Sec 1

The Massacre of Colleagues

The existence of war in the modern world is primarily a question for the moral philosopher. It may be of interest to the anthropologist to consider war as a gallant survival with an impressive ritual and a code of honour curiously detached from the social environment, like the Hindu suttee; or with a procedure euphemistically disguised, like some chthonic liturgy of ancient Athens. But it is a problem too broad for the anthropologist when we consider that we have reached a stage of civilisation which regards murder as the most detestable of crimes and deprives the murderer of all civil rights and often even of the natural right to live: while in the same community the organised massacre of our colleagues in civilisation is not only tolerated but assumed to be necessary by the principal expositors of law and religion, is the scientific occupation of the most honoured profession in the State, and constitutes the real sanction of all international intercourse.

Sec 2

The Widening Sphere of Morality

The existence of war stimulates the astonished watcher in the tower of ivory to examine the development, if any, of human morality; and to formulate some law of the process whereby political man has been differentiated from the savage.

Morality being a relation between two or more contracting parties, he will notice that the history of mankind is marked by a consistent tendency to extend this relation, to include in the system of relationships more numerous and more distant objects, so that the moral agent is surrounded by a continually widening sphere of obligations.

This system of relationship, which may be called the moral sphere, has grown up under a variety of influences, expediency, custom, religious emotion and political action; but the moral agents included in it at any given time are always bound to each other by a theoretical contract involving both rights and duties, and leading each to expect and to apply in all his dealings with the others a certain standard of conduct which is approximately fixed by the enlightened opinion of the majority for the benefit of the totality.

The moral sphere then is a contractual unit of two or more persons who agree to moderate their individual conduct for their common good: and the State itself is only a stage in the growth of this moral unit from its emergence out of primitive savagery to its superannuation in ultimate anarchy, commonly called the Millennium. The State indeed is a moral sphere, a moral unit, which has long been outgrown by enlightened opinion; and the trouble is that we are now in a transition stage in which the boundaries of the State survive as a limitation instead of setting an ideal of moral conduct.

Sec 3

The Receding God

I don’t know that it is necessary to drag God into the argument. But if you like to regard God as the sanction and source of morality, or if you like to call the moral drift in human affairs God, it is possible to consider this “Sphere of Morality” from His point of view. His “point of view” is precisely what, in an instructive fable, we may present as the determining factor in morality. When He walked in the garden or lurked hardly distinguishable among the sticks and stones of the forest, morality was just an understanding between a man and his neighbour, a temporary agreement entered on by any two hunting savages whom He might happen to espy between the tree-trunks. When He dwelt among the peaks of Sinai or Olympus, the sphere of morality had extended to the whole tribe that occupied the subjacent valley. It came to include the nation, all the subjects of each sovereign state, by the time He had receded to some heavenly throne above the dark blue sky. And it is to be hoped that He may yet take a broader view, so that His survey will embrace the whole of mankind, if only we can banish Him to a remoter altitude in the frozen depths of space, whence He can contemplate human affairs without being near enough to interfere.

The moral of this little myth of the Receding God may be that the Sphere of Morality is extended in inverse proportion to the intensity of theological interference. Not that theology necessarily or always deliberately limits the domain of morality: but because the extension of moral relations and the relegation of anthropomorphic theology are co-ordinate steps in human advancement.

Sec 4

The Philosopher looks at Society

The philosopher is apt to explain the growth and interrelation of ideas by tabulating them in an historical form, which may not be narrowly, chronologically, or “historically” true. The notion of the Social Contract may be philosophically true, though we are not to imagine the citizens of Rousseau’s State coming together on a certain day to vote by show of hands, like the members of the Bognor Urban District Council. So we may illustrate a theory of moral or social evolution by a sort of historical pageant, which will not be journalistically exact, but will give a true picture of an ideal development, every scene of which can be paralleled by some actually known or inferred form of human life.

Sec 5

Homo Homini Lupus

Our imagination, working subconsciously on a number of laboriously accumulated hints, a roomful of chipped or polished stones, the sifted debris of Swiss palafittes, a few pithecoid jawbones, some painted rocks from Salamanca, produces a fairly definite picture of the earliest essentially human being on earth: and we recognise a man not unlike one of ourselves; with a similar industry interrupted from time to time by the arbitrary stirrings of a similar artistic impulse; so close to us indeed that some of his habits still survive among us. Some of us at least have made a recreation of his necessity, and still go hunting wild or hypothetically wild animals for food. But when this primeval hunter emerged from his lair in the forest or his valley-cave, he was prepared to attack at sight any man he happened to meet: and he thought himself a fine fellow if he succeeded in cracking the skull of a possible rival in love or venery. This was the age of preventive aggression with a vengeance. We still feel a certain satisfaction in a prompt and crushing blow, and in the simplicity of violence. But we no longer attack our neighbour in the street, as dogs fight over a bone or over nothing at all: though some of us reserve the right to snarl.

