War is a conflict between two groups, each of which attempts to kill and maim1 as many as possible of the other group in order to achieve some object which it desires. The object is generally either power or wealth. It is a pleasure to exercise authority over other men, and it is a pleasure to live on the produce of other men’s labor2. The victor in war can enjoy more of these delights than the vanquished3.80 But war, like all other natural activities, is not so much prompted by the end which it has in view as by an impulse to the activity itself. Very often men desire an end, not on its own account, but because their nature demands the actions which will lead to the end. And so it is in this case: the ends to be achieved by war appear in prospect4 far more important than they will appear when they are realized, because war itself is a fulfilment of one side of our nature. If men’s actions sprang from desires for what would in fact bring happiness, the purely5 rational arguments against war would have long ago put an end to it. What makes war difficult to suppress is that it springs from an impulse, rather than from a calculation of the advantages to be derived6 from war.
War differs from the employment of force by the police through the fact that the actions of the police are ordered by a neutral authority, whereas in war it is the parties to the dispute themselves who set force in motion. This distinction is not absolute, since the State is not always wholly neutral in internal disturbances7. When strikers are shot down, the State is taking the side of the rich. When opinions adverse8 to the existing State are punished, the81 State is obviously one of the parties to the dispute. And from the suppression of individual opinion up to civil war all gradations are possible. But broadly speaking, force employed according to laws previously9 laid down by the community as a whole may be distinguished11 from force employed by one community against another on occasions of which the one community is the sole judge. I have dwelt upon this difference because I do not think the use of force by the police can be wholly eliminated, and I think a similar use of force in international affairs is the best hope of permanent peace. At present, international affairs are regulated by the principle that a nation must not intervene unless its interests are involved: diplomatic usage forbids intervention12 for the mere13 maintenance of international law. America may protest when American citizens are drowned by German submarines, but must not protest when no American citizens are involved. The case would be analogous14 in internal affairs if the police would only interfere15 with murder when it happened that a policeman had been killed. So long as this principle prevails in the relations of States, the power of neutrals cannot be effectively employed to prevent war.
82 In every civilized16 country two forces co?perate to produce war. In ordinary times some men—usually a small proportion of the population—are bellicose17: they predict war, and obviously are not unhappy in the prospect. So long as war is not imminent18, the bulk of the population pay little attention to these men, and do not actively19 either support or oppose them. But when war begins to seem very near, a war fever seizes hold of people, and those who were already bellicose find themselves enthusiastically supported by all but an insignificant20 minority. The impulses which inspire war fever are rather different from those which make some men bellicose in ordinary times. Only educated men are likely to be warlike at ordinary times, since they alone are vividly21 aware of other countries or of the part which their own nation might play in the affairs of the world. But it is only their knowledge, not their nature, that distinguishes them from their more ignorant compatriots.
To take the most obvious example, German policy, in recent years before the war, was not averse23 from war, and not friendly to England. It is worth while to try to understand the state of mind from which this policy sprang.
83 The men who direct German policy are, to begin with, patriotic24 to an extent which is almost unknown in France and England. The interests of Germany appear to them unquestionably the only interests they need take into account. What injury may, in pursuing those interests, be done to other nations, what destruction may be brought upon populations and cities, what irreparable damage may result to civilization, it is not for them to consider. If they can confer what they regard as benefits upon Germany, everything else is of no account.
The second noteworthy point about German policy is that its conception of national welfare is mainly competitive. It is not the intrinsic wealth of Germany, whether materially or mentally, that the rulers of Germany consider important: it is the comparative wealth in the competition with other civilized countries. For this reason the destruction of good things abroad appears to them almost as desirable as the creation of good things in Germany. In most parts of the world the French are regarded as the most civilized of nations: their art and their literature and their way of life have an attraction for foreigners which those of Germany do not have. The English have84 developed political liberty, and the art of maintaining an Empire with a minimum of coercion26, in a way for which Germany, hitherto, has shown no aptitude27. These are grounds for envy, and envy wishes to destroy what is good in other countries. German militarists, quite rightly, judged that what was best in France and England would probably be destroyed by a great war, even if France and England were not in the end defeated in the actual fighting. I have seen a list of young French writers killed on the battlefield; probably the German authorities have also seen it, and have reflected with joy that another year of such losses will destroy French literature for a generation—perhaps, through loss of tradition, for ever. Every outburst against liberty in our more bellicose newspapers, every incitement28 to persecution29 of defenseless Germans, every mark of growing ferocity in our attitude, must be read with delight by German patriots22, as proving their success in robbing us of our best, and in forcing us to imitate whatever is worst in Prussia.
But what the rulers of Germany have envied us most was power and wealth—the power derived from command of the seas and the straits,85 the wealth derived from a century of industrial supremacy31. In both these respects they feel that their deserts are higher than ours. They have devoted32 far more thought and skill to military and industrial organization. Their average of intelligence and knowledge is far superior; their capacity for pursuing an attainable33 end, unitedly and with forethought, is infinitely34 greater. Yet we, merely (as they think) because we had a start in the race, have achieved a vastly larger Empire than they have, and an enormously greater control of capital. All this is unbearable35; yet nothing but a great war can alter it.
Besides all these feelings, there is in many Germans, especially in those who know us best, a hot hatred36 of us on account of our pride. Farinata degli Uberti surveyed Hell “come avesse lo Inferno37 in gran dispitto.” Just so, by German accounts, English officer prisoners look round them among their captors—holding aloof38, as though the enemy were noxious39, unclean creatures, toads40 or slugs or centipedes, which a man does not touch willingly, and shakes off with loathing41 if he is forced to touch them for a moment. It is easy to imagine how the devils hated Farinata, and inflicted43 greater86 pains upon him than upon his neighbors, hoping to win recognition by some slight wincing44 on his part, driven to frenzy45 by his continuing to behave as if they did not exist. In just the same way the Germans are maddened by our spiritual immobility. At bottom we have regarded the Germans as one regards flies on a hot day: they are a nuisance, one has to brush them off, but it would not occur to one to be turned aside by them. Now that the initial certainty of victory has faded, we begin to be affected47 inwardly by the Germans. In time, if we continue to fail in our military enterprises, we shall realize that they are human beings, not just a tiresome48 circumstance. Then perhaps we shall hate them with a hatred which they will have no reason to resent. And from such a hatred it will be only a short journey to a genuine rapprochement.
