, in the very voice of conscience which we have been considering. And, as I have already 178 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE said, in the pressure given in the religious experience tending to enforce the acceptance of this guidance of conscience, we have, in my view, the significance of religion in rela- tion to our moral life. Again, our mode of approach enables us to understand how it is that religious creeds and dogmas may differ radically among those in whom the religious spirit is equally emphasised. We have in the establishment of these creeds and dogmas an example of the habit of man, already referred to, which leads him to the invention of formulae which serve to make his instinctive or quasi-instinc- tive modes of action appear reasonable. These creeds and dogmas are formulations of modes of thought which to those who hold them seem to make rational their religious devotion ; but in my view they are not of the essence of religion. I would not, however, be thought to make light of the importance of these religious doctrines. While they do not appear to me to be of the essence of, they certainly must MORAL AND RELIGIOUS ISSUES 179 be held to be very significant adjuncts to, religion; and often important aids to the attainment of the religious attitude. And here we must bear in mind the signifi- cance and proper evaluation of what is tra- ditional, to which I have already drawn at- tention. Some of these doctrines have come down to us from the ages, as the best expres- sion, by the best of men, of all that they have found helpful to them in the strengthening of their religious life. And as such we should do ill to depreciate their significance. We must remember too that special concep- tions of truth do not persist through long ages, among an advancing people, unless, notwithstanding their failings in particulars, they do in large measure express truth. If, then, these religious doctrines have persisted through many generations, it is clear that they must in large measure express true rela- tions between religion and life. We must bear in mind the fact that there are what James called " diverse worlds of reality": that what is real from one point of view may be unreal from another. And ap- plying this general principle to the realm of 180 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE Truth, we must remember that what is true from one point of view may not be true from a diverse point of view; and that therefore doubt in relation to the truth of a given doc- trine does not necessarily, or even usually, mean that this given doctrine is utterly false and worthy of unqualified rejection; but means merely that it does not fully meet the demands of consistency, and requires some restatement, or re-expression, to meet these demands. The time-honoured religious beliefs speak of the long experience of the past, as do our intuitions: they cannot be disdainfully cast aside without great risk; for, even if imper- fect, they are nevertheless the best expres- sion of truth that the great body of the very noblest of men in the past have been able to make. Bearing this in mind, we must remember also that we weak mortals are able at best to attain to no more than imperfect conceptions of the full truth ; a fact which is emphasised when we recall how much those conceptions of truth held by us in our mature years differ from those held by us in childhood. And we MORAL AND RELIGIOUS ISSUES 181 must remember that the young, and those less enlightened than ourselves, are unable to grasp adequately the meanings of those elements in creeds and dogmas which yield hesitancy and doubt in us. I myself can see nothing but evil in cutting off the child, and the less intelligent, from those beliefs which have come down to us through ages from our religious forefathers. By such action we deprive them of that sup- port in the attainment of the religious atti- tude which these fundamental beliefs have given to countless men and women in the past. And what do we offer them in their place? Nothing more than conceptions of our own which they cannot grasp, and which therefore cannot influence them as they do us ; conceptions, moreover, which we are com- pelled to agree may very well in the end prove to be much less adequate expressions of the full truth than those we would have them discard. But, on the other hand, we must also bear in mind the significance and proper evalua- tion of the insight of the individual where it conflicts with what is traditional. I, again, 182 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE would be the last to deprecate attempts to re-express religious truths in terms that shall remove our hesitancies and doubts; for in such attempts alone is there any hope of our gaining re-expressions that shall embody the real truth. I would urge, however, that such attempts should be made most tentatively, and in a manner that will not disturb those who cannot fully comprehend the meaning of our supposedly deeper insight; recognising always that our attempted re-expression of the truth is not unlikely to prove as inade- quate as that which we would displace. This view, that the significance of religious expressions lies in the emphasis of restraint which brings into prominence the voice of conscience, may seem strange to those who are accustomed to think of the religious life as especially evidenced by certain forms of activity; of zeal in the conversion of others, and of zeal in good works. Some one per- haps may say : * l Then you would hold up as the ideal religious man St. Simeon Stylites, who lived his life on the top of a column; or the Indian ascetic who is satisfied with MORAL AND RELIGIOUS ISSUES 183 the continuous contemplation of his navel?" The view I am suggesting, however, in- volves no such contention. The religious zeal of which we are speaking is usually evi- denced among men and women at large in the following of the guidance of some revered leader, some prophet, some saint. But in it- self this zeal in these followers of the prophet is quite apart from their religious experi- ences as such; although the impulse to do what the leader directs is from time to time strengthened by religious observances, which result in the recognition of the dictates of conscience that might not have been noted had not the leader called attention to them. And in this leader himself, this zeal is again quite apart from his religious experiences as such; it is the natural reaction of the vigor- ous man whose thought is turned into new channels as the result of the guidance of the voice of conscience heard under such condi- tions of restraint as religious ceremonial in- volves. All habits of action, and among them habits of religious expression, are means to an end. In the case of religious expression 184 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE the end is right living ; and the expression it- self the means to this end. But men very generally tend to concentrate their attention upon the means, and to forget the end. And this is the case with such religious devotees as the extreme ascetics just referred to. Their attention is fixed on the religious cere- monial, which is the means ; rather than upon the guidance of life, which is the end. For the real religious spirit we must look to its influence upon the activities of the masses of men who do not carry the ceremonials to ex- cessive extremes, but who gain in connection with these ceremonials the inspiration for their guidance in active life. Thus it is that we often find more true re- ligious feeling, and greater earnestness in following religious guidance, among the laity, than among the priestly class who find them- selves called upon to deal too continuously with religious ceremonial. Many a man too who professedly rejects religion, but who eagerly watches for the guidance of conscience, is in fact a truly re- ligious man, even though he does not attach himself formally to any religious body. CHAPTER VI OTJK KESPONSIBILITY AND DUTY ^ As has been remarked in an earlier chapter, one of the most encouraging signs leading us to hope for the realisation of the ideal of peace is found in the very general desire on the part of all the nations involved in the present war to disclaim responsibility for its beginning. We have here something almost new in the history of