Sivut kuvina
PDF
ePub

of the homes in the village to make a sudden venture in trust and decide to leave his vaults open. He may have a legal and even a moral right to collect interest on his mortgages, yet it is not an insistence on rights, but a sacrifice of rights for the sake of fellowship, which finally creates that type of relationship in which there is security without recourse to force.

II

Applied specifically to our own and other nations, this means that the moral task which faces our generation is to persuade groups-groups of every kind, but particularly nations

to a measure of unselfishness as well as to a measure of trust toward their neighbors. That is a formidable task. Groups have never been unselfish in the slightest degree. L. P. Jacks has observed that all human groups tend to be predatory. Henry Adams, who shrewdly observed the statesmen of England equivocate on the slavery issue during the Civil War until they could determine their course by considerations of expediency, came to the melancholy conviction: 'Masses of men are always prompted by interest rather than conscience. Morality is a private, and a costly, luxury.'

One reason why modern civilization finds itself in such moral chaos is that inter-group relationships are increasingly becoming more important than intra-group relationships without becoming as moral. It is difficult to introduce ethical attitudes into the relations between groups, partly because these relationships are comparatively recent and partly because the individual, even if he possesses a sensitive conscience, is not inclined to demand ethical actions of his group as long as his own attitude toward the group is ethical. There is an increasing tendency among modern

men to imagine themselves ethical because they have delegated their vices to larger and larger groups. Yet the groups are not large enough to give moral unity to mankind, and the whole process may simply tend to make the next war an intercontinental war, a real world war instead of merely a Western World war.

Ethical individuals tend to condone unethical group actions partly because their individual attitude toward their group easily obscures the essentially selfish attitude of the group; but partly it is a strategy by which they are able to indulge their weaknesses without seeming to do so. We are proud, as white men, in our relation to other races because there is comparatively little opportunity to indulge our pride among white men. If we bully Mexico, that is partly to compensate ourselves for the lost opportunities of bullying individual neighbors.

Sometimes group selfishness is further aggravated by the inability of the individual citizen to see the consequences of national action in the attitudes of other nations who are geographically remote but in intimate economic contact with our own nation. America to-day has a standard of living in such flagrant disproportion to that of any other part of the world that it is arousing the envy of practically every nation. Dispassionate observers agree that America is falling into disfavor in every part of the world because the world is either envious of our luxury or afraid of our economic power. The envy may be unethical, but it is inevitable; and fear may not be justified by any malice in our hearts, but it is natural. A belligerently nationalistic paper recently criticized President Coolidge for insisting that we shall not arouse the mistrust of the world by increasing our armaments. The world hates us, so ran so ran the

argument of the journalistic critic,not for our armaments, but for our tariff and our immigration policy. The point would seem to be well taken. The feeling which the question of Interallied debts has created in European countries is but a symptom of a general attitude toward us which is prompted by the fact that we live in a paradise that is protected by the two walls of the tariff and immigration restriction. Our immigration policy might be ethically defended by the reflection that as long as there is no universal birth control any effort to equalize the relation of national resources to population must prove abortive. Yet it is not this consideration which prompts our policy. We simply assume, as does every other nation, that it is our duty, as well as our right, to protect and preserve any advantages which our citizens may enjoy above those of other peoples.

Millions of Americans, not all of them thoroughgoing pacifists, of course, who are passionate in their espousal of world peace and disarmament, have never given the slightest consideration to these economic realities. They want America to trust the world and are sure that the world will in turn trust America. Their faith is too naïve. They do not realize that a nation cannot afford to trust anyone if it is not willing to go to the length of sharing its advantages. Love which expresses itself in trust without expressing itself in sacrifice is futile. It is not thoroughgoing enough to be creative or redemptive.

Since it is more difficult for groups than for individuals to moralize their actions, and since nations have long enjoyed complete moral autonomy, it would be foolish to expect any immediate or easy spiritualizing of national conduct; nor is it necessary to postpone every policy of international trust until nations have become completely

ethical in their conduct. But it is obvious that it is at least as important to create an unselfish national attitude as to adopt policies of mutual trust. This fact is easily obscured, particularly in those nations which for the moment enjoy the highest privileges. There are Continental cynics and shrewd observers in other parts of the world who slyly suggest that pacifism is a virtue which only the two great Anglo-Saxon nations are able to enjoy. The implication is that England and America are the only two really solvent nations in the Western World, and that, since they have what they want and need, it is to their interest to preach peace. The hungry nations will meanwhile fail to react to this moral idealism. They will shrewdly and cynically observe that it is always the tendency of those who have to extol the virtue of peace and order and to place those who have not at a moral disadvantage.