The problem which must be solved, if the future of the world is to be less terrible than its present, is the problem of preventing nations from getting into the moods of England and Germany at the outbreak of the war. These two nations as they were at that moment might be taken as almost mythical49 representatives of pride and envy—cold pride and hot envy. Germany87 declaimed passionately50: “You, England, swollen51 and decrepit52, you overshadow my whole growth—your rotting branches keep the sun from shining upon me and the rain from nourishing me. Your spreading foliage53 must be lopped, your symmetrical beauty must be destroyed, that I too may have freedom to grow, that my young vigor54 may no longer be impeded55 by your decaying mass.” England, bored and aloof, unconscious of the claims of outside forces, attempted absent-mindedly to sweep away the upstart disturber of meditation56; but the upstart was not swept away, and remains57 so far with every prospect of making good his claim. The claim and the resistance to it are alike folly58. Germany had no good ground for envy; we had no good ground for resisting whatever in Germany’s demands was compatible with our continued existence. Is there any method of averting59 such reciprocal folly in the future?
I think if either the English or the Germans were capable of thinking in terms of individual welfare rather than national pride, they would have seen that, at every moment during the war the wisest course would have been to conclude peace at once, on the best terms that could have88 been obtained. This course, I am convinced, would have been the wisest for each separate nation, as well as for civilization in general. The utmost evil that the enemy could inflict42 through an unfavorable peace would be a trifle compared to the evil which all the nations inflict upon themselves by continuing to fight. What blinds us to this obvious fact is pride, the pride which makes the acknowledgment of defeat intolerable, and clothes itself in the garb61 of reason by suggesting all kinds of evils which are supposed to result from admitting defeat. But the only real evil of defeat is humiliation62, and humiliation is subjective63; we shall not feel humiliated64 if we become persuaded that it was a mistake to engage in the war, and that it is better to pursue other tasks not dependent upon world-dominion. If either the English or the Germans could admit this inwardly, any peace which did not destroy national independence could be accepted without real loss in the self-respect which is essential to a good life.
The mood in which Germany embarked65 upon the war was abominable66, but it was a mood fostered by the habitual67 mood of England. We have prided ourselves upon our territory and our wealth; we have been ready at all times to89 defend by force of arms what we have conquered in India and Africa. If we had realized the futility68 of empire, and had shown a willingness to yield colonies to Germany without waiting for the threat of force, we might have been in a position to persuade the Germans that their ambitions were foolish, and that the respect of the world was not to be won by an imperialist policy. But by our resistance we showed that we shared their standards. We, being in possession, became enamored of the status quo. The Germans were willing to make war to upset the status quo; we were willing to make war to prevent its being upset in Germany’s favor. So convinced were we of the sacredness of the status quo that we never realized how advantageous69 it was to us, or how, by insisting upon it, we shared the responsibility for the war. In a world where nations grow and decay, where forces change and populations become cramped70, it is not possible or desirable to maintain the status quo for ever. If peace is to be preserved, nations must learn to accept unfavorable alterations71 of the map without feeling that they must first be defeated in war, or that in yielding they incur73 a humiliation.
It is the insistence74 of legalists and friends of90 peace upon the maintenance of the status quo that has driven Germany into militarism. Germany had as good a right to an Empire as any other Great Power, but could only acquire an Empire through war. Love of peace has been too much associated with a static conception of international relations. In economic disputes we all know that whatever is vigorous in the wage-earning classes is opposed to “industrial peace,” because the existing distribution of wealth is felt to be unfair. Those who enjoy a privileged position endeavor to bolster75 up their claims by appealing to the desire for peace, and decrying76 those who promote strife77 between the classes. It never occurs to them that by opposing changes without considering whether they are just, the capitalists share the responsibility for the class war. And in exactly the same way England shares the responsibility for Germany’s war. If actual war is ever to cease there will have to be political methods of achieving the results which now can only be achieved by successful fighting, and nations will have voluntarily to admit adverse claims which appear just in the judgment78 of neutrals.
It is only by some such admission, embodying91 itself in a Parliament of the nations with full power to alter the distribution of territory, that militarism can be permanently79 overcome. It may be that the present war will bring, in the Western nations, a change of mood and outlook sufficient to make such an institution possible. It may be that more wars and more destruction will be necessary before the majority of civilized men rebel against the brutality81 and futile82 destruction of modern war. But unless our standards of civilization and our powers of constructive83 thought are to be permanently lowered, I cannot doubt that, sooner or later, reason will conquer the blind impulses which now lead nations into war. And if a large majority of the Great Powers had a firm determination that peace should be preserved, there would be no difficulty in devising diplomatic machinery84 for the settlement of disputes, and in establishing educational systems which would implant85 in the minds of the young an ineradicable horror of the slaughter86 which they are now taught to admire.
Besides the conscious and deliberate forces leading to war, there are the inarticulate feelings of common men, which, in most civilized countries, are always ready to burst into war92 fever at the bidding of statesmen. If peace is to be secure, the readiness to catch war fever must be somehow diminished. Whoever wishes to succeed in this must first understand what war fever is and why it arises.
