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 Cornell University Library 
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 Maior social problems 
 
 olin 
 
 3 1924 030 223 295 
 
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 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924030223295 
 
MAJOR SOQAL PROBLEMS 
 
 BY 
 RUDOLPH M. BINDER, Ph. D. 
 
 PROFESSOR OF SOaOLOGY IN NEW YORK UNIVERSITY 
 
 WHAT A MAN SAYS, IS IMPORTANT; 
 WHAT HE DOES, IS CHARACTERISTIC; 
 WHAT HE IS, IS VITAL 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 PRENTICE-HALL, Inc. 
 
 1920 
 
Uxori filiisque 
 
MAJOR SOCIAL PROBLEMS 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 THE OLD AND THE NEW CIVILIZATION 
 
 Difference between civilization and savagery. — The 
 difference between civilization and savagery consists es- 
 sentially in one thing: civilized man does not entrust 
 the keeping of his soul to anybody, while the savage 
 hardly calls it his own. The modern man — for tnis term 
 may be taken as the equivalent of civilization — knows 
 that whatever befalls him is the result of human action, 
 either his own or that of his fellow-men. He rigidly 
 applies the law of cause and effect, and holds himself 
 responsible for the results of his actions. He knows 
 that apart from occasional catastrophes of nature, such 
 as earthquakes and the eruption of volcanos, the shaping 
 of his present and future lot rests with him. Not even 
 floods are exempted from this accountability, for he 
 knows that human beings somewhere have, either through 
 greed or folly wasted the resources of nature in the form 
 of forests, and other men, thousands of miles away, may- 
 be, have to suffer. He holds men of the present or past 
 generations responsible, not ghosts or spirits. Not so 
 the savage. Whatever befalls him, he attributes to out- 
 side agencies, be they gods or demons. He holds himself 
 free alike from praise and blame. He is merely the 
 puppet whom the invisible powers use for their own 
 amusement and gratification. He cannot take a single 
 step without incurring either their approval or disap- 
 proval. He is not a free being, but a slave to his own 
 
 1 
 
2 CHAPTER I 
 
 superstitions. A few illustrations from the lives of the 
 Greeks and Hebrews, the most enlightened people of 
 antiquity, will bring home this difference between civil- 
 ized and uncivilized man. 
 
 The attitude of the Greeks. — There is a story among 
 the ancient Greeks to the effect that Polycrates of 
 Samos was an exceedingly successful king. While a 
 Greek sage was visiting him several messengers arrived 
 with good news. The first reported a victory of the 
 king's army over his bitterest enemy ; the second brought 
 news that his merchant fleet, which was supposed to have 
 been wrecked in a storm, had safely reached a friendly 
 harbor; the third held aloft a precious ring which the 
 king had lost, but which had been found by a fisherman 
 in the belly of a fish. The king rejoiced over his good 
 fortune, but the sage fled terror-stricken since the jeal- 
 ous gods could permit such good fortune only because 
 they wished to visit Polycrates with more dire punish- 
 ment. This story was evidently invented for the purpose 
 of showing the helplessness of men in the hands of the 
 gods. 
 
 The most famous Greek book, the Iliad, opens with 
 the plague which Apollo sends to the Greeks, because 
 they had offended his priest by capturing his daughter; 
 and the Trojans are granted a temporary victory because 
 Agamemnon, to console himself for the loss of the priest's 
 daughter, takes away the mistress of Achilles who is 
 aided and abetted by the goddess Thetis. The whole 
 story and its companion, the Odyssey, depict the quarrels 
 and bickerings of the gods rather than those of men, 
 since the latter are only the toys of the former. If one 
 god favored a hero, another would be sure to hate him. 
 The noble Odysseus was thus kept wandering over seas 
 
THE OLD AND THE NEW CIVILIZATION 3 
 
 and lands for ten years until the hostile gods relented 
 because he had suffered enough to satisfy them. 
 
 The tragedies of Sophocles and Aeschylus indicate a 
 similar dependence on the gods, although written at a 
 time when Greek thought had matured and shortly before 
 philosophy reached its highest expression among this 
 gifted people. For what is classical tragedy? It is the 
 working of Fate and of the gods against which men strive 
 in vain ; they may have offended unwittingly by omission 
 or commission, but they must suffer the full penalty just 
 the same. And so we see one hero after another pass- 
 ing before our eyes, never knowing why they suffer 
 except that Fate wills it. 
 