Sec 6

Tribe against Tribe

But this fighter’s paradise was too exciting to last long; and indeed it is hard to visualise steadily the feral solitary man who lived without any social organisation at all. Consideration like an angel came and did not indeed drive the offending devil out of him but taught him to guide it into more profitable channels, by co-operating with his neighbour. When a man first made peace with the hunter in the next cave in order to go out with him against the bear at the head of the valley, or even to have his assistance in carrying off a couple of women from the family down by the lake, on that day the social and moral unit was constituted, the sphere of morality, destined, who knows how soon, to include the whole of mankind in one beneficent alliance, began with what Professor McDougal has called “the replacement of individual by collective pugnacity.” The first clear stage in this progress is the tribe or clan, the smallest organised community, sometimes no larger than the self-contained village or camp, which can still be found in the wild parts of the earth. Tribe against tribe is the formula of this order of civilisation. Within the limits of the community man inhibits his natural impulses and settles his personal disputes according to the rules laid down by the headman or chief. But once outside the stockade he can kill and plunder at will, though owing to the similarly strong organisation of the next village he will usually reserve his predatory exploits for the official and collective raids of village against village and tribe against tribe.

Of course the family is a step leading up to the tribal stage of morality, and it may be that the idea of incest marks the social stage in which the moral sphere was conterminous with the family, corresponding to the institution of exogamy in the moral system of the tribe.

It may be added that even in the modern family the feeling which unites the members often consists less, very much less, of affection than of a sort of obligation to hang together for mutual defence.

Sec 7

The City State

The City State, self-contained, self-supporting, truly democratic, is marked by a similar pugnacity. Only full citizenship conferred full moral rights, and any ferocity could be justified in war against another city. Athens wore herself out in the long struggle with Sparta, and Greece was lured to destruction by the devil of Imperialism, whose stock argument is to suggest that a State can extend its rights without extending its obligations. But the limitation of the moral sphere by the boundaries of the city is less apparent in the Greek States, because in the historical period at least they were already in transition to a larger view, and enlightened opinion certainly believed in a moral system which should include all Greek States, to the exclusion of course of all “barbarians”: but this larger view was even more definitely limited, and the demarcation of those within from those outside the moral sphere was never more sharply conceived, than in the difference commonly held to exist between Greeks and Barbarians. Yet even so Greece can maintain her pre-eminence in thought; for Plato and Euripides at least glimpsed the conception, by which we do not yet consent to be guided, of the moral equality of all mankind.

For all these reasons the City State as a limited moral sphere is better seen perhaps in Mediaeval Italy, where, I imagine, a Florentine might kill a native of Pisa whenever he liked; whereas if he killed a fellow Florentine he risked at least the necessity of putting himself outside the moral sphere, of having that is to leave Florence and stay in Pisa till the incident was forgotten.

Sec 8

The Nations of Europe ferae naturae

In the next and latest stage in the expansion of the moral system we find it again conterminous with the frontiers of the State. But it is now no longer the small city state of Ancient Greece and Mediaeval Italy, but the large political unit, roughly and hypothetically national, which constitutes the modern State, whether Kingdom, Republic, or Empire. I have called this the latest stage in the extension of the sphere of morality because it is the one which actually prevails and limits our national conduct. For the paradox of legal murder and massacre in the modern world is resolved as soon as we realise that war is a conflict between two or more isolated moral systems, each of which only regards violence as a crime to be suppressed within the limits of its own validity. International warfare in its crudest form is only a manifestation of the original wolfish state of man, the “state of nature” which exists between two moral agents who have no moral obligation to each other (but only to themselves). The fact that the primitive savage was an individual moral agent having no moral obligation to anyone but himself, while the modern fighting nation is a moral agent of who knows how many millions, does not alter the essential character of the conflict.

Sec 9

The Convenience of Diplomacy

As a matter of fact this original wolfish attitude of nations is already obsolete, if it ever existed. The expansion and growth of political and moral relations is a gradual process, and the fact that for the sake of brevity and clearness we fix and describe certain arbitrary points in that process must not be taken to imply that it is discontinuous. Anyhow there is no doubt that the specifically wolfish attitude of one nation to another can hardly be found in its pure state, being already tempered and mitigated by the practice and custom of diplomacy: and this diplomatic mitigation, however superficial, does something to break down that windowless isolation which is the essential cause of violence between two independent moral entities. Pacificists of the democratic school sometimes present a fallacious view of international diplomacy, and almost imply that the present war was made inevitable by the fact that Viscount Grey was educated at Harrow, or that peace could have been preserved with Germany if only Sir Edward Goschen had begun life as a coal heaver, or had at least been elected by the National Union of Boilermakers. Their panacea they vaguely call the democratic control of Foreign Affairs, though it is not clear why we should expect twenty million still ignorant voters to be more enlightened than one educated representative who is, as a matter of fact, usually so much oppressed by a due sense of his responsibility that he is in danger of bungling only from excessive timidity. The experience of the Law Courts shows that twelve men, be they never so good and true, cannot at present be trusted to weigh and discriminate as nicely as one; and the fact that the Daily Mail has the largest circulation of any morning paper is a sufficient mark of the present capacity and inclination of the majority to control public affairs more directly than they do. It is said that the secrecy of diplomatic affairs breeds an atmosphere of suspicion; and it might be said with equal truth that all secrecy of every kind is always and everywhere the most unnecessary thing in the world. But the fundamental fallacy of all these arguments is that they treat diplomacy as an essential of international relations, whereas it is only an accident, a trapping, a convenience, or a common form. Its defects are the result and the reflection of national opinion. Diplomatists are no more responsible for the defects of international relationship than seconds are responsible for the practice of duelling: and we may note incidentally that duels are if anything more frequent when the place of the seconds in estimating their necessity is taken by a democratic court of honour.

