I have described it as a characteristic of our age that we are rising above the stream of traditions which flows from civilisation to civilisation, and are discovering that some of its sources are tainted. Now in the case of warfare this scrutiny of the origin and course of our traditions is comparatively easy. What we have discovered is so well known, and so little disputed, that it need hardly be related. It may be useful to state, at least, that very early man was probably not a combative and bloodthirsty savage. He lives to-day in such lowly peoples as the Veddahs and the Yahgans, and they are generally peaceful and averse from brawling. In this primitive man, however, there slumbered all the impulsive passion of earlier ancestors, and it was inevitable that a cultural rise should awaken it. When men became organised in tribes, when they became hunters and tillers of the soil, when they increased and wandered far afield, quarrels arose over women and hunting grounds and other necessaries, and the institution of warfare was established. Within the tribe there was already some kind of court, as a rule, before which a man could bring his neighbour for wrong-doing. For the quarrel between tribe and tribe there was no judge: the verdict lay with the heavier weapon and the stouter arm. Hence, the higher the intelligence of the tribe, the more deadly and widespread became the carnage. Ferocity became a useful social quality—a virtue, indeed, the supreme virtue, or virtus (manliness)—and the primitive genius was expended in making more cruel and lacerating the barbs of the arrow and the spear. The administration of justice advanced, and a time came when private vengeance, and even family feuds, were strictly forbidden and regarded as crimes. But, while ten men might not go to war against ten men, ten thousand would march out, with the sonorous blessing of their priests, to the more barbaric butchery of war against ten thousand. The mind had to grow larger, the heart more human, before the reign of justice would be acknowledged in the relations of masses of men to each other as well as in the relations of individuals.
With the dawn of civilisation a terrible paradox occurred. Warfare was not abolished, but made more destructive. Again we find this a natural and intelligible development. Each early civilisation found itself surrounded by barbaric tribes, with which no compact of justice could be established or trusted. The great Stoic humanitarians of Rome, who preached the brotherhood of men and denounced violence, dared not, in the interest of civilisation, plead disarmament. There were, of course, moral sophisms in support of this plain need. The profit of aggression, the prestige of conquering, were adorned with phrases akin to our “white man’s burden.” Yet it is true that until modern times warfare could not have been abolished without grave danger to civilisation. The crime of warfare became a crime only in these later centuries. Now that fully three-fourths of the race are gathered into civilised states, a compact of justice, an international tribunal with an international executive, is possible; and we are guilty, either of a base hypocrisy or a ghastly insensibility to our gravest interests, in refusing to set up that compulsory international tribunal.
No writer will be expected to discuss patiently to-day the pitiful sophistry with which, until yesterday, a few defended the retention of the military institution. Germany resounded with, and England and France and the United States echoed here and there, the pompous and hollow claims of its Treitschkes and Moltkes. War was a splendid moral discipline: an institution appointed by Providence for purging the race of sloth and materialism, for restoring chivalry and brightening the shield of honour and rebuking selfishness. War has grimly belied its apologists and we need notice them no longer. It has betrayed one of the greatest nations of modern times into horrors and outrages which are a supreme and eternal mockery of their moral claims for it.
Others more justly claimed that war develops the virility, the endurance, the power of men. The lesson of history, they said, is on the side of war: the great empires of the world became great by their heroism and sacrifices on the field of battle. Here we must distinguish carefully. It is obviously true that these empires became big, powerful, and wealthy by war; and if any nation candidly confesses that it relies on war to increase its territory, its power, and its wealth, its argument is unanswerable. But there is now no nation in the world that professes to maintain an army and a navy for the purpose of aggression and expansion. Even Germany, which undoubtedly did construct its massive armament for that purpose, had not the audacity to admit it. Defence is the justifying title and, in so far as it is sincere, it is a just title. If, as long as the military system lasts, an army and a navy of a certain strength are required, in the judgment of appointed experts, for the defence of a country and its institutions, we pay our share willingly for the maintenance of such an army and navy, and we respect our soldiers and sailors. I do not for one moment advocate the disarmament of one nation living amidst armed neighbours; and a partial disarmament, or an insufficient armament, is the surest provocation of war. My point is that, since the world has reached such a pitch of moral development that each nation now professes to arm only against the possible aggression of a neighbour, the time has come for them to agree upon the infinitely less costly and more reliable way of settling their possible quarrels as individuals do. Only one nation, Germany, seems to be genuinely opposed to this, not so much from native malice of character as from very serious domestic reasons for aggression: and a perfect opportunity now arises for effectively impressing on Germany the fact that she has come too late into the family of Great Powers for filibustering.
As to the development of physique and endurance and discipline, it is too obvious that this could be attained by athletic contests which are at present left to voluntary interest or to the unattractive manoeuvres of professional exploiters. For years I have followed professional football with keen pleasure, and I was interested when, at the outbreak of war, men cried that these footballers were the most superb material for our recruiting agents. It was perfectly true. Any State which is sincerely eager to develop the physique and endurance of its citizens can do it by the use of devices which will provide most enjoyable spectacles and national or international festivals instead of periodic orgies of blood and tears. The defenders of war must be hard pressed for argument when they plead this necessity. There is, moreover, one supreme difference between war and athletics as instruments of training. War destroys what it creates: athletics keeps its men among our citizens and breeders.
The truth is that the whole historical argument for war, which has had an incalculable influence in the education of Germany, is a miserable fallacy. The real lesson of history is that militarism has been a malignant cancer, transmitted from one empire to another, and, by destroying them, it has hundreds of times suspended the advance of civilisation. It is in a sense a fallacy to claim that any nation became great by war. The tribe which wins ascendancy over its neighbours does so because it is already more powerful, more numerous, or more fortunately situated. Then comes the period of expansion, when, as we admit, greater power and wealth and territory are undoubtedly won by the sword. This is the seductive phase of history, leading astray men like Ruskin as well as men like Mommsen and Niebuhr. Let us admit all its glories. Moral and humanitarian excesses are just as mischievous as immoral excesses. As a result of this successful war and expansion, the older empires were enabled to foster art, to protect their growing culture, to civilise vast stretches of the earth that might otherwise have lain uncivilised for ages.
Most assuredly war has, in this sense, been a most valuable influence in spreading civilisation over the earth. What modern historians forget is that the conditions have totally changed. Your empire is no longer surrounded by myriads of barbarians whom you must conquer before you can civilise. Germany has been forced to colour its aggression by the stupid pretence that it had a higher Kultur than its neighbours, and that, in endeavouring to impose it on them, it was carrying out the “law of history.” It is a pity that science and history ever adopted the word “law.” What they mean, of course, is only a summary of the way in which things uniformly occurred in certain conditions. Now that the conditions are entirely changed, the laws have no application. One might suggest that we still need armies to conquer and civilise the outstanding barbaric peoples. We do not. We need an international armed force to check their aggressions, but there are other and better methods of civilising them. In any case, this plea has no relation to the vast armies and navies and the bloody wars we actually endure.
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