 It is this impossibility to understand why things happen 
 which accounts for the rather pronounced gloom in Greek 
 poetry — a gloom only occasionally dispelled in lyrics. 
 And the inference lies near that this poetry was a reflex 
 of Greek thought and attitude toward life. If your 
 whole life is in the keeping of another whose thoughts 
 you do not know, and if from one moment to another 
 some calamity may befall you, how can you be cheerful 
 and optimistic? 
 
 The attitude of the Hebrew^s. — Hebrew thought re- 
 flects the same lack of freedom and cheerfulness. It 
 is Jehovah — a benevolent god — who controls Hebrew life 
 from the first chapter in Genesis to the last in Malachi. 
 An overwhelming, omnipotent god is he who rules with 
 a rod of iron and quickly destroys those who disobey 
 him. Even the mighty Cyrus, king of the Persians, 
 is but a tool in his hands whom he uses for his own pur- 
 poses — "though thou hast not known me" — as a potter 
 uses clay. Victory belongs to him, and he grants it to 
 his people if they obey and submit. In order to make 
 
4 CHAPTER I 
 
 this fact perfectly plain, Gideon is bidden to dismiss 
 twenty-two thousand men — "lest Israel vaunt themselves 
 against me, saying : Mine own hand has saved me" ; but 
 the ten thousand remaining are still too many, and so 
 Gideon is required to make a selection of three hundred 
 men. Into the hands of this small company the hosts 
 of Midianites are delivered by Jehovah. 
 
 Everything is in the hands of Jehovah — crops, health, 
 long life, birth and death. If a good thing befell the 
 people, the credit belonged to him ; if misfortune came, 
 they had sinned by disobedience and idolatry. The 
 Hebrew could not move without being guided by his 
 god, who even "giveth his beloved sleep." This attitude 
 has survived in the Puritans to this day, and the long 
 list of evils mentioned in church litanies with the petition : 
 "Good Lord, deliver us," furnishes ample testimony that 
 the same attitude still survives elsewhere. 
 
 Demand for abject submission. — It goes without say- 
 ing that no thought of freedom, based on individual 
 responsibility, could arise under these conditions. The 
 two men who asserted themselves were effectively crushed 
 — Prometheus by Zeus and Jacob by Jehovah. The Greek 
 hero stole fire from heaven to help men, against the 
 wisljes of his overlord. For this offense he was con- 
 demned to be chained to a rock in the Caucasian moun- 
 tains where an eagle daily ate of his liver. To make the 
 punishment more deterrent to would-be rebels against 
 the will of Zeus, the wound was healed at night so that 
 the agony might be perpetual. Only the intervention of 
 the demi-god Hercules prevented the execution of this 
 plan to its logical limit. 
 
 The story of Jacob is even more interesting from the 
 point of view which concerns us. He was intended to 
 
THE OLD AND THE NEW CIVILIZATION 5 
 
 be the heir of Jehovah's promise, and he never runs 
 counter to that decree. He buys the birthright for a 
 mess of pottage from Esau ; later he manages by various 
 manipulations to wax rich in the service of his uncle 
 Laban, although his wages were changed ten times; he 
 was always able to outwit his employer by meeting wile 
 with wile. His only offense from the point of view of 
 the biblical narrative is that he tries to help Jehovah in 
 securing the blessings already assured to him by the 
 god. This is self-assertion and the acceptance of respon- 
 sibility. Such a spirit could not be permitted among Je- 
 hovah's chosen people who must only obey, and wait for 
 whatever the ruler of men will send them. Jacob must 
 be humbled into abject submission. 
 
 This is brought about on the border of the Promised 
 Land which Jacob is not permitted to enter until he has 
 acknowledged Jehovah's supremacy unequivocally. This 
 surrender is depicted in the struggle with a man during 
 the night before crossing the river separating his native 
 land from a foreign country. Needless to say he is 
 completely worsted in this contest. As permanent signs 
 of his complete submission to Jehovah, Jacob's name is 
 changed to Israel — fighter for God — and he is lamed. 
 (Genesis, XXXII, 24-32). These stories seem to have 
 but little meaning on the surface; but the moment one 
 penetrates deeper into the thought of the writer, a well 
 defined philosophy is discovered. To both Greeks and 
 Jews utter submission to the will of the gods was the 
 supreme test of righteousness; the highest criterion of 
 acceptability was blind and unquestioning obedience to 
 the law as laid down. Any desire to know the reason 
 why, any attempt to pilot one's own fate, any endeavor 
 to assume personal responsibilty — ^was crushed at once 
 
6 CHAPTER I 
 
 with all the means at the command of a presumably 
 omnipotent but certainly arbitrary deity. 
 