wars. The potentates of old boast- ed of their initiation of wars of aggression; and in no other case in modern warfare has there been so general an agreement that a Nation is called upon to give excuse to the world for its warlike action. This is interesting in itself, in the first place, because the attribution of responsi- bility is inconsistent with fatalistic concep- tions, which would lead men to feel that war is due to causes quite beyond human in- 185 186 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE telligent control. And the fact that there is a general agreement that some set of men, or some race, is responsible for this war, shows that people at large do not feel any real belief in the fatalistic doctrine that war must neces- sarily arise from time to time, because it is the expression of natural laws of our being; a fatalistic doctrine which we have already seen to be unwarranted in fact. When we turn to questions relating to the fixation of responsibilities for war, we are met at the start by a subtle argument that aims to show that the conception of responsi- bility in the very nature of things cannot ap- ply to war at all; just as we have seen it is contended that the conception of morality cannot apply to war. Our attention is called to the fact that responsibility can only be at- tributed to conscious individuals; and that, as war is due to relations between States which as such are not conscious entities, therefore the concept of responsibility cannot be applied to the nations as such, or to the initiation of war in which nations engage. This view as to the nature of the State is I think sound. But it does not lead us to lay OUR RESPONSIBILITY AND DUTY 187 aside all consideration of responsibility in re- gard to war; it rather brings us to the conviction that so far as responsibility for war obtains it must rest upon the individual men and women who go to make up the State. We see that it is impossible for the indi- viduals composing a State to shift responsi- bility upon the State itself. Half appreciating this, the ordinary citizen nevertheless comes to look upon the " Gov- ernment" as the personification of the State; and thus thinks to shift his responsibility as regards war upon the Government. We are all too likely, for instance, to feel that the people of Austria, or Germany, or Russia are not responsible for the present war ; that the responsibility rests upon the autocratic Gov- ernments that determined upon the actions that brought it about. So again the citizens of the United States are too likely to feel that they had no responsibility for their late war with Spain. But we cannot get away from the fact that no Government would be what it is but for the nature of the individuals that are gov- erned. In the autocratic Governments, where 188 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE the ruling class assume pre-eminent powers of direction, greater responsibility rests upon the political leaders than upon the com- mon citizens; but even there the rulers can- not act without regard to the willingness of their subjects to be led. In the great democ- racies the responsibilities are much more widely distributed. As we begin to gain a clear view of the situations that led to the con- test with Spain above referred to, we see that this war was declared unwillingly by the ex- ecutive, and only because it appeared that the great majority of the politically import- ant citizens of the United States demanded it. All this leads us to ask, What are the limits of our individual responsibility in general, of which this responsibility in relation to war is a special instance? And to this question I shall turn before we give attention to our special problem. In studies of this nature it is always help- ful to clear insight to imagine oneself freed from the preconceptions by which one is usually handicapped; and with this end in view I shall beg the reader to consider cer- OUR RESPONSIBILITY AND DUTY 189 tain facts as they would appear to an obser- ver entirely unprejudiced by our habitually careless use of language, and interested in the careful study of human behaviour, yet at the moment sorely puzzled in his attempts to discover the principles that guide us in those of our activities which we broadly de- scribe as our punitive procedure. He may be supposed to have watched the parents and guardians of young children who have committed some breach of common morality who have lied, for instance ; he will then have often noted a wide divergence of opinion among these guardians, some holding that the child is too young to be punished for such a fault, while others insist that it should be disciplined ; the result being that the child is punished in some cases, and in others is not. Then again, he may have observed that in certain cases a man who has committed murder is put to death ; while in other cases, where no one questions the killing by the ac- cused, the murderer is merely placed apart from the community at large, and is there held under conditions which permit him to enjoy a certain amount, and often a large 190 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE amount, of liberty, being generally very well housed and fed, provided with necessary med- ical care, and on the whole made far more comfortable than the average free poor man. He will be likely to assume that we must be guided by some principle in these matters, for he will have noticed more or less serious disagreements arising between parents be- cause of their differences of opinion in re- gard to the disciplining of their children; and will have listened to long-drawn-out wrangles in the courts in relation to the prop- er course of action in regard to the mur- derer. But he will be likely to say that such observations as those above referred to leave him altogether unable to comprehend what this principle can be. The ordinary man among us will, however, be quite ready to tell him that our principle is this: we intend to punish those who are guilty, and no others ; and the reason why some children who lie, and some men who kill others, go unpunished is that they are not responsible. The parent who does not punish his child for lying believes him to be too young to be responsible. The OUR RESPONSIBILITY AND DUTY 191 murderer who is not put to death is one who has been judged insane, and therefore irre- sponsible. In the end we make everything depend upon the distinction between respon- sibility and irresponsibility. If we answered our disinterested observer thus he might well remark, however, that our practice in many cases certainly does not con- form to any such principle. He might say, "You hold that you would punish the guil- ty, and would not punish those who are not guilty. But do you really always aim to punish the guilty? Think of that case, of which you have read such thrilling accounts in your papers lately, of the girl who killed her false lover, and who gloried in her deed. She surely was guilty by her own acknow- ledgment ; yet your jury set her free. "And is it true that you aim not to punish those who are not guilty? You attribute guilt, I take it, only in case the acts of the person accused are judged to have been delib- erate and volitional, and in case they produce harmful results. But I have seen an excep- tionally loving mother punish her child be- cause she carelessly overturned a table, and 192 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE thereby destroyed some valuable faience: certainly the mother had no reason to think that her child acted voluntarily with evil in- tent. And so I have watched the proceedings in your courts where a chauffeur in a difficult position, making an error of judgment, was shown to have run down and killed a pedes- trian; and who was punished with no little severity, although you surely could not assert that he killed the man intentionally. No, I do not see that you are justified in your asser- tion that you aim to punish the guilty, or that you do not intend to punish those who are not guilty. "But passing over these inconsistencies, you will have difficulty in showing that, if a man's voluntary acts yield evil result, you hold him guilty unless he is irresponsible. For instance, I heard lately of an ardent moun- taineer who over-persuaded a novice to at- tempt the ascent of a difficult