The men who have an important influence in the world, whether for good or evil, are dominated as a rule by a threefold desire: they desire, first, an activity which calls fully87 into play the faculties88 in which they feel that they excel; secondly89, the sense of successfully overcoming resistance; thirdly, the respect of others on account of their success. The third of these desires is sometimes absent: some men who have been great have been without the “last infirmity,” and have been content with their own sense of success, or merely with the joy of difficult effort. But as a rule all three are present. Some men’s talents are specialized90, so that their choice of activities is circumscribed91 by the nature of their faculties; other men have, in youth, such a wide range of possible aptitudes92 that their choice is chiefly determined93 by the varying degrees of respect which public opinion gives to different kinds of success.
The same desires, usually in a less marked degree, exist in men who have no exceptional93 talents. But such men cannot achieve anything very difficult by their individual efforts; for them, as units, it is impossible to acquire the sense of greatness or the triumph of strong resistance overcome. Their separate lives are unadventurous and dull. In the morning they go to the office or the plow94, in the evening they return tired and silent, to the sober monotony of wife and children. Believing that security is the supreme95 good, they have insured against sickness and death, and have found an employment where they have little fear of dismissal and no hope of any great rise. But security, once achieved, brings a Nemesis96 of ennui97. Adventure, imagination, risk, also have their claims; but how can these claims be satisfied by the ordinary wage-earner? Even if it were possible to satisfy them, the claims of wife and children have priority and must not be neglected.
To this victim of order and good organization the realization98 comes, in some moment of sudden crisis, that he belongs to a nation, that his nation may take risks, may engage in difficult enterprises, enjoy the hot passion of doubtful combat, stimulate99 adventure and imagination by military expeditions to Mount Sinai and94 the Garden of Eden. What his nation does, in some sense, he does; what his nation suffers, he suffers. The long years of private caution are avenged100 by a wild plunge101 into public madness. All the horrid102 duties of thrift103 and order and care which he has learnt to fulfil in private are thought not to apply to public affairs: it is patriotic and noble to be reckless for the nation, though it would be wicked to be reckless for oneself. The old primitive104 passions, which civilization has denied, surge up all the stronger for repression105. In a moment imagination and instinct travel back through the centuries, and the wild man of the woods emerges from the mental prison in which he has been confined. This is the deeper part of the psychology106 of the war fever.
But besides the irrational107 and instinctive108 element in the war fever, there is always also, if only as a liberator109 of primitive impulse, a certain amount of quasi-rational calculation and what is euphemistically called “thought.” The war fever very seldom seizes a nation unless it believes that it will be victorious110. Undoubtedly111, under the influence of excitement, men over-estimate their chances of success; but there is some proportion between what is hoped and95 what a rational man would expect. Holland, though quite as humane112 as England, had no impulse to go to war on behalf of Belgium, because the likelihood of disaster was so obviously overwhelming. The London populace, if they had known how the war was going to develop, would not have rejoiced as they did on that August Bank Holiday long ago. A nation which has had a recent experience of war, and has come to know that a war is almost always more painful than it is expected to be at the outset, becomes much less liable to war fever until a new generation grows up. The element of rationality in war fever is recognized by Governments and journalists who desire war, as may be seen by their invariably minimizing the perils113 of a war which they wish to provoke. At the beginning of the South African War Sir William Butler was dismissed, apparently114 for suggesting that sixty thousand men and three months might not suffice to subdue115 the Boer Republics. And when the war proved long and difficult, the nation turned against those who had made it. We may assume, I think, without attributing too great a share to reason in human affairs, that a nation would not suffer from war fever in a case96 where every sane116 man could see that defeat was very probable.
The importance of this lies in the fact that it would make aggressive war very unlikely if its chances of success were very small. If the peace-loving nations were sufficiently117 strong to be obviously capable of defeating the nations which were willing to wage aggressive war, the peace-loving nations might form an alliance and agree to fight jointly118 against any nation which refused to submit its claims to an International Council. Before the present war we might have reasonably hoped to secure the peace of the world in some such way; but the military strength of Germany has shown that such a scheme has no great chance of success at present. Perhaps at some not far distant date it may be made more feasible by developments of policy in America.
The economic and political forces which make for war could be easily curbed119 if the will to peace existed strongly in all civilized nations. But so long as the populations are liable to war fever, all work for peace must be precarious120; and if war fever could not be aroused, political and economic forces would be powerless to produce any long or very destructive war. The97 fundamental problem for the pacifist is to prevent the impulse towards war which seizes whole communities from time to time. And this can only be done by far-reaching changes in education, in the economic structure of society, and in the moral code by which public opinion controls the lives of men and women.10
A great many of the impulses which now lead nations to go to war are in themselves essential to any vigorous or progressive life. Without imagination and love of adventure a society soon becomes stagnant121 and begins to decay. Conflict, provided it is not destructive and brutal80, is necessary in order to stimulate men’s activities, and to secure the victory of what is living over what is dead or merely traditional. The wish for the triumph of one’s cause, the sense of solidarity122 with large bodies of men, are not things which a wise man will wish to destroy. It is only the outcome in death and destruction and hatred that is evil. The problem is, to keep these impulses, without making war the outlet123 for them.
All Utopias that have hitherto been constructed98 are intolerably dull. Any man with any force in him would rather live in this world, with all its ghastly horrors, than in Plato’s Republic or among Swift’s Houyhnhnms. The men who make Utopias proceed upon a radically124 false assumption as to what constitutes a good life. They conceive that it is possible to imagine a certain state of society and a certain way of life which should be once for all recognized as good, and should then continue for ever and ever. They do not realize that much the greater part of a man’s happiness depends upon activity, and only a very small remnant consists in passive enjoyment125. Even the pleasures which do consist in enjoyment are only satisfactory, to most men, when they come in the intervals126 of activity. Social reformers, like inventors of Utopias, are apt to forget this very obvious fact of human nature. They aim rather at securing more leisure, and more opportunity for enjoying it, than at making work itself more satisfactory, more consonant127 with impulse, and a better outlet for creativeness and the desire to employ one’s faculties. Work, in the modern world, is, to almost all who depend on earnings128, mere work, not an embodiment of the desire for activity. Probably this is to a99 considerable extent inevitable129. But in so far as it can be prevented something will be done to give a peaceful outlet to some of the impulses which lead to war.