 The effect on the by-standers may easily be imagined. 
 Any one in affliction was looked upon as "stricken, smit- 
 ten of God," and interference was correspondingly risky. 
 Ancient peoples have been accused of hard-heartedness, 
 because they did not relieve sufferers. How could they, 
 if that suffering was caused directly by a deity? Fear 
 to interfere with the will of a god stifled any natural 
 sympathy and dried up the wells of pity. 
 
 No freedom for man. — The lesson is not far to 
 seek. With an attitude of complete dependence on out- 
 side agencies, even if these were benevolent, there was 
 but slight possibility of developing a true man — free, 
 independent, self-reliant, conscious of his dignity, assum- 
 ing responsibility, taking the blame for his failure, and 
 modestly rejoicing in his success. The sole object of 
 society is, however, to develop just that kind of a man. 
 Wherever this aim is not kept in constant view, we have 
 to register a failure. Society does not exist primarily 
 to make us richer, to save us exertion, or to give us 
 pleasure; but to develop a man who is willing to stand 
 four-square on his own feet, who knows that he is ac- 
 countable for his actions and rejoices in that responsi- 
 bility. The power of self-determination is the quality 
 which a true man values more highly than anything 
 else. It is this that distinguishes him from a machine 
 or a log of wood in a river. The former of these merely 
 carries out the will of another, the latter is a toy of 
 the inert forces of nature; both are dominated by their 
 environment, while man dominates his. Even the animal 
 is but little able to control its surroundings, and the 
 wholesale disappearance of species is witness to this 
 statement. 
 
THE OLD AND THE NEW CIVILIZATION 7 
 
 Difference between Greeks and Romans. — Without 
 freedom there can be but little progress. Some progress 
 there must be, or death will be the sure penalty. Hun- 
 dreds, if not thousands, of tribes have paid for their de- 
 pendence on outside agencies as the controllers of their 
 fate by being ruthlessly exterminated by men who were 
 willing to take responsibility. The latter may not have 
 been the superiors of those they destroyed. The Romans 
 were certainly not more gifted than the Greeks, and yet 
 Greece became a mere small province of Rome. Wherein 
 was the Roman superior? Two features of his religion 
 will, perhaps, explain the fact. 
 
 The Greek gods lived on Mount Olympus, feeding on 
 nectar and ambrosia. They made only periodic visits to 
 this earth, usually when bent on some errand of mischief ; 
 they were idlers and may irreverently be called gentle- 
 manly loafers. They gave gifts to men when it pleased 
 their high and mighty fancies ; generally they quarrelled 
 among themselves to dispel their ennui. They were, on 
 the whole, of small calibre, and carried their dissensions 
 among their worshippers. But their interference with 
 human affairs resulted in turning the attention of men 
 away from practical life. Being always dependent on 
 the good pleasure of their gods, the Greeks were unable 
 to take their fate into their own hands and manage it 
 according to their great gifts. The unification of the 
 Greek states into one commanding empire was impossible ; 
 they fell, one by one, an easy prey to different victors. 
 
 Compare this with the Roman god Janus with his two 
 faces turning east and west. He was decidedly a god 
 of this world, concerning himself with peace and war, 
 with life, agriculture, gateways, openings ; with all kinds 
 of undertakings from beginning to end. As Longfellow 
 characterizes him: 
 
8 CHAPTER I 
 
 Janus am I; oldest of Potentates; 
 
 Forward I look, and backward, and below ; 
 
 I count, as god of avenues and gates, 
 
 The years that through my portals come and go. 
 
 He alone retained his identity after the other gods had 
 lost their character through the influence of Greek, Egyp- 
 tian and Oriental religions, to the very last — showing a 
 continuity in Roman thought which is very striking. 
 Whether his name is a corruption of Jupiter (Dyaus- 
 pater), or whether it is derived from the Etruscan word 
 ani (door) matters little for the fact of his survival, since 
 in either case the peculiar power of the Roman mind 
 to turn everything to practical account, is evident. 
 
 The worship of such a god would naturally produce a 
 priesthood which concerned itself primarily with every- 
 day life. The pontifices outranked all other priests in im- 
 portance, and the pontifex tnaximus, their head, had su- 
 preme jurisdiction over all priests of whatever name. 
 They haa charge of public and private worship, marriage 
 and burial rites, but principally of the regulation of the 
 calendar and of the keeping of the consular and magis- 
 terial annals. They were thus the priests of the state, 
 while the rex sacronim merely offered sacrifices, and the 
 flamines served particular gods, like most of the Greek 
 priests. 
 