peak, in the course of which the novice was killed. Here was a voluntary act on the part of the experi- enced mountaineer which yielded evil result ; and it would seem that, under the principles you profess to follow, he could only be re- OUR RESPONSIBILITY AND DUTY 193 lieved from the imputation of guilt by the presentation of proof of his irresponsibility. But as a matter of fact, while I could find no one who held him to be guilty, I found that every one held him to have been responsible for the death of the novice. ' ' I think it must be agreed that this indict- ment of inconsistency between the assumed principle referred to and our actual prac- tice is fully justified ; and that this inconsist- ency involves not a few unfortunate results. Such being the case it would seem not im- probable that our troubles may be due to a misunderstanding of the meanings of some at least of the terms we use in the enuncia- tion of our principle. It will be worth our while, therefore, to consider the meaning that is commonly attributed to the concept of responsibility upon which, as we have seen, the whole assumed principle under discussion is based, and to inquire whether this attribu- tion is justified. As soon as we turn our thought in this direction we note that while we all appreciate what is referred to when we speak of the sense of responsibility, we certainly do not 194 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE find it easy to indicate exactly what we mean when we use the term, nor what this meaning implies. Many will be ready to say offhand that responsibility is connected with all of our voluntary acts that yield evil result. But when we come to think of it we see that we sometimes apply the conception as well to acts that we delight to contemplate because they involve good results. We think of Lin- coln as responsible for the freeing of the slave, as well as of Wilkes Booth as responsi- ble for Lincoln's untimely death. Nevertheless it must be granted that we usually think of responsibility only in connec- tion with deeds involving evil result. When things go happily we do not often take note of responsibility; but usually only when things go badly. We may, however, leave this fact out of account for the present, merely ob- serving that at all events we usually connect the notion of responsibility with certain of our voluntary deeds. We feel that responsi- bility rests upon us because we have decided upon, and put into execution, certain acts ; in other words, because we have expressed our creativeness in determining certain ends to be OUR RESPONSIBILITY AND DUTY 195 sought, and in choosing means to the realisa- tion of these ends. Responsibility thns appears to be bound up with the creativeness of our voluntary acts ; and we are likely to say that acts which do not involve this volition and creativeness in- volve no responsibility. We contrast respon- sibility with irresponsibility. But let us remind ourselves what this ex- perience of volition is, and what these acts are that involve no volition. Volition, when it is analysed, turns out to be due to a clash be- tween contradictory impulses or incompati- ble ideas, which involves choice of one and rejection of the other. But this clash is due to the fact that each of these incompatible ideas or contradictory impulses has a ten- dency to develop ; so what we experience as a volitional act, or act of will, turns out to be merely a specially vivid form of what the psychologists call conation, or Will in a broad sense, which is a general characteristic of all our mental life. Conation or Will, if we choose to use that term in a very broad sense is our name for that characteristic which appears in the fact 196 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE that each mental element tends to move be- yond itself. Each mental item has what the psychologists call a prospective quality. Each sensation is found to be leading us on to the appreciation of an object; each emo- tion tells of action that results in value to the organism; each desire looks forward to means tending to its fruition; each thought is seen to be " budding," as William James would have said, and leading to new thoughts quite other than itself. This fact that our volitional acts are only special forms of conation, which is a general mental characteristic, shows us that it is im- possible to draw a sharp and clear line be- tween volitional and non- volitional acts ; and this leads us to question whether we are right in assuming that we can limit responsibility to volitional acts. And when we ask whether we actually proceed in our every-day life as if this assumption were warranted we find that we do not. For we think of the coward, who flees for his life when a grizzly bear pounces upon him and his companion, as re- sponsible for the killing of the man he de- OUR RESPONSIBILITY AND DUTY 197 serts; although without doubt he would dis- claim all evil intent, and would say that his act of running was purely instinctive and beyond his control. And we apply responsi- bility to the violent acts of the low negro, although, were he sufficiently intelligent, he would without question contend that he did not act volitionally, but was overwhelmed by uncontrollable instinctive passion. But here our disinterested observer may very well interpose a pertinent question. "You are ready to grant that responsibility applies to both volitional and to non-voli- tional acts; how then do you distinguish re- sponsibility from irresponsibility? You say that the very small child is too young to be responsible; that at birth it is irrespon- sible, and that at some later period it may be held to have acquired responsibility. Now evidently if this is so the becoming responsible must be a definite and impor- tant event. Do you note any mark that indicates that any such definite event occurs in the life of a child that there is any recognisable moment of transition between 198 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE responsibility and irresponsibility in the course of its growth?" I fear we shall have to answer that we do not note any marks of such a transition. ''So again," we may suppose him to pro- ceed, "you say that the sane are responsible, and the insane irresponsible. Yet upon close scrutiny I fail to find that you have any grounds whatever for drawing a sharp line of distinction between sanity and insanity. No man or woman is altogether normal. All of you are fortunately abnormal to some ex- tent ; if you were not you would not be so in- teresting as you are." When we consider these remarks of our disinterested observer I think we are com- pelled to agree that he is right here too. We see that the difference between sanity and insanity is a matter of degree, and that the line between the two is one drawn merely for convenience to meet practical needs, to enable us to determine how we shall act towards this man or that ; the truth of this becoming manifest when we consider the wild discrep- ancies of testimony given in murder trials by different expert alienists. So we perceive OUR RESPONSIBILITY AND DUTY 199 that the distinction between responsibility and irresponsibility based upon the distinc- tion between sanity and insanity fails us. Clearly these difficulties should lead us to inquire with care as to the real meaning of responsibility: and in the beginning we may well ask what the ordinary intelligent man un- derstands by the word, to that end naturally turning to the dictionary definitions. When we do so we find that the lawyers have to a great extent determined the mean- ing attached to the word ; and that, under the usage established by them, responsibility is usually employed as the equivalent of accountability. Tho man is said to be respon- sible for a debt, or responsible for an act, when he is held accountable for the debt, or accountable for the results of his act. But here we note that accountability is ap- plied only to deeds that involve disagreeable duties, such as paying one's debts; or to those acts that yield evil results. This at once arouses suspicion as to the accuracy of the lawyer's definition of responsibility in terms of accountability; for, as we have 200 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE noted, responsibility is applicable also to deeds that give us pleasure in performance, and