It would, of course, be easy to bring about peace if there were no vigor in the world. The Roman Empire was pacific and unproductive; the Athens of Pericles was the most productive and almost the most warlike community known to history. The only form of production in which our own age excels is science, and in science Germany, the most warlike of Great Powers, is supreme. It is useless to multiply examples; but it is plain that the very same vital energy which produces all that is best also produces war and the love of war. This is the basis of the opposition130 to pacifism felt by many men whose aims and activities are by no means brutal. Pacifism, in practice, too often expresses merely lack of force, not the refusal to use force in thwarting131 others. Pacifism, if it is to be both victorious and beneficent, must find an outlet, compatible with humane feeling, for the vigor which now leads nations into war and destruction.
This problem was considered by William James in an admirable address on “The Moral100 Equivalent of War,” delivered to a congress of pacifists during the Spanish-American War of 1898. His statement of the problem could not be bettered; and so far as I know, he is the only writer who has faced the problem adequately. But his solution is not adequate; perhaps no adequate solution is possible. The problem, however, is one of degree: every additional peaceful outlet for men’s energies diminishes the force which urges nations towards war, and makes war less frequent and less fierce. And as a question of degree, it is capable of more or less partial solutions.11
Every vigorous man needs some kind of contest, some sense of resistance overcome, in order to feel that he is exercising his faculties. Under the influence of economics, a theory has grown up that what men desire is wealth; this theory has tended to verify itself, because people’s actions are more often determined by what they think they desire than by what they really desire. The less active members of a community often do in fact desire wealth, since it enables them to gratify a taste for passive101 enjoyment, and to secure respect without exertion133. But the energetic men who make great fortunes seldom desire the actual money: they desire the sense of power through a contest, and the joy of successful activity. For this reason, those who are the most ruthless in making money are often the most willing to give it away; there are many notorious examples of this among American millionaires. The only element of truth in the economic theory that these men are actuated by desire for money is this: owing to the fact that money is what is believed to be desirable, the making of money is recognized as the test of success. What is desired is visible and indubitable success; but this can only be achieved by being one of the few who reach a goal which many men would wish to reach. For this reason, public opinion has a great influence in directing the activities of vigorous men. In America a millionaire is more respected than a great artist; this leads men who might become either the one or the other to choose to become millionaires. In Renaissance134 Italy great artists were more respected than millionaires, and the result was the opposite of what it is in America.
Some pacifists and all militarists deprecate102 social and political conflicts. In this the militarists are in the right, from their point of view; but the pacifists seem to me mistaken. Conflicts of party politics, conflicts between capital and labor, and generally all those conflicts of principle which do not involve war, serve many useful purposes, and do very little harm. They increase men’s interest in public affairs, they afford a comparatively innocent outlet for the love of contest, and they help to alter laws and institutions, when changing conditions or greater knowledge create the wish for an alteration72. Everything that intensifies135 political life tends to bring about a peaceful interest of the same kind as the interest which leads to desire for war. And in a democratic community political questions give every voter a sense of initiative and power and responsibility which relieves his life of something of its narrow unadventurousness. The object of the pacifist should be to give men more and more political control over their own lives, and in particular to introduce democracy into the management of industry, as the syndicalists advise.
The problem for the reflective pacifist is two-fold: how to keep his own country at peace, and how to preserve the peace of the world. It is103 impossible that the peace of the world should be preserved while nations are liable to the mood in which Germany entered upon the war—unless, indeed, one nation were so obviously stronger than all others combined as to make war unnecessary for that one and hopeless for all the others. As this war has dragged on its weary length, many people must have asked themselves whether national independence is worth the price that has to be paid for it. Would it not perhaps be better to secure universal peace by the supremacy of one Power? “To secure peace by a world federation136”—so a submissive pacifist may argue—“would require some faint glimmerings of reason in rulers and peoples, and is therefore out of the question; but to secure it by allowing Germany to dictate137 terms to Europe would be easy, in view of Germany’s amazing military success. Since there is no other way of ending war”—so our advocate of peace at any price would contend—“let us adopt this way, which happens at the moment to be open to us.” It is worth while to consider this view more attentively138 than is commonly considered.
There is one great historic example of a long peace secured in this way; I mean the Roman104 Empire. We in England boast of the Pax Britannica which we have imposed, in this way, upon the warring races and religions in India. If we are right in boasting of this, if we have in fact conferred a benefit upon India by enforced peace, the Germans would be right in boasting if they could impose a Pax Germanica upon Europe. Before the war, men might have said that India and Europe are not analogous, because India is less civilized than Europe; but now, I hope, no one would have the effrontery139 to maintain anything so preposterous140. Repeatedly in modern history there has been a chance of achieving European unity10 by the hegemony of a single State; but always England, in obedience141 to the doctrine142 of the Balance of Power, has prevented this consummation, and preserved what our statesmen have called the “liberties of Europe.” It is this task upon which we are now engaged. But I do not think our statesmen, or any others among us, have made much effort to consider whether the task is worth what it costs.
In one case we were clearly wrong: in our resistance to revolutionary France. If revolutionary France could have conquered the Continent and Great Britain, the world would now105 be happier, more civilized, and more free, as well as more peaceful. But revolutionary France was a quite exceptional case, because its early conquests were made in the name of liberty, against tyrants143, not against peoples; and everywhere the French armies were welcomed as liberators by all except rulers and bigots. In the case of Philip II we were as clearly right as we were wrong in 1793. But in both cases our action is not to be judged by some abstract diplomatic conception of the “liberties of Europe,” but by the ideals of the Power seeking hegemony, and by the probable effect upon the welfare of ordinary men and women throughout Europe.