 Differences in divination. — It is natural that if the 
 outcome of an undertaking depends not on your skill 
 and ability but on a deity, you want to find out what 
 that being may do about it. Hence prognostication has 
 always formed an important part of ancient religions. 
 Here we find another fundamental difference between 
 the Greek and the Roman attitude in religion. At Delphi 
 
THE OLD AND THE NEW CIVILIZATION 9 
 
 and Dodonna, the priestess sat on her tripod over a 
 chasm from which noxious gases burst forth, and when 
 she was half choked with the fumes, she — as any one 
 else would do under the circumstances — sputtered out 
 various inarticulate sounds which the by-standers or the 
 priests were at liberty to interpret as they chose, each 
 one doing his best to gain favorable signs for himself. 
 The ambiguity of the oracles was proverbial; for instance, 
 "if Croesus wages war upon Cyrus, a great empire will 
 perish !" Most certainly ; that is what Croesus desired. 
 But whose empire? His or that of Cyrus? The priest- 
 ess was mute, and the treasures of Lydia had been be- 
 stowed upon the temple in vain. As it turned out Cyrus 
 was victorious, because instead of spending his time in a 
 long journey to Delphi, he had drilled his troops and 
 marshalled all his resources ; for then as now the man 
 with the most accurate prevision is likely to succeed. 
 The Romans never had an oracle. They clearly recog- 
 nized the commonplace fact that in all undertakings, 
 whether religious or secular, communal or individual, the 
 weather plays an important role. As a practical people 
 they consequently paid much attention to the weather. 
 A special order of priesthood, the augurs, was established, 
 and was held in high esteem. These priests observed 
 the sky, the flight and cries of birds, the behavior of 
 sacred fowl, and other omens, and decided after due de- 
 liberation, whether the undertaking was likely to have 
 a favorable issue or not. In this case there was a study 
 of actual conditions ; in the former, the inarticulate ejacu- 
 lations of a half-choked and usually half-starved priestess. 
 
 Religion dominated man. — The question may be 
 asked here: What has all this talk about religion to 
 do with civilization and society? The answer lies in the 
 
10 CHAPTER I 
 
 fact that in the past, religion dominated the whole atti- 
 tude of man. The reasons for this cannot be discussed 
 here, but the fact is certain. We have found the re- 
 ligious attitude to have been one of resignation, depend- 
 ence, submission to the will of the gods. We have seen 
 that this attitude was enforced upon rebels as a deterrent 
 upon would-be rebels, even among the most enlightened 
 people of antiquity. There was to be no initiative on 
 the part of man, no striving to improve his lot, but mute 
 surrender lest the gods forfeit their glory. He was to 
 accept gratefully whatever blessings they might choose 
 to bestow, and not murmur even when they chose to 
 smite him. 
 
 Progress discouraged. — How could men progress 
 under these conditions? How could they dare and ven- 
 ture ? For progress is a venture into the unknown. Only 
 strong and self-reliant men will take the risk. Every one 
 knows what evils and benefits contemporary conditions 
 provide; man tries to diminish the force of the former 
 and increase that of the latter. The future is a blank 
 and a lottery, and the coward will shrink from the risk. 
 He takes a telescopic view of the future — blessings may 
 be large, but they are far away. Those of the present 
 may be smaller, but he can hug them tightly. It takes 
 a man of courage to exchange good things for better 
 prospects; and it requires a resourceful man to turn 
 better prospects into good things. 
 
 The men of the past were, generally speaking, neither 
 courageous or resourceful. The constant hammering of 
 the gods on human material reduced every man to the 
 condition of a coward. The fear of God was, literally 
 speaking, the beginning of wisdom, for it was the only 
 way to safety. The fight of the Titans against the gods 
 
THE OLD AND THE NEW CIVILIZATION 11 
 
 taught every Greek the lesson of humility, and the He- 
 brew had his object lesson in Saul, who was rejected 
 by Jehovah because he spared Agag, the king of the 
 Amalekites, and would not "utterly destroy the people." 
 As it was with courage, so with resourcefulness. How 
 could a man develop any initiative when the one con- 
 stant demand was for obedience? Even when the de- 
 mands were legitimate and beneficial to man, they tended 
 to keep him in the leading strings of another. He was 
 always treated as a child who must be coddled, and 
 naturally enough he had no chance to grow up. The 
 ideal put before him was a golden age in the past when 
 his ancestors had not yet sinned by disobedience. He 
 might have lived in ease and comfort, if only he had not 
 disobeyed and eaten of the tree of knowledge of good 
 and evil. Submission or rejection, surrender or destruc- 
 tion, were the alternatives put before man. Who can 
 blame him for his docility? Truly, the fear of God 
 was the beginning of wisdom! 
 