that yield good result, where the notion of accountability does not apply. Then again we note that accountability is a matter of expediency; and expediency is de- termined by each man for himself, and must vary with the circumstances under which the deed was performed, and those which exist when we pass judgment. But surely no one of us can rest satisfied with a definition of responsibility that is based upon expediency. All this leads us to ask whether it is really true that we think of responsibility and ac- countability as equivalent terms. Do we feel ourselves to be responsible only when we judge ourselves to be accountable? I am inclined to think it will be generally admitted that we often feel a sense of re- sponsibility when we have no possible ground for fear of accountability. We feel responsi- ble for the guidance of certain young peo- ple for the example we have set them, per- haps when no one could possibly hold us accountable for the action we deplore. This surely indicates that, while we do not usually OUR RESPONSIBILITY AND DUTY 201 think of ourselves as accountable unless we feel responsibility, nevertheless responsi- bility has a broader significance than ac- countability. All this raises the question whether our at- tachment of the meaning of accountability to responsibility may not be a purely adven- titious one. As we have seen, we seldom bother ourselves to worry about the applica- tion of responsibility unless we happen to wish to find who is at fault for a certain un- toward occurrence. So also our lawyers, who have practically written our dictionary defi- nitions, deal only with responsibility when they are concerned to determine accountabil- ity. This would suggest that the meaning of accountability may have become attached to the conception of responsibility merely be- cause the most striking cases where search is made for the marks of responsibility hap- pen to be those where search is made for ground for the application of accountability and guilt. And if this is true it would seem probable that we have the real basis of our difficulties in the fact that we mistake this 202 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE adventitious meaning of accountability for the true meaning of responsibility. This leads us to note that in the minds of those who in the far-away days began to think in terms of what has developed into our conception of responsibility, the import- ant element was related to questions of iden- tification; and to observe that this notion is still involved in all our more developed forms of this conception. This being the case it would appear clear that the fundamental no- tion upon which the conception of responsi- bility is based is not that of accountability at all, but is that of authorship. And if this is true, then it is easy to see how we have come to think as we do ; for as man has developed, and as his modes of pro- cedure have become less immediate and more indirect, questions as to accountability must of course have soon become intimately con- nected with questions as to identification. But if we agree to this we are led to note a further implication of very broad import. For in saying that a man is responsible be- cause of his authorship we mean to say that he would not now be what he is but for the OUR RESPONSIBILITY AND DUTY 203 act which implies authorship and responsi- bility. And this carries with it the further implication that the individual man of any moment would not be what he is but for the previous existence in connection with his body of all the characteristics which in the past have led to all the special modes of his behaviour with which his fellow-men are acquainted. This I think we must grant. It is certainly little short of absurd to think that I am the same man now that I should be if I had not acted as I did yesterday. You may not note the difference ; but clearly my act must have made an alteration in my nature, for if I persist in repeating that act of yesterday you will note the change in saying that I have become dominated by an acquired habit. It would thus appear that bound up with, and of the very essence of, my conception of responsibility is the appreciation of the fact that I, as I exist this moment, would not be what I am but for the previous existence in connection with my body of all the character- istics which in the past have led to all my special modes of behaviour. Every single act 204 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE of my past has had its influence in making me the kind of person I am this minute. This result, I am sure, we are compelled to accept ; and that it is commonly agreed to be- comes clear when we observe that in judging a man's motives which led to a criminal act we endeavour to take into account the gen- eral character of the man; that is, we en- deavour to discover the kind of man he usually is, and therefore now is; and that means that we base our judgment as to his responsibility and guilt, not upon the evi- dence we have of his exceptional criminal act, but upon the assumption that he would not be what he now is but for the previous existence in connection with his body of all the charac- teristics that he has in the past expressed by all his acts ; holding that his character cannot be properly judged if we merely note the char- acteristics evidenced by his exceptional crim- inal act. But if we agree that the essence of the no- tion of responsibility lies in the recognition of the fact that a man would not be what he is this minute but for all his past activities, then we must also agree that responsibility, OUR RESPONSIBILITY AND DUTY 205 which is based upon the appreciation of au- thorship, cannot be held to relate to some of a man's activities and not to others, but must relate to all of his activities. And this is certainly an important point; for it enables us to overcome the difficulty above noted where we attempted, and failed, to draw a line between voluntary and involuntary acts as related to responsibility. There is, however, a still more significant outcome of this argument. For if responsi- bility applies to all of man's activities, then very evidently our thesis leads us to the im- portant conclusion that we are responsible for all of our acts; or, in other words, that there is no such thing as irresponsibility at all. Certainly this is a somewhat startling re- sult of the course of thought to which we have been led. Let us see whether this view helps us in solving the very serious dif- ficulties raised in connection with the fact that, while we make the distinction between responsibility and irresponsibility, we are ut- 206 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE terly unable to suggest any mark of this dis- tinction between the two. If we consider first the wrangles in our courts as to the sanity or insanity of murder- ers, we at once see that the difficulty which yields them is overcome if we hold that no man can ever be irresponsible; for then it appears that we must agree that the mur- derer was responsible, whether we show him to have been what we call sane or insane. The problem before the court would then appear to be one in connection with which questions as to responsibility are quite irrele- vant. The court should under such a view be concerned merely to determine whether the man before it is accountable for the crime and therefore guilty ; and if he is, whether he should be allowed to go free because he hap- pens to be a man of weak intelligence and self-control, and was perhaps subjected at the moment of his criminal act to unusual temptation which is not likely to be repeated. Again, holding this view, we should say that as there is no such thing as irresponsi- bility we ought not to expect to find any mo- OUR RESPONSIBILITY AND DUTY 207 ment in the life of the child when responsi- bility appears, and hence should not expect to find special marks by which its existence could be discovered. For if responsibility is based upon the conception of authorship it is evident that the child becomes a responsi- ble being when at birth it becomes a sep- arate individual. And to one who is re- pelled by the notion that the babe at birth is responsible we should explain that his repul- sion is due to the fact that he has come to think of responsibility, not in terms of