“Hegemony” is a very vague word, and everything turns upon the degree of interference with liberty which it involves. There is a degree of interference with liberty which is fatal to many forms of national life; for example, Italy in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries was crushed by the supremacy of Spain and Austria. If the Germans were actually to annex144 French provinces, as they did in 1871, they would probably inflict a serious injury upon those provinces, and make them less fruitful for civilization in general. For such106 reasons national liberty is a matter of real importance, and a Europe actually governed by Germany would probably be very dead and unproductive. But if “hegemony” merely means increased weight in diplomatic questions, more coaling stations and possessions in Africa, more power of securing advantageous commercial treaties, then it can hardly be supposed that it would do any vital damage to other nations; certainly it would not do so much damage as the present war is doing. I cannot doubt that, before the war, a hegemony of this kind would have abundantly satisfied the Germans. But the effect of the war, so far, has been to increase immeasurably all the dangers which it was intended to avert60. We have now only the choice between certain exhaustion145 of Europe in fighting Germany and possible damage to the national life of France by German tyranny. Stated in terms of civilization and human welfare, not in terms of national prestige, that is now in fact the issue.
Assuming that war is not ended by one State conquering all the others, the only way in which it can be permanently ended is by a world-federation. So long as there are many sovereign States, each with its own Army, there can107 be no security that there will not be war. There will have to be in the world only one Army and one Navy before there will be any reason to think that wars have ceased. This means that, so far as the military functions of the State are concerned, there will be only one State, which will be world-wide.
The civil functions of the State—legislative, administrative146, and judicial—have no very essential connection with the military functions, and there is no reason why both kinds of functions should normally be exercised by the same State. There is, in fact, every reason why the civil State and the military State should be different. The greater modern States are already too large for most civil purposes, but for military purposes they are not large enough, since they are not world-wide. This difference as to the desirable area for the two kinds of State introduces a certain perplexity and hesitation147, when it is not realized that the two functions have little necessary connection: one set of considerations points towards small States, the other towards continually larger States. Of course, if there were an international Army and Navy, there would have to be some international authority to set them108 in motion. But this authority need never concern itself with any of the internal affairs of national States: it need only declare the rules which should regulate their relations, and pronounce judicially148 when those rules have been so infringed149 as to call for the intervention of the international force. How easily the limit of the authority could be fixed150 may be seen by many actual examples.
The civil and military State are often different in practice, for many purposes. The South American Republics are sovereign for all purposes except their relations with Europe, in regard to which they are subject to the United States: in dealings with Europe, the Army and Navy of the United States are their Army and Navy. Our self-governing Dominions151 depend for their defense30, not upon their own forces but upon our Navy. Most Governments, nowadays, do not aim at formal annexation152 of a country which they wish to incorporate, but only at a protectorate—that is, civil autonomy subject to military control. Such autonomy is, of course, in practice incomplete, because it does not enable the “protected” country to adopt measures which are vetoed by the Power in military control. But it may be very nearly109 complete, as in the case of our self-governing Dominions. At the other extreme, it may become a mere farce153, as in Egypt. In the case of an alliance, there is complete autonomy of the separate allied154 countries, together with what is practically a combination of their military forces into one single force.
The great advantage of a large military State is that it increases the area over which internal war is not possible except by revolution. If England and Canada have a disagreement, it is taken as a matter of course that a settlement shall be arrived at by discussion, not by force. Still more is this the case if Manchester and Liverpool have a quarrel, in spite of the fact that each is autonomous155 for many local purposes. No one would have thought it reasonable that Liverpool should go to war to prevent the construction of the Manchester Ship Canal, although almost any two Great Powers would have gone to war over an issue of the same relative importance. England and Russia would probably have gone to war over Persia if they had not been allies; as it is, they arrived by diplomacy156 at much the same iniquitous157 result as they would otherwise have reached by fighting. Australia and Japan110 would probably fight if they were both completely independent; but both depend for their liberties upon the British Navy, and therefore they have to adjust their differences peaceably.
The chief disadvantage of a large military State is that, when external war occurs, the area affected is greater. The quadruple Entente158 forms, for the present, one military State; the result is that, because of a dispute between Austria and Serbia, Belgium is devastated159 and Australians are killed in the Dardanelles. Another disadvantage is that it facilitates oppression. A large military State is practically omnipotent160 against a small State, and can impose its will, as England and Russia did in Persia and as Austria-Hungary has been doing in Serbia. It is impossible to make sure of avoiding oppression by any purely mechanical guarantees; only a liberal and humane spirit can afford a real protection. It has been perfectly161 possible for England to oppress Ireland, in spite of democracy and the presence of Irish Members at Westminster. Nor has the presence of Poles in the Reichstag prevented the oppression of Prussian Poland. But democracy and representative government undoubtedly make oppression less probable: they afford a means by111 which those who might be oppressed can cause their wishes and grievances162 to be publicly known, they render it certain that only a minority can be oppressed, and then only if the majority are nearly unanimous in wishing to oppress them. Also the practice of oppression affords much more pleasure to the governing classes, who actually carry it out, than to the mass of the population. For this reason the mass of the population, where it has power, is likely to be less tyrannical than an oligarchy163 or a bureaucracy.
In order to prevent war and at the same time preserve liberty it is necessary that there should be only one military State in the world, and that when disputes between different countries arise, it should act according to the decision of a central authority. This is what would naturally result from a federation of the world, if such a thing ever came about. But the prospect is remote, and it is worth while to consider why it is so remote.