Sec 10

A Note on Democracy

The outcry for “democratic” control demands, I think, a note, if not a volume, on the limitations of democracy. We are all, I suppose, agreed nowadays that the government of the future must be democratic, in the sense that every adult has a right to full citizenship, and every citizen can claim a vote. But it is obviously impossible for a modern State to be governed directly by the voices of say fifty or a hundred million citizens: there must always be a small legislative and a still smaller executive body; and these bodies should obviously be composed of the finest and most capable citizens. If then Aristocracy means, as it does mean, a government of the whole by the best elements, it follows that we are all equally agreed that the government of the future must be aristocratic. The solution of this antinomy is of course that democracy is not an end in itself, but only a means for the selection and sanction of aristocracy. The best elements in the population can only come to the top if every man has an opportunity of using his voice and his intelligence. We may note in passing that a common objection, raised by writers like Emile Faguet, to the effect that democracy puts a premium on incompetence by choosing its officials almost fortuitously from the mob, is the exact opposite of the truth. It is our present regime that leaves the selection of our rulers to the chances of birth or wealth or forensic success. Real democracy will stimulate the selection of the best, just as trade union standardisation of wages encourages the employment of the better workmen.

Sec 11

Diplomacy not bad in itself

The real importance of diplomacy, as I have said, is in the fact that it is a mitigation of primary ferocity, a symptom of readiness to negotiate, a recognition of the fact that disputes need not be settled by immediate violence: and as such it points to a time when war may be superseded, as personal combat has been superseded by litigation. The man who puts a quarrel with his neighbour into the hands of a legal representative is a stage higher in social civilisation than the man who fights it out at sight. Diplomats are the legal representatives of nations only there is no supernational court before which they can state their case.

Of course, it is perfectly true that the ultimate sanction of diplomacy is always force, that international negotiations may always be resolved into a series of polite threats, and that the envoy of the small and weak nation rarely has any influence. Indeed there are few less enviable situations than that of the minister of a very small State at the court of a very large one. But the mere fact that force is their sanction does not ipso facto dispose of diplomatic and arbitrational methods. We all know that the force at the disposal of the Sovereign is the ultimate sanction of Law. But that force never has to be fully exerted because there is a common consent to respect the Law and its officers.

Sec 12

Manners no Substitute for Morals

The real difference between legal methods and the methods of diplomacy (in which I here include international conversations of every sort) is that the latter take place, as it were, in a vacuum. There is no Sovereign, no common denominator, no unifying system in which both parties are related by their common obligations. They exist and act in two separate moral spheres, and no real intercourse is possible between them. For all their ambassadors and diplomatic conferences the nations of Europe are only wolves with good manners. And manners, as we all know, are no substitute for morals.

Sec 13

War a Moral Anachronism

Thus we come back to our thesis that war is not only possible but inevitable so long as the extent of the moral sphere is conterminous with the frontiers of the State. But merely to explain laboriously that all this organised killing is not really a paradox but the natural accompaniment of a certain stage of moral development, and to leave it at that, would be rather to exaggerate our philosophic detachment. The point is that we are long past the stage of regarding any but our fellow-subjects as moral outlaws. For some years, to say the least, it has been generally received that the sphere of morality is co-extensive with mankind. In spite of certain lingering exceptions, it is to-day a commonplace of thought that every human being on the earth is our colleague in civilisation; is a member that is of the human race, which finding itself on this earth has got somehow to make the best of it; is a shareholder in the human asset of self-consciousness which we are called upon to exploit. It would certainly be hard to find a man of what we have called enlightened opinions who would not profess, whatever his private feelings, that it is as great a crime to kill a Hottentot or a Jew as to kill an Englishman. With certain lingering exceptions then we already regard the foreigner as a member of our own moral system. The moral sphere has already extended or is at least in course of extension to its ultimate limits: and war is a survival from the penultimate stage of morality. War, to put it mildly, is a moral anachronism. War between European nations is civil war. Logically all war should be recognised at once, at any rate by enlightened opinion, as the crime, the disaster, the ultimate disgrace that it obviously is. Why then do we cling to the implications of a system that we have grown out of? Why do we affect the limitation of boundaries that have been already extended? Or is our prison so lovely that though the walls fall down we refuse to walk out into the air?