au- thorship, but in terms of accountability. We appreciate that the babe cannot be held ac- countable for its acts, and guilty ; and assum- ing that responsibility means accountability we also assume that it is not responsible. But as a matter of fact we all tacitly ac- knowledge that there is no such thing as ir- responsibility in our very treatment of the child. We may argue among ourselves as to whether he is, or is not, to be held respon- sible, using the term as the equivalent of ac- countable ; but we are very careful not to let him know that he can actually ever be irre- sponsible for his acts. We realise that if the 208 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE child finds "I couldn't help it" an effective plea, then we reach the end of all that control and discipline which are so important in the development of his moral character. And upon consideration it becomes evident that just such a conception of the meaning of responsibility is of necessity tacitly involved in all ethical theory worthy of attention ; for it is difficult to see how any treatment of hu- man character and human behaviour can lay claim to rational consistency which ac- cepts a theory that we are at times respon- sible and at other times irresponsible, with- out being able to define clearly the distinc- tion between the two situations involved ; and this we have seen to be impossible. Evidently this view that there is no such thing as irresponsibility is a very important proposition, and one which makes our moral life seem a very serious business indeed ; for it means that we can never avoid or shift responsibility for any of our acts or impulses to action. We can no longer claim responsi- bility for those acts of ours which are ap- plauded by our fellows, and disclaim respon- OUR RESPONSIBILITY AND DUTY 209 sibility for such as yield deplorable results, as we are so often inclined to do. We can no longer attempt to shift the responsibility for certain of our acts upon others who may have influenced our lives by teaching or example ; for while those who have guided us are re- sponsible for such guidance, we are responsi- ble none the less for our willingness to be guided, and for the acts that follow. Nor can we longer claim irresponsibility for activities due to habits acquired voluntarily; no, nor even for those actions which are largely due to inherited traits. * We are also led to certain significant con- siderations in regard to the current notion that, if punishment is entirely remitted in the granting of full forgiveness, all burden, not only of guilt, but also of responsibility, is removed; a notion that is of course unwar- ranted under the view we are maintaining. No remission of punishment can take from the fact that the man's present character is * There are certain apparent difficulties in connection with these activities that are what we call "unconscious" and "automatic," which do not concern us here, but which should be met in any thorough study of the subject. Con- fer my "Consciousness," pp. 623 ff., and an article entitled "Responsibility" in the Philosophical Review, September, 1914, for a fuller treatment. 210 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE what it is partly because of his sinful act of the past that is now forgiven ; and this means that his responsibility for that act remains, notwithstanding the forgiveness. But this is entirely lost to sight by the ordinary re- former, and by the ordinary criminal to whom forgiveness is granted; and. in the feeling that all responsibility for his past sinful act is obliterated when he is forgiven we have one of the greatest difficulties connected with the regeneration of the criminal who tends to become a backslider ; for the entertainment of this notion leads the culprit to overlook the fact that there is imminent danger that the characteristics of his past self which led to his crime may again become dominant. * * No one will question the fact that in many cases it is of the greatest value to the repentant man to feel that in the forgiveness which follows repentance the whole burden of sin is cast off and the sinner left quite free to begin life anew; this value to the repentant man being due to the fact that in connection with it he receives courage to lead a new and better life. But if this notion is held to carry with it a removal of all responsibility for the past sinful act, it clearly tends to place the reformed man off his guard, and is often instrumental in producing a relapse into his old evil ways. No such result would follow, however, if he were taught that forgiveness does not remove his responsibility for his past sin. All the courage that he gains in the struggle towards a better life is given in the recognition of forgive- ness. The trouble arises because the repentant sinner is OUR RESPONSIBILITY AND DUTY 211 We may now return to the main subject of our study. In my view we must accept, without any waiver, the view that responsibility attaches to all our acts without exception. At all events, even if this broad inclusiveness is not granted, the case as presented above serves at least to show that responsibility must apply to all but those of our activities that we speak of as automatic and uncon- scious which do not concern us in the present connection. If this is true then the burden of respon- sibility in relation to war is brought home to each one of us, so far as we do or say any- thing whatever that tends to strengthen the sentiments that lead to war, or so far as we fail to act or speak in furtherance of any methods of procedure which look to the curb- ing of warlike attitudes. This is certainly not fully realised by men led by the current teaching to think that responsibility for the past sinful act is thereby also removed. If it were impressed upon him that responsibility remains, notwith- standing that forgiveness has been granted, he would real- ise that he still holds in his nature the capacities which in the past led to the evil act, and would be more likely to remain constantly on his guard lest his old self which sinned should again gain the mastery. 212 WAR AND HE IDEAL OF PEACE at large. We tend to think of governmental leaders as responsible, forgetful of the fact that in the end no Government could engage in war did it not feel assured that the com- mon people would support it in its action. We tend to hold the " Yellow Journals" in a measure responsible for the pressure put upon Governments to engage in war, but we do not stop to think of the indirect and insen- sible effects of our own acts and words which lead such Journals to find their "jingoism" profitable. The importance of these acts and words is of course most evident when they emanate from those engaged in commercial affairs, who directly or indirectly arouse animosities among, or allow themselves to entertain ani- mosities towards, those of other races with whom they have business relations. But it goes farther than this. Do our manufactur- ers of implements of war stop to think of their responsibility for warlike measures! Is it consistent with a firm sense of responsi- bility in respect to war to be engaged in money-making by the manufacture of armour- plate, and "dreadnoughts," and "subma- OUR RESPONSIBILITY AND DUTY 213 rines"? Do men of high scientific attain- ments stop to think of their responsibilities when they devote their energies to the devel- opment of processes that make modern war so terrible? The field-piece of the day is as much an instrument of precision as the most delicate telescope. We cannot, however, allow ourselves to re- main content to blame others. Grave respon- sibilities indeed rest upon those whose thoughts and acts lead directly to the encour- agement of those influences that make for war; but we must look into our own souls. For after all the commercial and scientific activities just referred to could not result in war unless the masses of ordinary people like ourselves were sympathetic with the feelings of those who are thus singled out for our condemnation. Yes, each one of us must bear some measure of this responsibility. II Responsibility implies duty. The two are diverse conceptions derived from the same facts observed from different points of view. We can have no duty that is not based upon 214 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE responsibility; nor can any responsibility exist that does not involve a duty. So if we agree that each one of us has a responsibility in relation to the occurrence of war, and the strengthening of all the influences that go to make for peace, then we must agree that each one of us has a duty to perform in these same directions. But a duty can only yield effective result when it is personally felt. No one can force a duty upon others. The most he can do is to persuade them, so that they may come to have a sense of duty. Each person must de- cide for himself or herself what his or her duties are. I shall, however, make no effort looking to such persuasion. It would be presumptuous for me to do so. I shall merely ask my read- ers in closing to make an attempt to see the duties to which the conclusions we have reached in our study seem to point. In the first place, if we are convinced that war arises because of the existence of fight- ing instincts in individual men, we surely should do what we can to curb these instincts OUR RESPONSIBILITY AND DUTY 215 as they manifest themselves in the individ- ual ; and should make an effort to divert their functioning in directions that do not involve fighting between individuals. In these moments when our deepest emo- tions are aroused, and our thought is concen- trated upon the broadest of social move- ments, it may seem little less than trivial to lay stress upon the traits and habits of so insignificant a being as the common individ- ual; but I am convinced that unless we do take thought of these individualistic trends of action we shall look in vain for the realisa- tion of our ideal. Bearing this in mind we should endeavour to break down the foolish sentiment among boys that there is credit in being a good fight- er ; and on the contrary, should feel ourselves called upon to teach them that there is a higher value in restraint of their tendencies to fight than there is in giving them ex- pression; just as we feel ourselves called upon to teach the youth that it is noble to curb his natural sexual instincts. Beyond this we should remember that we may most easily control an instinctive ten- 216 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE dency by avoiding the stimuli which usually lead to manifestations of its expression. We should do what we can to remove the tempta- tion to fight from the path of the youth. This means the taking of certain steps that imply no little bravery on our part ; for it in- volves opposition to a strong public opinion involves the discouragement of all sports that imply struggle between individuals in physical contact.* y But beyond the mere removal of tempta- * This of course means the discouragement of boxing, wrestling, and football, for instance; and I appreciate that this will seem to many a radical, as well as an exceedingly unpopular, proposition; but I am convinced that we shall >VAi never succeed in our effort to curb man's instincts that result in war until we thus strike at its very roots. It will be held by some that such a course would make of our youth a race of "mollycoddles"; but this claim is absurd on its face; for there are numerous fine sports which do not involve physical contact, and which at the same time give all possible opportunity for the acquisition of courage, strength, restraint, skill, quickness and accuracy of judg- ment. It will be held again that we have in these sports a mode of katharsis, so to speak, which enables the youth to express in harmless forms his fighting instincts, which otherwise would be likely to manifest themselves in danger- ous form. How vicious an argument this is becomes at once very clear if we attempt to apply a similar argu- ment to the sexual instincts of the youth, in connection with which we have become very generally convinced of the importance of urging him to avoid the temptations which tend to arouse the instinctive expression. We may as well face the fact that our unwillingness to discourage such sports is really due in large measure to our own personal enjoyment of the imaginative expression of the fighting instincts; and that until we learn to curb OUR RESPONSIBILITY AND DUTY 217 tions, we should aim to teach our youth to avoid the hates which most often lead to out- bursts of the fighting tendencies, by teaching him the values of liberality of spirit. And more positively still should encourage him in all directions where mutual helpfulness is in- volved; should foster all forms of "team work" which are essential to success in many forms of endeavour; and this is fos- tered by numerous sports that are not sub- ject to the disadvantages connected with those involving struggle in physical contact. these instinctive tendencies in ourselves we can have little hope that we shall be able to strike at the roots of the war evil. This foot-note was originally contained in the body of the text. The transfer is made to effect what I feel to be a justifiable compromise between a number of my firm friends and myself. They argue that I am all wrong in this particular matter, being led astray by my ignorance of the nature of the game of football as it is now played ; and they attempt to strike terror into my soul by warning me that a large proportion of my readers, who have real know- ledge of the subject, will agree with them, and will be convinced that, as I am so obviously wrong in this particu- lar, nothing else I have to say is worthy of credence. Facing this contention, I have given the subject renewed consideration, and have failed to find myself in error. I do not acknowledge my ignorance, or the inaccuracy of my view. My final judgment is that this peaceful contro- versy between my friends and myself merely goes to prove my statement as to the very general, but unacknowledged, pleasure gained in the vicarious expression of the fighting instinct ; and the fact that I stick to my guns must be agreed to present substantial evidence that some measure of courage may exist even in a "mollycoddle" like myself. 218 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE Turning now to the consideration of the secondary form of the expression of the fight- ing instincts in the co-operative activities of war, we as pacifists should evidently in the first place make every possible effort to build up in the young a clear appreciation of the fact that the individual man must bear re- sponsibility so far as his attitudes encourage the political leaders of his country in actions that tend to yield war; and a profound con- viction that these attitudes should be dis- countenanced, and the expressions attached to them inhibited. We should avoid giving to the child false notions as to the significance of war; and should do what we can to break down the sen- timent that leads the youth to look upon the life of the soldier as, in itself, a glorious life. To that end we should do what we can to urge reform in the teaching of history so that the child shall no longer be taught to think so much as he now does of the world's battles; but more of the steps in the advance of true culture, and in the development of ideals. We should insist that, so far as it is neces- sary to speak of wars in the teaching of his- OUR RESPONSIBILITY AND DUTY 219 tory, the utter stupidity of war should be em- phasised, by calling attention to the inconsid- erable gains made in connection with each special war, and the terrible personal and national losses that have accompanied it ; and in general laying stress upon the formidable bar that war places in the way of human progress. In the second place we should devote our attention to efforts to avoid, or remove, the stimuli which we discover to have tended in the past to arouse warlike activities. We should note that one of the most com- mon causes of war in the past has been the extension of the evil of covetousness, which is originally of individualistic import, to ap- ply to the land and riches of those of another nation. We should show to the young that the ancient and modern "lust of empire" is but a development of this primeval covetous- ness of the savage, which has already been largely inhibited in its original application to other individuals in the very growth of the social communities which now exhibit it towards one another. Wars may often be traced to economic con- 220 