The unity of a nation is produced by similar habits, instinctive liking164, a common history, and a common pride. The unity of a nation is partly due to intrinsic affinities165 between its citizens, but partly also to the pressure and contrast112 of the outside world: if a nation were isolated166, it would not have the same cohesion167 or the same fervor168 of patriotism169. When we come to alliances of nations, it is seldom anything except outside pressure that produces solidarity. England and America, to some extent, are drawn170 together by the same causes which often make national unity: a (more or less) common language, similar political institutions, similar aims in international politics. But England, France, and Russia were drawn together solely171 by fear of Germany; if Germany had been annihilated172 by a natural cataclysm173, they would at once have begun to hate one another, as they did before Germany was strong. For this reason, the possibility of co?peration in the present alliance against Germany affords no ground whatever for hoping that all the nations of the world might co?perate permanently in a peaceful alliance. The present motive174 for cohesion, namely a common fear, would be gone, and could not be replaced by any other motive unless men’s thoughts and purposes were very different from what they are now.
The ultimate fact from which war results is not economic or political, and does not rest113 upon any mechanical difficulty of inventing means for the peaceful settlement of international disputes. The ultimate fact from which war results is the fact that a large proportion of mankind have an impulse to conflict rather than harmony, and can only be brought to co?perate with others in resisting or attacking a common enemy. This is the case in private life as well as in the relations of States. Most men, when they feel themselves sufficiently strong, set to work to make themselves feared rather than loved; the wish to gain the good opinion of others is confined, as a rule, to those who have not acquired secure power. The impulse to quarreling and self-assertion, the pleasure of getting one’s own way in spite of opposition, is native to most men. It is this impulse, rather than any motive of calculated self-interest, which produces war, and causes the difficulty of bringing about a World-State. And this impulse is not confined to one nation; it exists, in varying degrees, in all the vigorous nations of the world.
But although this impulse is strong, there is no reason why it should be allowed to lead to war. It was exactly the same impulse which led to duelling; yet now civilized men conduct114 their private quarrels without bloodshed. If political contest within a World-State were substituted for war, imagination would soon accustom175 itself to the new situation, as it has accustomed itself to absence of duelling. Through the influence of institutions and habits, without any fundamental change in human nature, men would learn to look back upon war as we look upon the burning of heretics or upon human sacrifice to heathen deities176. If I were to buy a revolver costing several pounds, in order to shoot my friend with a view to stealing sixpence out of his pocket, I should be thought neither very wise nor very virtuous177. But if I can get sixty-five million accomplices178 to join me in this criminal absurdity179, I become one of a great and glorious nation, nobly sacrificing the cost of my revolver, perhaps even my life, in order to secure the sixpence for the honor of my country. Historians, who are almost invariably sycophants180, will praise me and my accomplices if we are successful, and say that we are worthy25 successors of the heroes who overthrew181 the might of Imperial Rome. But if my opponents are victorious, if their sixpences are defended at the cost of many pounds each and the lives of a large proportion of the population,115 then historians will call me a brigand182 (as I am), and praise the spirit and self-sacrifice of those who resisted me.
War is surrounded with glamour183, by tradition, by Homer and the Old Testament184, by early education, by elaborate myths as to the importance of the issues involved, by the heroism185 and self-sacrifice, which these myths call out. Jephthah sacrificing his daughter is a heroic figure, but he would have let her live if he had not been deceived by a myth. Mothers sending their sons to the battlefield are heroic, but they are as much deceived as Jephthah. And, in both cases alike, the heroism which issues in cruelty would be dispelled186 if there were not some strain of barbarism in the imaginative outlook from which myths spring. A God who can be pleased by the sacrifice of an innocent girl could only be worshiped by men to whom the thought of receiving such a sacrifice is not wholly abhorrent187. A nation which believes that its welfare can only be secured by suffering and inflicting188 hundreds of thousands of equally horrible sacrifices, is a nation which has no very spiritual conception of what constitutes national welfare. It would be better a hundredfold to forgo189 material comfort, power, pomp, and outward glory116 than to kill and be killed, to hate and be hated, to throw away in a mad moment of fury the bright heritage of the ages. We have learnt gradually to free our God from the savagery190 with which the primitive Israelites and the Fathers endowed Him: few of us now believe that it is His pleasure to torture most of the human race in an eternity191 of hell-fire. But we have not yet learnt to free our national ideals from the ancient taint46. Devotion to the nation is perhaps the deepest and most widespread religion of the present age. Like the ancient religions, it demands its persecutions, its holocausts192, its lurid193 heroic cruelties; like them, it is noble, primitive, brutal, and mad. Now, as in the past, religion, lagging behind private consciences through the weight of tradition, steels the hearts of men against mercy and their minds against truth. If the world is to be saved, men must learn to be noble without being cruel, to be filled with faith and yet open to truth, to be inspired by great purposes without hating those who try to thwart132 them. But before this can happen, men must first face the terrible realization that the gods before whom they have bowed down were false gods and the sacrifices they have made were vain.
