Synopsis
Chapter I (pp. 3-60) — Our Daily Bread
An examination of the present conditions in Europe shows that much of its dense population (particularly that of these islands) cannot live at a standard necessary for civilisation (leisure, social peace, individual freedom) except by certain co-operative processes which must be carried on largely across frontiers. (The prosperity of Britain depends on the production by foreigners of a surplus of food and raw material above their own needs.) The present distress is not mainly the result of the physical destruction of war (famine or shortage is worst, as in the Austrian and German and Russian areas, where there has been no destruction). The Continent as a whole has the same soil and natural resources and technical knowledge as when it fed its populations. The causes of its present failure at self-support are moral: economic paralysis following political disintegration, ‘Balkanisation’; that, in its turn, due to certain passions and prepossessions.
A corresponding phenomenon is revealed within each national society: a decline of production due to certain moral disorders, mainly in the political field; to ‘unrest,’ a greater cleavage between groups, rendering the indispensable co-operation less effective.
The necessary co-operation, whether as between nations or groups within each nation, cannot be compelled by physical coercion, though disruptive forces inseparable from the use of coercion can paralyse co-operation. Allied preponderance of power over Germany does not suffice to obtain indemnities, or even coal in the quantities demanded by the Treaty. The output of the workers in Great Britain would not necessarily be improved by adding to the army or police force. As interdependence increases, the limits of coercion are narrowed. Enemies that are to pay large indemnities must be permitted actively to develop their economic life and power; they are then so potentially strong that enforcement of the demands becomes correspondingly expensive and uncertain. Knowledge and organisation acquired by workers for the purposes of their labour can be used to resist oppression. Railwaymen or miners driven to work by force would still find means of resistance. A proletarian dictatorship cannot coerce the production of food by an unwilling peasantry. The processes by which wealth is produced have, by increasing complexity, become of a kind which can only be maintained if there be present a large measure of voluntary acquiescence, which means, in its turn, confidence. The need for that is only made the more imperative by the conditions which have followed the virtual suspension of the gold standard in all the belligerent States of Europe, the collapse of the exchanges and other manifestations of instability of the currencies.
European statesmanship, as revealed in the Treaty of Versailles, and in the conduct of international affairs since the Armistice, has recognised neither the fact of interdependence—the need for the economic unity of Europe—nor the futility of attempted coercion. Certain political ideas and passions give us an unworkable Europe. What is their nature? How have they arisen? How can they be corrected? These questions are part of the problem of sustenance; which is the first indispensable of civilisation.
Chapter II (pp. 61-80) — The Old Economy and the Post-War State
The trans-national processes which enabled Europe to support itself before the War were based mainly on private exchanges prompted by the expectation of individual advantage. They were not dependent upon political power. (The fifteen millions for whom German soil could not provide lived by trade with countries over which Germany had no political control, as a similar number of British live by similar non-political means.)
The old individualist economy has been largely destroyed by the State Socialism introduced for war purposes: the nation, taking over individual enterprise, became trader and manufacturer in increasing degree. The economic clauses of the Treaty, if enforced, must prolong this tendency, rendering a large measure of such Socialism permanent.
The change may be desirable. But if co-operation must in future be less as between individuals for private advantage, and much more as between nations, governments acting in an economic capacity, the political emotions of nationalisation will play a much larger role in the economic processes of Europe. If to Nationalist hostilities as we have known them in the past is to be added the commercial rivalry of nations now converted into traders and capitalists, we are likely to have not a less but a more quarrelsome world, unless the fact of interdependence is much more vividly realised than in the past.
Chapter III (pp. 81-111) — Nationality, Economics, and the Assertion of Right
The change noted in the preceding chapter raises a profound question of Right—Have we the right to use our power to deny to others the means of life? By our political power we can create a Europe which, while not assuring advantage to the victor, deprives the vanquished of means of existence. The loss of both ore and coal by the Central Powers might well make it impossible for their future populations to find food. What are they to do? Starve? To disclaim responsibility is to claim that we are entitled to use our power to deny them life.
This ‘right’ to starve foreigners can only be invoked by invoking the conception of nationalism—‘Our nation first.’ But the policy of placing life itself upon a foundation of preponderant force, instead of mutually advantageous co-operation, compels statesmen perpetually to betray the principle of nationality; not only directly, (as in the case of the annexation of territory, economically necessary, but containing peoples of alien nationality,) but indirectly; for the resistance which our policy (of denying means of subsistence to others) provokes, makes preponderance of power the condition of survival. All else must give way to that need.