 We have spoken of the Greeks and Hebrews not be- 
 cause they were sinners above others in this respect, 
 but because they were the least guilty of all others. If 
 the most enlightened nations of antiquity were held in 
 the chains of a false religion and had their courage bro- 
 ken and their initiative stifled, anyone can easily imagine 
 what happened among the peoples who lived in darkness. 
 The Moloch of the Phoenicians and Carthaginians, the 
 Juggernaut of the Hindoos, and other horrors of pagan- 
 ism are familiar examples. From every point of view 
 man was hemmed in, his will broken, and his intellect 
 stunted until his crass superstition engendered a terror 
 which often ended in self-immolation or destruction. 
 
 Progress made possible. — ^And yet — man has pro- 
 
12 CHAPTER I 
 
 gressed ; slowly at first, then more rapidly. There were 
 three principal reasons for this: (1) Man found rifts 
 in the steel armor of the gods; (2) Religion became more 
 humane and relaxed its grip on man; (3) Man learned 
 to do things for himself. 
 
 (1) No matter how threatening an aspect the laws 
 of the gods might have and what dire punishment they 
 might bring upon a few transgressors, men found a rift 
 in their steel armor. According to the theory that the 
 deities rule everything, the righteous man or the most 
 obedient ought to be the most successful; for while the 
 sins of the fathers were to be visited upon the children 
 unto the thii'd and fourth generation, mercy was to be 
 shown and blessings extended "unto thousands of them 
 that love me and keep my commandments." Elihu argues 
 against Job in this fashion: "He (Jehovah) withdraweth 
 not his eyes from the righteous ; but with kings are they 
 on the throne; yea, he doth establish them forever, and 
 they are exalted." And the Psalmist sends forth his 
 exhortations to righteousness on the basis oi its bringing 
 prosperity. 
 
 This philosophy is, however, not true to life. And 
 even the Psalmist is compelled to admit this as soon as 
 he turns his eyes away from "the hills from whence 
 cometh my help" to the life that is before him. Then 
 he sees, "the prosperity of the wicked," and is amazed 
 that "their eyes stand out with fatness," and "they have 
 more than heart could wish." (Psalm LXXIII). And 
 the longer he looks the more surprised he becomes, and 
 finally his outraged sense of justice finds vent in the 
 question: "Lord, how long shall the wicked, how long 
 shall the wicked triumph?" (Psalm XCIV). The same 
 observation must have been made by thousands of others 
 
THE OLD AND THE NEW CIVILIZATION 13 
 
 in different lands and times. The theory did not tally 
 with the facts. Says Professor Huxley: "If there is a 
 generalization from the facts of human life which has 
 the assent of thoughtful men in every age and country, 
 it is that the violator of ethical rules constantly escapes 
 the punishment which he deserves ; that the wicked flour- 
 ish like a green bay tree, while the righteous begs his 
 bread."^ 
 
 The other rift in the steel armor was revealed by man's 
 observation of the contradictions in the demands of the 
 gods. Baal required one thing, Jehovah another; Zeus 
 persecuted a man whom Poseidon would protect; the 
 gods quarrelled and fought among themselves, and the 
 Twentieth Song of the Iliad is devoted to the battle of 
 the gods, some fighting with the Greeks, others with 
 the Trojans. If the gods were not of one mind, it is 
 small wonder that men became puzzled and began to ask 
 questions. Then something was bound to happen. 
 
 There were other difficulties which confronted the be- 
 liever in the gods as the rulers of every human action 
 and as the rulers over man. Gradually men came to 
 recognize that there was a natural law which controlled 
 human events and even the gods. The theory of Fate 
 among the Greeks, and of the Goetterdammerung among 
 the Teutons expresses the passing of the gods. Men 
 had only the law of nature to fall back on. And as 
 they observed the regularity in the returns of the sea- 
 sons, of the close connection between natural and human 
 events, the law of cause and effect gradually dawned 
 on their minds, and began to take shape in the theory 
 that their souls were, after all, in their own keeping and 
 not in that of another. Man could make or mar his 
 
 1 Evolution and Ethics, p. 58. Appleton & Company, New York, 1899. 
 
14 CHAPTER I 
 
 fortune. Group after group of happenings was seen to 
 lie in the mesh of law and not in the palm of caprice. 
 Scepticism in the old forms of religion created a new 
 form of it, which became another means to progress. 
 