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1
maim
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| v.使残废，使不能工作，使伤残 | |
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labor
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| n.劳动，努力，工作，劳工；分娩；vi.劳动，努力，苦干；vt.详细分析；麻烦 | |
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vanquished
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| v.征服( vanquish的过去式和过去分词 )；战胜；克服；抑制 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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purely
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| adv.纯粹地，完全地 | |
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derived
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| vi.起源；由来；衍生；导出v.得到( derive的过去式和过去分词 )；（从…中）得到获得；源于；（从…中）提取 | |
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disturbances
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| n.骚乱( disturbance的名词复数 )；打扰；困扰；障碍 | |
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adverse
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| adj.不利的；有害的；敌对的，不友好的 | |
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previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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unity
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| n.团结，联合，统一；和睦，协调 | |
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distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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intervention
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| n.介入，干涉，干预 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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analogous
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| adj.相似的；类似的 | |
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interfere
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| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
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civilized
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| a.有教养的，文雅的 | |
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bellicose
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| adj.好战的；好争吵的 | |
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imminent
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| adj.即将发生的，临近的，逼近的 | |
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actively
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| adv.积极地，勤奋地 | |
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insignificant
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| adj.无关紧要的，可忽略的，无意义的 | |
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vividly
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| adv.清楚地，鲜明地，生动地 | |
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patriots
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| 爱国者，爱国主义者( patriot的名词复数 ) | |
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averse
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| adj.厌恶的；反对的，不乐意的 | |
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patriotic
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| adj.爱国的，有爱国心的 | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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coercion
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| n.强制，高压统治 | |
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aptitude
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| n.(学习方面的)才能，资质，天资 | |
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incitement
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| 激励； 刺激； 煽动； 激励物 | |
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persecution
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| n. 迫害,烦扰 | |
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defense
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| n.防御，保卫；[pl.]防务工事；辩护，答辩 | |
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supremacy
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| n.至上；至高权力 | |
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32
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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attainable
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| a.可达到的，可获得的 | |
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infinitely
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| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
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unbearable
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| adj.不能容忍的；忍受不住的 | |
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hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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inferno
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| n.火海；地狱般的场所 | |
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aloof
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| adj.远离的；冷淡的，漠不关心的 | |
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noxious
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| adj.有害的，有毒的；使道德败坏的，讨厌的 | |
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toads
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| n.蟾蜍，癞蛤蟆( toad的名词复数 ) | |
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loathing
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| n.厌恶，憎恨v.憎恨，厌恶( loathe的现在分词)；极不喜欢 | |
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42
inflict
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| vt.(on)把…强加给，使遭受，使承担 | |
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inflicted
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| 把…强加给，使承受，遭受( inflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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wincing
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| 赶紧避开，畏缩( wince的现在分词 ) | |
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45
frenzy
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| n.疯狂，狂热，极度的激动 | |
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46
taint
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| n.污点；感染；腐坏；v.使感染；污染 | |
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47
affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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tiresome
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| adj.令人疲劳的，令人厌倦的 | |
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49
mythical
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| adj.神话的；虚构的；想像的 | |
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passionately
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| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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51
swollen
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| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
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decrepit
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| adj.衰老的，破旧的 | |
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foliage
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| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
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vigor
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| n.活力，精力，元气 | |
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55
impeded
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| 阻碍，妨碍，阻止( impede的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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meditation
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| n.熟虑，（尤指宗教的）默想，沉思，（pl.）冥想录 | |
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remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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averting
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| 防止，避免( avert的现在分词 )； 转移 | |
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avert
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| v.防止，避免；转移(目光、注意力等) | |
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61
garb
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| n.服装，装束 | |
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humiliation
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| n.羞辱 | |
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subjective
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| a.主观(上)的，个人的 | |
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humiliated
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| 感到羞愧的 | |
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embarked
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| 乘船( embark的过去式和过去分词 )； 装载； 从事 | |
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abominable
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| adj.可厌的，令人憎恶的 | |
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habitual
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| adj.习惯性的；通常的，惯常的 | |
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futility
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| n.无用 | |
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advantageous
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| adj.有利的；有帮助的 | |
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cramped
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| a.狭窄的 | |
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alterations
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| n.改动( alteration的名词复数 )；更改；变化；改变 | |
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alteration
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| n.变更，改变；蚀变 | |
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incur
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| vt.招致，蒙受，遭遇 | |
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insistence
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| n.坚持；强调；坚决主张 | |
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bolster
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| n.枕垫；v.支持，鼓励 | |
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decrying
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| v.公开反对，谴责( decry的现在分词 ) | |
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strife
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| n.争吵，冲突，倾轧，竞争 | |
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judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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permanently
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| adv.永恒地，永久地，固定不变地 | |
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brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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brutality
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| n.野蛮的行为，残忍，野蛮 | |
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futile
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| adj.无效的，无用的，无希望的 | |
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constructive
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| adj.建设的，建设性的 | |
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machinery
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| n.(总称)机械，机器；机构 | |
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implant
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| vt.注入，植入，灌输 | |
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slaughter
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| n.屠杀，屠宰；vt.屠杀，宰杀 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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faculties
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| n.能力( faculty的名词复数 )；全体教职员；技巧；院 | |
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secondly
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| adv.第二，其次 | |
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specialized
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| adj.专门的，专业化的 | |
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circumscribed
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| adj.[医]局限的：受限制或限于有限空间的v.在…周围划线( circumscribe的过去式和过去分词 )；划定…范围；限制；限定 | |
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aptitudes
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| （学习方面的）才能，资质，天资( aptitude的名词复数 ) | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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plow
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| n.犁，耕地，犁过的地；v.犁，费力地前进[英]plough | |
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supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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nemesis
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| n.给以报应者，复仇者，难以对付的敌手 | |
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ennui
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| n.怠倦，无聊 | |
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realization
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| n.实现；认识到，深刻了解 | |
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stimulate
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| vt.刺激，使兴奋；激励，使…振奋 | |