It is quite impossible for the strong to be redemptive in their relation to the weak if they are not willing to share the weakness of the weak, or at least to equalize in some degree the disproportion of advantages.

III

It is for this reason that the ‘outlawry of war' idea so passionately espoused by many Americans takes so little root in Europe. The 'outlawry of war' programme is practically to adopt pacifism on a mutual and international scale, to persuade the nations of the earth simultaneously to disavow the use of force. Logically and legally the plan seems perfect. But it is weak psychologically. In a sense it is typically American; for America is sufficiently impregnable in her position to be emancipated from the fear complexes which disturb European,

particularly Continental, nations, and she is sufficiently privileged to desire the use of force no more for purposes of aggression than for needs of defense. Meanwhile the insistence of many American peace idealists that America must not enter Europe and make its problems ours until Europe disavows the use of force merely tends to become an ethical sublimation of an essentially selfish national position. It gives moral sanction to a policy of isolation which has its real basis in quite other considerations. The real reason why we do not associate intimately with Europe is that we have many advantages which might be sacrificed in a too intimate fellowship. The general effect of the outlawry programme is to beguile a nation which stands aloof to preserve the advantages of its strength into believing that it stands alone to preserve the advantages of its virtue.

In this connection it is to be noted that some of our statesmen and publicists who are most critical of European armaments and the alleged sanction of war in the Covenant of the League of Nations are the very ones who are most unyielding in the matter of Interallied debts. Senator Borah, who is in many respects the most honest and rugged statesman in Washington, and whose attitude in regard to Oriental and South American questions is probably the greatest single force for the moralizing of our national conduct, is singularly obtuse in regard to this European problem. For the peace of the world it would be an immeasurable advantage if we could forget some of our moral scruples against Europe for the sake of entering into a more intimate fellowship with her, in which there might be some chance of mitigating the fears and hatreds which American wealth and strength are creating in impoverished Europe.

In a sense our advocates of national

VOL. 139-NO. 5

C

preparedness represent the sober common sense of the nation against the moral obfuscation of many peace enthusiasts. A strong and privileged nation, strong enough to be emancipated from the fear of any immediate attack, and privileged enough to need nothing which the force of arms might be able to secure, may indulge the peace ideal for the moment. But ultimately both its strength and its privilege will incite enmity and aggression. Except it uses its strength more wisely than seems probable from past history, and shares its privileges more unselfishly than any nation has yet been inclined to, it is bound to array the world against it. That is the prospect which America faces.

Those of us who are pacifists ought to realize more clearly than we do that spiritual attitudes can never guarantee us security in the possession of material advantages. There is much to be said for the position that a civilization and a culture may not only be protected without the use of force, but that they can be maintained incorruptibly in no other way. But it requires an army to preserve a higher standard of living than the rest of the world enjoys. An essentially selfish nation cannot afford to be trusting. Its selfishness destroys the redemptive and morally creative power of its trust.

Many individual idealists are taking the justified position that the best way to bring unethical groups under ethical control is to disassociate themselves clearly from the unethical conduct of the group, at whatever cost. Too few of them have realized that, if such action is to be morally redemptive, it must disassociate the individual not only from the policy of using physical force but from the policy of insisting on material advantages which destroy human fellowship and make the use of force necessary.

JALNA: A NOVEL

BY MAZO DE LA ROCHE

WAKEFIELD WHITEOAK ran on and on, faster and faster, till he could run no farther. He did not know why he had suddenly increased his speed. He did not even know why he ran. When, out of breath, he threw himself face down on the new spring sod of the meadow, he completely forgot that he had been running at all, and lay, his cheek pressed against the tender grass, his heart thudding against his ribs, without a thought in his head. He was no more happy or unhappy than the April wind that raced across his body or the young grass that quivered with life beneath it.

A delicious drowsiness stole over him. A tender recollection of the lovely warm breakfast he had eaten filled him with peace. He wondered if it were still in his stomach, or had already changed into blood and bone and muscle. Such a breakfast should do a great deal of good. He clenched the hand belonging to the arm stretched under his head to test its muscle. Yes, it felt stronger- no doubt about that. If he kept on eating such breakfasts the day would come when he would not stand any nonsense from Finch, nor from any of his brothers, even up to Renny. He supposed he would always let Meg bully him; but then, Meg was a woman. A fellow could n't hit a woman, even though she was his sister.