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE ditions as their immediate causes. But behind these economic conditions is always found the eagerness of the individual to gain ad- vantage for himself, which he transmutes into eagerness for national gain where he comes to recognise himself as a member of a community the desires and aims of whose members are the same as his own. We shall make no advance in the repres- sion of this nationalised covetousness so long as we fail to distinguish sharply the higher moral qualities from the moral quality of the enthusiasm aroused by the thought of a broadened extension of a nation's nom- inal control; so long as we listen to persua- sive writers like J. A. Cramb* who would identify the moral quality of this enthusiasm of the savage with that of a dying Scott in his elation over the service he had been able to render to his country in scientific achieve- ment. It is the duty of the people of the Western world, we are told, to force our civilisation upon the great peoples of the East who have not invented such effective instruments of * "Germany and England," Lecture II, Section IV. OUR RESPONSIBILITY AND DUTY 221 war as we have ; and we are told that this can only be done by commercial enterprise backed by aggressive threat of warlike attack. One cannot but look with suspicion upon such a theory of interracial duty when one notes how closely connected with it are the sordid motives of commercial gain. One is led to ask whether it is not pure sentimental- ism, if not disingenuousness, to describe such action as "The White Man's Burden." I think it is ; for, in my view, the argument is a specious one. It does not seem to me that we are called upon to spread the influence of our civilisa- tion by any means that involves the commer- cial exploitation of a country whose inhabi- tants have not themselves been awakened to the value of the developments we would make for them ; or by any means that may by any possibility involve the miseries of war. In these days, however, wars that are un- dertaken in the interest of acknowledged ag- gression are relatively rare. It is clear that in the present war, for instance, each of the contestants has convinced itself that it was compelled to defensive war by aggression on 222 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE the part of some other nation. Thus it ap- pears that the stimulus to the fighting in- stincts in this case has been hatred bred of suspicion. This leads us to see that we should make earnest effort to avoid in ourselves, and to discourage in others, the entertainment of prejudices and suspicions, and to inhibit the resultant hates, towards men of other races than our own; for it is to such preju- dices and suspicions and resultant hates of the individual that we must look if we are to find the most frequent proximate causes of war. We must bear in mind that the basis of the sentiment of patriotism is to be found, as I have noted in a previous chapter, in condi- tions of early clan life where actual physical struggle alone determined persistence; and should aim to break down narrow national- ism, which is too often glorified under the name of patriotism. How significant a force this nationalistic feeling is in the production of war may be seen to-day in Europe as this is depicted, for instance, in J. A. Cramb's "Germany and England." And how un- OUR RESPONSIBILITY AND DUTY 223 necessary it is to the welfare of man may be seen in the prosperity and advance in culture, under conditions of peace, of the people of the United States and Canada; and in the good feeling existing between these two nations, although they live side by side, and have quite diverse interests. We hear much discussion to-day of the un- quenchable rivalries and ambitions of diverse races as the basis of war; we hear of the Slavic peril for instance, and of the vital dif- ferences between the Greco-Latin races and the Teutons, as fundamental grounds of na- tional opposition. But when we study the matter closely we are led to question the ade- quacy of the explanation of war in terms of racial opposition; for we find much evidence in the past that the national distinctions that have been appealed to by those eager to make war, have failed altogether to correspond with the racial distinctions referred to. Professor Miinsterberg saw reason, just before the present war broke out, to group the English with the Prussians as fellow Teu- tons, as Chamberlain had done before him. 224 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE The ancestors of the Prussians themselves were largely Slavonic Wends. Polish blood flows freely in the veins of many of the aris- tocracy of Saxony. And, as Disraeli pointed out in his "Endymion," it is utterly impossi- ble to give reasonable grounds for the claim of racial unity among the so-called Greco- Latin peoples. The French-speaking people of southern France have been found within a century fighting as Italians in the interest of Italy. No one can study the shiftings of national interests, and of national patriotic devotion, that have occurred within the boundaries of Europe during the last two hundred and fifty years, to go no farther back, without appre- ciating that national feeling is based very much less upon any fundamental racial dis- tinctions than is generally supposed to be the case ; nor without becoming convinced that it exists largely because it is stimulated and encouraged by political leaders to further their own ends. With these facts in mind it seems to me we should attempt to break down the narrow national patriotism which appeals to a false OUR RESPONSIBILITY AND DUTY 225 racial patriotism. We should teach a newer broad international and interracial patriot- ism that knows no enemies but those who are guilty of violent attack upon the free devel- opment of others, and that buries forever the older worn out patriotism to which most of us still cling. We should endeavour to produce in all men a deep conviction as to the immorality of war. Again, if we are convinced that the mere chaining of our war-bringing instincts is ever subject to the danger that the chains may be broken, and that then the instinctive tenden- cies will lead to war, we should surely make earnest endeavour to divert the forces in- volved into channels that will yield social ad- vantage ; and an advantage so significant that the functioning in a warlike manner will ap- pear detrimental and stupid. Does the reader feel inclined to say that he does not see clearly the directions in which we can divert this functioning that now yields war? Well, we have an example of what may be done in this direction in the wise action of the Government in the case of the 226 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE wild tribes in the Philippines. There "head hunting has been practically obliterated in a decade by the judicious introduction of game contests between the hostile tribes, who by this means are brought into relations that preclude enmity and lead to friendliness. It may perhaps be said that such an ex- ample does not serve us well, as we have to deal with much more subtle bases of conflict ; that in undertaking the task suggested we face new problems, the solutions of which are not in any way clearly denned. And this is of course true. But if we do not see clearly, may this not be because we have not been trying to see? How can we wonder that we do not find that for which we make no search? No one who has read William James's suggestive essay on "The Moral Equivalent of "War" can fail to see that opportunities are open to us for such diversion of the forces which now make for war. Turning to more positive efforts to attain our end, we should certainly do all in our power to encourage international co-opera- OUR RESPONSIBILITY AND DUTY 227 tion in science and philosophy, and especially in matters commercial which bring into touch the less thoughtful of men. How fine a thing it would have been had the Panama Canal been an international project, for the benefit of the whole world ; rather than the undertak- ing of a single nation, begun under conditions that yielded hostile feeling, and, now that it is completed, guarded by armaments to secure its possession. Again, we should hold up the hands of all those who aim to spread the acceptance of the ideal of peace, even when