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avenged
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| v.为…复仇，报…之仇( avenge的过去式和过去分词 )；为…报复 | |
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plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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horrid
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| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
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thrift
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| adj.节约，节俭；n.节俭，节约 | |
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primitive
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| adj.原始的；简单的；n.原(始)人，原始事物 | |
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repression
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| n.镇压，抑制，抑压 | |
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psychology
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| n.心理，心理学，心理状态 | |
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107
irrational
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| adj.无理性的，失去理性的 | |
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108
instinctive
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| adj.(出于)本能的；直觉的；(出于)天性的 | |
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109
liberator
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| 解放者 | |
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victorious
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| adj.胜利的，得胜的 | |
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111
undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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112
humane
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| adj.人道的，富有同情心的 | |
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113
perils
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| 极大危险( peril的名词复数 )； 危险的事（或环境） | |
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114
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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115
subdue
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| vt.制服，使顺从，征服；抑制，克制 | |
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sane
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| adj.心智健全的，神志清醒的，明智的，稳健的 | |
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117
sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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118
jointly
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| ad.联合地，共同地 | |
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119
curbed
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| v.限制，克制，抑制( curb的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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120
precarious
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| adj.不安定的，靠不住的；根据不足的 | |
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121
stagnant
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| adj.不流动的，停滞的，不景气的 | |
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122
solidarity
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| n.团结；休戚相关 | |
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123
outlet
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| n.出口/路；销路；批发商店；通风口；发泄 | |
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124
radically
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| ad.根本地，本质地 | |
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125
enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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126
intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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127
consonant
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| n.辅音；adj.[音]符合的 | |
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128
earnings
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| n.工资收人；利润，利益，所得 | |
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129
inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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130
opposition
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| n.反对，敌对 | |
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131
thwarting
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| 阻挠( thwart的现在分词 )； 使受挫折； 挫败； 横过 | |
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thwart
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| v.阻挠，妨碍，反对；adj.横(断的) | |
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exertion
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| n.尽力，努力 | |
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renaissance
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| n.复活，复兴，文艺复兴 | |
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intensifies
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| n.（使）增强， （使）加剧( intensify的名词复数 )v.（使）增强， （使）加剧( intensify的第三人称单数 ) | |
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136
federation
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| n.同盟，联邦，联合，联盟，联合会 | |
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137
dictate
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| v.口授；(使)听写；指令，指示，命令 | |
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attentively
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| adv.聚精会神地；周到地；谛；凝神 | |
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139
effrontery
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| n.厚颜无耻 | |
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140
preposterous
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| adj.荒谬的，可笑的 | |
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141
obedience
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| n.服从，顺从 | |
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142
doctrine
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| n.教义；主义；学说 | |
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143
tyrants
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| 专制统治者( tyrant的名词复数 )； 暴君似的人； （古希腊的）僭主； 严酷的事物 | |
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144
annex
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| vt.兼并，吞并；n.附属建筑物 | |
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145
exhaustion
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| n.耗尽枯竭，疲惫，筋疲力尽，竭尽，详尽无遗的论述 | |
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146
administrative
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| adj.行政的，管理的 | |
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147
hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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148
judicially
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| 依法判决地，公平地 | |
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infringed
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| v.违反（规章等）( infringe的过去式和过去分词 )；侵犯（某人的权利）；侵害（某人的自由、权益等） | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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dominions
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| 统治权( dominion的名词复数 )； 领土； 疆土； 版图 | |
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annexation
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| n.吞并，合并 | |
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153
farce
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| n.闹剧，笑剧，滑稽戏；胡闹 | |
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154
allied
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| adj.协约国的；同盟国的 | |
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155
autonomous
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| adj.自治的；独立的 | |
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156
diplomacy
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| n.外交；外交手腕，交际手腕 | |
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157
iniquitous
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| adj.不公正的；邪恶的；高得出奇的 | |
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158
entente
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| n.协定；有协定关系的各国 | |
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159
devastated
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| v.彻底破坏( devastate的过去式和过去分词)；摧毁；毁灭；在感情上（精神上、财务上等）压垮adj.毁坏的；极为震惊的 | |
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omnipotent
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| adj.全能的，万能的 | |
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161
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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grievances
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| n.委屈( grievance的名词复数 )；苦衷；不满；牢骚 | |
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oligarchy
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| n.寡头政治 | |
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164
liking
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| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
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affinities
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| n.密切关系( affinity的名词复数 )；亲近；（生性）喜爱；类同 | |
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166
isolated
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| adj.与世隔绝的 | |
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167
cohesion
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| n.团结，凝结力 | |
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168
fervor
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| n.热诚；热心；炽热 | |
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169
patriotism
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| n.爱国精神，爱国心，爱国主义 | |
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170
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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solely
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| adv.仅仅，唯一地 | |
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172
annihilated
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| v.（彻底）消灭( annihilate的过去式和过去分词 )；使无效；废止；彻底击溃 | |
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173
cataclysm
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| n.洪水，剧变，大灾难 | |
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174
motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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175
accustom
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| vt.使适应，使习惯 | |
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176
deities
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| n.神，女神( deity的名词复数 )；神祗；神灵；神明 | |
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177
virtuous
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| adj.有品德的，善良的，贞洁的，有效力的 | |
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178
accomplices
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| 从犯，帮凶，同谋( accomplice的名词复数 ) | |
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179
absurdity
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| n.荒谬，愚蠢；谬论 | |
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180
sycophants
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| n.谄媚者，拍马屁者( sycophant的名词复数 ) | |
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181
overthrew
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| overthrow的过去式 | |
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182
brigand
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| n.土匪，强盗 | |
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183
glamour
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| n.魔力，魅力；vt.迷住 | |
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184
testament
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| n.遗嘱；证明 | |
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185
heroism
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| n.大无畏精神，英勇 | |
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186
dispelled
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| v.驱散，赶跑( dispel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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187
abhorrent
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| adj.可恶的，可恨的，讨厌的 | |
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188
inflicting
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| 把…强加给，使承受，遭受( inflict的现在分词 ) | |
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189
forgo
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| v.放弃，抛弃 | |
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190
savagery
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| n.野性 | |
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191
eternity
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| n.不朽，来世；永恒，无穷 | |
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192
holocausts
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| n.大屠杀( holocaust的名词复数 ) | |
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193
lurid
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| adj.可怕的；血红的；苍白的 | |
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