Might cannot be pledged to Right in these conditions. If our power is pledged to Allies for the purpose of the Balance (which means, in fact, preponderance), it cannot be used against them to enforce respect for (say) nationality. To turn against Allies would break the Balance. To maintain the Balance of Power we are compelled to disregard the moral merits of an Ally’s policy (as in the case of the promise to the Czar’s government not to demand the independence of Poland). The maintenance of a Balance (i.e. preponderance) is incompatible with the maintenance of Right. There is a conflict of obligation.
Chapter IV (pp. 112-141) — Military Predominance — And Insecurity
The moral questions raised in the preceding chapter have a direct bearing on the effectiveness of military power based on the National unit, or a group of National units, such as an Alliance. Military preponderance of the smaller Western National units over large and potentially powerful groups, like the German or the Russian, must necessitate stable and prolonged co-operation. But, as the present condition of the Alliance which fought the War shows, the rivalries inseparable from the fears and resentments of ‘instinctive’ nationalism, make that prolonged co-operation impossible. The qualities of Nationalism which stand in the way of Internationalism stand also in the way of stable alliances (which are a form of Internationalism) and make them extremely unstable foundations of power.
The difficulties encountered by the Allies in taking combined action in Russia show that to this fundamental instability due to the moral nature of Nationalism, must be added, as causes of military paralysis, the economic disruption which reduces the available material resources, and the social unrest (largely the result of the economic difficulties) which undermines the cohesion even of the national unit.
These forces render military predominance based on the temporary co-operation of units still preserving the Nationalist outlook extremely precarious and unreliable.
Chapter V (pp. 142-168) — Patriotism and Power in War and Peace: The Social Outcome
The greatest and most obvious present need of Europe, for the salvation of its civilisation, is unity and co-operation. Yet the predominant forces of its politics push to conflict and disunity. If it is the calculating selfishness of ‘realist’ statesmen that thus produces impoverishment and bankruptcy, the calculation would seem to be defective. The Balkanisation of Europe obviously springs, however, from sources belonging to our patriotisms, which are mainly uncalculating and instinctive, ‘mystic’ impulses and passions. Can we safely give these instinctive pugnacities full play?
One side of patriotism—gregariousness, ‘herd instinct’—has a socially protective origin, and is probably in some form indispensable. But coupled with uncontrolled pugnacity, tribal gregariousness grows into violent partisanship as against other groups, and greatly strengthens the instinct to coercion, the desire to impose our power.
In war-time, pugnacity, partisanship, coerciveness can find full satisfaction in the fight against the enemy. But when the war is over, these instincts, which have become so highly developed, still seek satisfaction. They may find it in two ways: in conflict between Allies, or in strife between groups within the nation.
We may here find an explanation of what seems otherwise a moral enigma: that just after a war, universally lauded as a means of national unity, ‘bringing all classes together,’ the country is distraught by bitter social chaos, amounting to revolutionary menace; and that after the war which was to wipe out at last all the old differences which divided the Allies, their relations are worse than before the War (as in the case of Britain and America and Britain and France).
Why should the fashionable lady, capable of sincere self-sacrifice (scrubbing hospital floors and tending canteens) for her countrymen when they are soldiers, become completely indifferent to the same countrymen when they have returned to civil life (often dangerous and hard, as in mining and fishing)? In the latter case there is no common enmity uniting duchess and miner.
Another enigma may be solved in the same way: why military terrorism, unprovoked war, secret diplomacy, autocratic tyranny, violation of nationality, which genuinely appal us when committed by the enemy, leave us unmoved when political necessity’ provokes very similar conduct on our part; why the ideals for which we went to war become matters of indifference to us when we have achieved victory. Gregariousness, which has become intense partisanship, makes right that which our side does or desires; wrong that which the other side does.
This is fatal, not merely to justice, but to sincerity, to intellectual rectitude, to the capacity to see the truth objectively. It explains why we can, at the end of a war, excuse or espouse the very policies which the war was waged to make impossible.
Chapter VI (pp. 169-198) — The Alternative Risks of Status and Contract
Instinct, being co-terminous with all animal life, is a motive of conduct immeasurably older and more deeply rooted than reasoning based on experience. So long as the instinctive, ‘natural’ action succeeds, or appears to succeed in its object, we do not trouble to examine the results of instinct or to reason. Only failure causes us to do that.