 (2) Religion became more human and relaxed its 
 grip on man in some respects. The fatherhood of God, 
 and its complement, the brotherhood of man, were dis- 
 covered. This put a new phase on human affairs. One 
 God, one human family! The exploitation of one tribe 
 by another was no longer legitimate because all men were 
 sons of the same Father. One must live in peace with 
 his neighbors, and treat them as one would be treated 
 by them. This expansion of social consciousness made 
 possible the welding together, during the last thousand 
 years, of numerous tribes of similar blood and speech 
 into nations. But the essential difference between tribal 
 and national organizations is the warlike character of the 
 former and the peaceful character of the latter. This 
 may seem a strange statement to those who do not know 
 history and the slow development of society. It is never- 
 theless true. Wars are much less frequent now in civil- 
 ized countries than they were a thousand years ago and 
 than they are to-day among the tribes of Africa. Na- 
 tions strive to pursue primarily industry and commerce. 
 
 This means a relaxing of the grip of religion on man 
 from the point of interference with his daily affairs. 
 The ancient Hebrew might make a distinction in com- 
 mercial transactions between Jew and Gentile, the Greek 
 between Greek and Barbarian, because they served dif- 
 ferent gods and because this fact intruded itself into their 
 daily affairs. Now that we believe in one God, the one 
 question which arises concerns itself with the equality 
 and desirability of the goods. Does this man produce 
 
THE OLD AND THE NEW CIVILIZATION IS 
 
 what / want? Can he be trusted? We may be of dif- 
 ferent opinion about divine things, but we both recog- 
 nize in a general way a Divine Being and the interde- 
 pendence of men on each other. Tolerance in religion, 
 integrity in business, — is the slogan of the modern man 
 of affairs. 
 
 (3) In proportion as man learned to depend less on 
 the gods, he acquired the ability to do things, and that 
 gave him much needed confidence. He knows now that 
 his success depends on his own efforts; for, according 
 to the conception of monotheism, all men are treated alike 
 by God, and there can be no more favoritism of the 
 stronger god for his own people. Everyone must work, 
 and each has the privilege of enjoying divine favor for 
 good harvests to the extent of his efficiency, and no more. 
 At first sight it might appear as if the conception of one 
 omnipotent God would strengthen the idea of dependence. 
 When we read that we should take no thought for our 
 lives, what we should eat or drink, nor what we should 
 put on; and when it is pointed out to us that the fowls 
 of the air are taken care of and the lilies of the field 
 are better clothed than Solomon in all his glory, although 
 neither of these creatures work, and when the whole 
 argument ends with the significant question, "Are you 
 not much more than they?" one may easily see how 
 that teaching affected the multitude of slaves whose lives 
 had been one continuous drudgery under hard taskmas- 
 ters. Unsophisticated as they were, many of them must 
 have expected that they would be looked after when 
 embracing Christianity ; even freemen might be pardoned 
 for entertaining such a hope. The whole previous ten- 
 dency has fostered such an idea of dependence. That such 
 practical applications were actually made by some new 
 
16 CHAPTER I 
 
 converts may be inferred from the case of supposed 
 communism in the church at Jerusalem and from what 
 St. Paul writes to the Thessalonians in the Second 
 Epistle. The report in the second chapter of the Acts 
 of the Apostles about "having all things in common" is 
 very brief and inconclusive, and is supplemented in the 
 sixth chapter with an account of how provision was made 
 for the poor by the appointment of seven men as almoners. 
 Evidently some men had too literally applied the teach- 
 ings of Jesus. The passage in the Epistle to the Thes- 
 salonians is still more striking. The apostle warns against 
 "disorderly" brethren. But these gentlemen were evi- 
 dently of the type that believed in being provided for, 
 since the only charge against them is that they would 
 not work. In criticism of such an attitude, St. Paul 
 refers to the fact that he himself worked for his living, 
 and adds the sharp rebuke : "If any would not work, 
 neither should he eat." The necessity of work was 
 brought home even to a believer in an almighty and be- 
 nevolent Father. 
 
 Man, then, had to work, even under the new dispen- 
 sation. And as he worked he discovered the wonderful 
 works of nature and her willingness to grant harvests 
 in return for proper exertion. As he mastered one field 
 after another of her resources, his confidence increased 
 from one generation to another. He found that his ef- 
 forts alone could procure more leisure and greater abun- 
 dance for him, that he alone could steer his ship, and that, 
 after all, his soul was. in his own keeping. The better 
 this lesson was learned, the more rapid his progress 
 became. 
 