they appear to act without keen appreciation of existing condi- tions, or inconsistently perhaps, or even we may think somewhat childishly. We should applaud all efforts looking to the initiation of arbitration courts and treat- ies, supporting those who work for the exten- sion of their application. We may be forced to believe that they may fail to prevent wars under certain conditions while the world is constituted as it now is; but their very ex- istence, and the constantly increasing refer- ence to them of subjects of international dif- ference, will go far to lead national Govern- 228 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE ments to hesitate to plunge their people into war. We should I think support all efforts made in the interest of the disarmament of nations, even as we support our local governments in their laws which prevent the private citizen from carrying dangerous weapons. This war has conclusively shown that the armament of peoples whose interests are diverse tends to result in war, rather than to avoid it, as has so often been held. And this disarmament must eventually in- clude the reduction of all navies, so that it may no longer be possible for any nation to claim that it rules the sea. It will some day be looked upon as an intolerable pretension for any nation that chooses to wage war to claim the right to take action on the high seas, in regard to the ships of neutral nations, that in times of peace would be looked upon as little less than piratical. As I have been concerned to consider gen- eral principles only, I have thus far at- tempted to avoid any but illustrative refer- ence to matters at present under debate. In OUR RESPONSIBILITY AND DUTY 229 closing this book, however, I may perhaps be allowed to give expression to my opinion in regard to a question of special interest at this time to me as a citizen of the United States. It seems to me that we should feel it a duty to oppose the efforts being made to-day look- ing to the increase of our armament. We must remember the point made in an earlier chapter: that definite forms of be- haviour necessarily involve equally definite mental attitudes; and vice versa. For that reason, if for none other, it seems to me we should oppose the present movement. The be- haviour involved in the maintenance of any large armament would certainly involve the growth among our people of the mental atti- tudes that we so greatly deplore in the best armed nations of the European world to-day. It is indeed said by those who propose this immediate increase of our armaments that they have no wish to do more than prepare ourselves against the danger of aggressive assault; and that we stand in no danger of acquiring the militarist spirit so long as the civil power holds control of the war power. I myself am not convinced that our nation, if 230 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE fully armed, will be able to keep the militarist spirit subordinate to the civil spirit. When we consider the broad powers given by our Constitution to the President of the United States, we see the danger that might arise in case we happened to elect to that high office a man of belligerent tendencies, if he had un- der his control a very powerful army and navy. Those who favour new extensive armament on our part overlook the fact that this would almost of necessity lead to a like armament in Canada; and that we should then find our- selves situated much as the European States are. Nothing could then stand in the way of those always ready to foster the " jingo" sentiments in both countries; and suspicion breeds hate, and hate breeds war. At all events, whatever we do in this regard should be done only in conjunction with Canada, and with a complete understanding with her that the action is taken by both in the interest of mutual defence, and in that interest only. The opposition to the movement looking to an increase of our armament may, however, be put on quite other grounds. When in the OUR RESPONSIBILITY AND DUTY 231 development of our social life violent attack upon individual by individual was not uncom- mon, and the duel was looked upon as legiti- mate, it required no little courage for an indi- vidual to go about his daily task unarmed. But when the courageous experiment was once made it was found to be fully justified ; for it soon became apparent that it takes two to make a quarrel; and in decent society the aggressive man soon found himself discred- ited. It is clear that if the disarmament of na- tions is ever to be accomplished it must be be- gun by some civilised power of the first rank ; and by some power that is in a sufficiently favourable position to run some serious risk, and that has undaunted courage to take this risk. Evidently the United States is thus favourably situated. The question then is merely whether we have the courage to make the venture. We are a specially privileged people, free at present from enemies who might wish to attack us, and able to arm without too long delay should we see signs of growing danger of aggression. If we failed of alertness, we 232 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE might by a bare chance be caught unprepared by some enemy not now in sight ; but it were surely better to take this small risk than to waste our energies in what is likely to be un- called-for preparation. Protected as we are by our broad ocean boundaries we have a unique opportunity to show to the world the benefits accruing to a State that does not spend a large proportion of its resources upon the construction of im- plements of destruction, and upon the train- ing of large bodies of its citizens to their employment. Did I, as an individual, find living at some distance from me a first-class prize-fighter, marvellously efficient but at the time thor- oughly exhausted, it would surely appear stupid for me to take my time and energies from the pursuits for which I seem fitted in order to devote myself to the attempt to be- come what could not at best be more than a second-rate prize-fighter, merely because of fear that the first-rate prize-fighter might re- gain his strength and at some future time run amuck and do me an injury. It seems to me OUR RESPONSIBILITY AND DUTY 233 that it would be equally stupid for our nation to take similar action for similar reasons. To refrain from such armament will indeed require a greater courage than that shown by a nation that fights when armed to the teeth. But I have full confidence that our people, and their representatives in the Government, will in the end be found ready to display this de- gree of courage. And finally as thoughtful pacifists we may turn to the thoughtful among those who fail to sympathise with our attitude, and ask them what ideal they have to offer to us in lieu of the ideal of peace they would have us reject. Do they look for the development on this earth of a nobler type of men as the result of the support of those forces which inevitably lead to war! Do they think to entice us by picturing the recurrence of such scenes of carnage as we now view in Belgium and France, Poland and Servia? By asking us to consider with joy the continuance of a race that is from time to time to be plunged into the lowest depths of sorrow and misery? By representing gen- 234 WAR AND THE IDEAL OF PEACE eration after generation bereft of the flower of its manhood and burdened by its impover- ished womenkind and ill-cared-for children? By portraying the strivings of men towards scientific and artistic and ethical culture peri- odically thwarted by the crushing poverty that inevitably follows war? Do they picture as a noble race that in which the persistence of racial and national suspicions and hatreds remain undiscour- aged ; in which the lust of empire remains un- checked; in which sordid longings for com- mercial gain remain unrestrained? Who can ask questions of this nature with- out agreeing that if man is to gain in real nobility he must at all hazards learn to curb his fighting tendencies by the full control of all that makes for war; and that it is for us an urgent duty to use our every effort to en- force the acceptance of the very broadest form of the Ideal of Peace. THE LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA Santa Barbara THIS BOOK IS DUE ON THE LAST DATE STAMPED BELOW. Series 9482