There came no sound of a footstep to warn him. He simply felt himself

I

helpless in the grasp of two iron hands. He was dazed by a shake and set roughly on his feet, facing his eldest brother, who was frowning sternly. The two clumber spaniels at his heels jumped on Wakefield, licking his face and almost knocking him down in their joy at discovering him.

Renny, still gripping his shoulder, demanded: 'Why are you loafing about here, when you ought to be at Mr. Fennel's? Do you know what time it is? Where are your books?'

Wakefield tried to wriggle away. He ignored the two first questions, feeling instinctively that the third led to less dangerous channels. 'Left them at Mr. Fennel's yesterday,' he murmured.

'Left them at Fennel's! How the devil did you expect to do your home work?'

Wakefield thought a moment. 'I used an old book of Finch's for my Latin. I knew the poetry already. The history lesson was just to be the same thing over again, so's I'd have time to think up my opinion of Cromwell. The Scripture, of course, I could get out of Meg's Bible at home, and he warmed to his subject, his large dark eyes shining-‘and I was doing the arithmetic in my head as you came along.' He looked earnestly up into his brother's face.

'A likely story.' But Renny was somewhat confused by the explanation, as he was meant to be. 'Now look here, Wake, I don't want to be

hard on you, but you've got to do better. Do you suppose I pay Mr. Fennel to teach you for the fun of it? Just because you're too delicate to go to school is n't any excuse for your being an idle little beast without an idea in your head but play. What have you got in your pockets?'

'Marbles just a few, Renny.'
'Hand them over.'

Renny held out his hand while the marbles were reluctantly extracted from the child's pockets and heaped on his palm. Wakefield did not feel in the least like crying, but his sense of the dramatic prompted him to shed tears as he handed over his treasures. He could always cry when he wanted to. He had only to shut his eyes tightly a moment, and repeat to himself, ‘Oh, how terrible! How terrible!'-and in a moment the tears would come. When he made up his mind not to cry, no amount of abuse would make him. Now, as he dropped the marbles into Renny's hand, he secretly moaned the magic formula: 'Oh, how terrible! How terrible!' His chest heaved, the muscles in his throat throbbed, and soon tears trickled down his cheeks like rain.

Renny pocketed the marbles. 'No sniveling now.' But he did not say it unkindly. 'And see that you're not late for dinner.' He lounged away, calling his dogs.

Wakefield took out his handkerchief, a clean one, still folded in a little square, put in his pocket by his sister that morning, and wiped his eyes. He watched Renny's tall, retreating figure till Renny looked back over his shoulder at him, then he broke into a jog trot toward the Rectory. But the freedom of the morning was no longer his. He was full of care, a slender, sallow boy of nine whose dark brown eyes seemed too large for his pointed face, wearing a greenish tweed

jacket and shorts and green stockings that showed his bare brown knees.

He crossed the field, climbed a sagging rail fence, and began to trot along a path that led beside a muddy, winding road. Soon the blacksmith shop appeared, noisy and friendly, between two majestic elms. An oriole was darting to and fro, from elm to elm, and, when the clanging on the anvil ceased for a moment, its sweet liquid song was scattered down in a shower. Wakefield stopped in the doorway to rest.

'Good morning, John,' he said to John Chalk, the smith, who was paring the hoof of a huge hairy-legged farm horse.

'Good morning,' answered Chalk, glancing up with a smile, for he and Wake were old friends. 'It's a fine day.'

'A fine day for those that have time to enjoy it. I've got beastly old lessons to do.'

'I suppose you don't call what I'm doing work, eh?' returned Chalk.

'Oh, well, it's nice work. Interesting work. Not like history and comp.' 'What's comp?'

'Composition. You write about things you're not interested in. Now, my last subject was a Spring Walk.'

'Well, that ought to be easy. You've just had one.'

'Oh, but that's different. When you sit down to write about it, it all seems stupid. You begin, "I set out one fine spring morning" - and then you can't think of a single thing to write about.'

'Why not write about me?'

Wakefield gave a jeering laugh. 'Who'd want to read about you! This comp stuff has got to be read, don't you see?'

Conversation was impossible for a space, while the blacksmith hammered the shoe into place. Wakefield sniffed the delicious odor of burnt hoof that hung almost visibly on the air.

« EdellinenJatka »