We have seen that the pugnacities, gregariousness, group partisanship embodied in patriotism, give a strong emotional push to domination, the assertion of our power over others as a means of settling our relations with them. Physical coercion marks all the early methods in politics (as in autocracy and feudalism), in economics (as in slavery), and even in the relations of the sexes.
But we try other methods (and manage to restrain our impulse sufficiently) when we really discover that force won’t work. When we find we cannot coerce a man but still need his service, we offer him inducements, bargain with him, enter a contract. This is the result of realising that we really need him, and cannot compel him. That is the history of the development from status to contract.
Stable international co-operation cannot come in any other way. Not until we realise the failure of national coercive power for indispensable ends (like the food of our people) shall we cease to idealise power and to put our intensest political emotions, like those of patriotism, behind it.
The alternative to preponderance is partnership of power. Both may imply the employment of force (as in policing), but the latter makes force the instrument of a conscious social purpose, offering to the rival that challenges the force (as in the case of the individual criminal within the nation) the same rights as those claimed by the users of force. Force as employed by competitive nationalism does not do this. It says ‘You or me,’ not ‘You and me.’ The method of social co-operation may fail temporarily; but it has the perpetual opportunity of success. It succeeds the moment that the two parties both accept it. But the other method is bound to fail; the two parties cannot both accept it. Both cannot be masters. Both can be partners.
The failure of preponderant power on a nationalist basis for indispensable ends would be self-evident but for the push of the instincts which warp our judgment.
Yet faith in the social method is the condition of its success. It is a choice of risks. We distrust and arm. Others, then, are entitled also to distrust; their arming is our justification for distrusting them. The policy of suspicion justifies itself. To allay suspicion we must accept the risk of trust. That, too, will justify itself.
Man’s future depends on making the better choice, for either the distrust or the faith will justify itself. His judgment will not be fit to make that choice if it is warped by the passions of pugnacity and hate that we have cultivated as part of the apparatus of war.
Chapter VII (pp. 199-251) — The Spiritual Roots of the Settlement
If our instinctive pugnacities and hates are uncontrollable, and they dictate conduct, no more is to be said. We are the helpless victims of outside forces, and may as well surrender. But many who urge this most insistently in the case of our patriotic pugnacities obviously do not believe it: their demands for the suppression of ‘defeatist’ propaganda during the War, their support of war-time propaganda for the maintenance of morale, their present fears of the ‘deadly infection’ of Bolshevist ideas, indicate, on the contrary, a very real belief that feelings can be subject to an extremely rapid modification or redirection. In human society mere instinct has always been modified or directed in some measure by taboos, traditions, conventions, constituting a social discipline. The character of that discipline is largely determined by some sense of social need, developed as the result of the suggestion of transmitted ideas, discussions, intellectual ferment.
The feeling which made the Treaty inevitable was the result of a partly unconscious but also partly conscious propaganda of war half-truths, built up on a sub-structure of deeply rooted nationalist conceptions. The systematic exploitation of German atrocities, and the systematic suppression of similar Allied offences, the systematic suppression of every good deed done by our enemy, constituted a monstrous half-truth. It had the effect of fortifying the conception of the enemy people as a single person; its complete collective responsibility. Any one of them—child, woman, invalid—could properly be punished (by famine, say) for any other’s guilt. Peace became a problem of repressing or destroying this entirely bad person by a combination of nations entirely good.
This falsified the nature of the problem, gave free rein to natural and instinctive retaliations, obscured the simplest human realities, and rendered possible ferocious cruelty on the part of the Allies. There would have been in any case a strong tendency to ignore even the facts which in Allied interest should have been considered. In the best circumstances it would have been extremely difficult to put through a Wilsonian (type 1918) policy, involving restraint of the sacred egoisms, the impulsive retaliations, the desire for dominion inherent in ‘intense’ nationalisms. The efficiency of the machinery by which the Governments for the purpose of war formed the mind of the nation, made it out of the question.
If ever the passions which gather around the patriotisms disrupting and Balkanising Europe are to be disciplined or directed by a better social tradition, we must face without pretence or self-deception the results which show the real nature of the older political moralities. We must tell truths that disturb strong prejudices.
THE FRUITS OF VICTORY