 The process is not by any means complete. At first 
 the strong and capable rushed in and availed themselves 
 
THE OLD AND THE NEW CIVILIZATION 17. 
 
 of all the new forces set free by this change in the 
 attitude of mankind. The victory was to be efficient, and 
 others suffered. The forces set free were not used for 
 the welfare of all ; new problems arose owing to the too 
 swift movement along certain lines. The principal ef- 
 forts were made in production with unparalleled success ; 
 the process of distribution was neglected, to the harm 
 of society. 
 
 Causes of unrest among modern men. — If the aim 
 of society is the development of a free, self-reliant man, 
 full of initiative and enterprise, enjoying his work and 
 his pleasures, and if we find that the new industrial de- 
 velopment has enabled only a few individuals to attain 
 this goal, while the millions are still living under condi- 
 tions which make full and complete living impossible — 
 it must be confessed that we have not progressed very 
 far. We have taken from the poor the comfort of re- 
 ligion, which bade them be satisfied and wait for a 
 proper recompense in the hereafter; but we have failed 
 to substitute something else which is better. Hence a 
 restlessness and unhappiness pervades the modern world 
 the like of which antiquity never knew. In the ancient 
 world people did not know what they could do; now 
 they know, but they see their efforts thwarted owing to 
 social mismanagement ; then they were comparatively con- 
 tented and satisfied, because they were ignorant of their 
 power; now they are unhappy because they use their 
 energies to the utmost but are despoiled of their efforts. 
 The dead hand of the past still holds them in the clutches 
 of antiquated institutions whose inertia prevents the re- 
 modelling of life according to the present day con- 
 ceptions. 
 
 It is our knowledge which is the cause of our misery. 
 
18 CHAPTER I 
 
 We have correct theory but are unable to apply it- 
 Why? Because all our institutions have grown out of 
 conditions which have been superseded. They continue 
 to exist, however, because the lesson of our independence 
 has not been learned by all. While theoretically we boast 
 of it, we turn cowards when the question of asserting 
 it is presented. In our mechanical appliances we proceed 
 according to the strictly modern notions of self-reliance 
 and responsibility; in politics, in ethics, in the family, 
 and in the other infinitely more important matters of life, 
 we cling to the codes of the past. Hence our misery! 
 We see what we have done in one direction and have a 
 vision of the promised land of complete living, yet hesi- 
 tate to assert ourselves in every direction. We are of a 
 divided mind, and that always means misery. Full pro- 
 gress can never be attained until we become of one mind 
 and resolutely take our whole fate into our own hands 
 and direct it to the best of our knowledge and belief. 
 That is all we can do, but that much we must do. We 
 may make mistakes, but we shall learn by them. Never 
 again shall we allow things to happen according to the 
 caprice of the gods. We shall shoulder the responsi- 
 bility for our blunders, and rejoice in our success. Our 
 souls are in our own keeping, and we want to keep them 
 there. 
 
 What needs to be done. — If this is to be done we 
 must have a fairly clear conception of our development 
 in the past; we must get a better and stronger type of 
 man by means of eugenics and more satisfactory family 
 arrangements; we must develop all the resources of our 
 energy by developing woman more completely, directing 
 more of our attention to the problems of health, and 
 rearranging our system of education; we must turn re- 
 
THE OLD AND THE NEW CIVILIZATION 19 
 
 ligion into a concrete and definite social force, and make 
 social control depend more and more on self-control; 
 we must finally socialize our industry, purify our politics, 
 and recognize our interdependence with other nations. 
 Only as we look upon our lives as a product of many 
 factors and clearly recognize their reciprocal influence, 
 will it be possible to make progress all along the line. 
 Most of the so-called reformers either ride hobbies or 
 believe in tandem formation of the social factors. The 
 results are not and cannot be satisfactory, because while 
 our energies are taken up with one problem, there may 
 be retrogression in others. We are thus moving in a 
 zigzag line, but not forward as a whole. Society must 
 be viewed in its entirety with its numerous factors if we 
 are to get an idea and ideal of its progress. Man must 
 be liberated in every respect if his soul is to be his own 
 and if he is to direct his destiny intelligently and for the 
 welfare of all. For society and the individual cannot 
 be separated except in academic discussions. In actual 
 life man is born into a definite social environment which 
 influences him and which he may influence. In pro- 
 portion as he recognizes his own instrumentality as a 
 social agent and exercises that influence with a large 
 vision, shall we have a consistently progressive society 
 in which self-reliant, courageous, and resourceful men 
 will develop. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 SOCIAL DEVELOPMENT 
 
 The active and the passive attitude. — What hap- 
 pened to you?" we ask of a friend who looks downcast. 
 
 "How did you manage that?" we ask of another who 
 looks triumphant. 
 
 These questions may seem a trivial introduction to 
 a chapter on social development; yet, they express in a 
 nutshell what has occurred in the past and is still hap- 
 pening daily to thousands of people. 
 
 There are men to whom things merely happen; they 
 are the victims of circumstances, and they fail or prosper 
 according to the conditions under which they live. They 
 always move with the stream, drifting up or down with 
 the tide as in an estuary ; their environment controls them, 
 and they are either its victims or its beneficiaries. But 
 they never take the initiative, and dread independent 
 thought and personal responsibility! as they would a 
 haunted house. 
 
 There are other men who love independence, conflict, 
 and obstacles, because they crave opportunities for match- 
 ing their wit and strength against adverse circumstances. 
 They are not satisfied with conditions as they find them, 
 are never the mere results of environment, but always 
 fight and struggle until they gain the victory. It may 
 not always be their lot to conquer, since they often under- 
 take herculean tasks; nevertheless, they try to manage, 
 change, and improve situations : and if they do fail, 
 they fall fighting with minds unconquered. It is of these 
 
 20 
 
SOCIAL DEVELOPMENT 21 
 
 men that Schiller's words are true: "Man is free, even 
 though he were born in chains." Examples will readily 
 suggest themselves. Aesop, the slave, whose mind could 
 not be subdued, worked out solutions for innumerable 
 problems in his famous fables. There was Epictetus, 
 born a slave, who became a philosopher and whom neither 
 poverty nor banishment from Rome could intimidate 
 from speaking frankly of the sins of his contemporaries. 
 America, perhaps more than any other country, fur- 
 nishes numerous cases of men who have conquered pov- 
 erty, lack of education and other forms of adversity — 
 men bom with a positive nature and an intrepid spirit, 
 who would not submit to their environment but con- 
 quered it. They lacked, perhaps, the opportunities of 
 others, but made their own for the benefit of themselves 
 and society. 
 
 Genetic and telic development. — In these two types 
 of men we have a rough illustration of social evolution. 
 Generally speaking, the past, until very recently, was 
 developing according to circumstances. Men drifted 
 along until something happened that required a new ad- 
 justment. When that was accomplished, they went along 
 according to a new routine until some social or natural 
 catastrophe demanded a new adaptation. Gradually men 
 — at least some men — learned to control circumstances by 
 looking ahead and adapting means to ends. They liber- 
 ated themselves from the thrall of their environment, and 
 recognized themselves as free agents. Modern civiliza- 
 tion is characterized essentially by this craving for liberty, 
 individual responsibility, and a sense of personal dignity. 
 
 Briefly stated, the older development was genetic; it 
 was a gradual change, and a slow growth: the new de- 
 velopment in telic; it is purposeful, rapid, and character- 
 
22 CHAPTER II 
 
 ized throughout by being predetermined as far as possible 
 by man. Things are not allowed to happen; they are 
 made to happen according to a well devised plan. Man is 
 not overwhelmed by circumstances ; he brings about con- 
 ditions which further his schemes. 
 
 The evolutionary conception. — As was pointed out 
 in the first chapter, primitive and semi-civilized man con- 
 ceived himself to be under the domination of various 
 unseen powers — in some cases it would hardly do to 
 call them spiritual. These powers controlled him and 
 nature, and whatever happened was their work. The 
 origin of the universe and of everything therein was 
 attributed to them, and this conception passed into the 
 English language through the Latin under the term 
 genesis, or creation. This is, however, a poor use of the 
 term genesis, since it means "becoming" rather than 
 "making." The idea involved is that nature is self-active 
 and contains potentialities for development. Nature is no 
 longer looked upon as a formless mass needing the ani- 
 mating touch of some spirit to give it life and definite 
 form ; it is supposed to contain within itself the necessary 
 power for variation and perfectibility. This new con- 
 ception became current through Darwin and Spencer un- 
 der the term evolution. Looked upon from this point of 
 view, society has evolved as an inevitable result of the 
 forces of nature. In order to live, every organism had 
 to adapt itself to an environment in which it could sur- 
 vive. Changes in surroundings required new adjust- 
 ments, and, since these were possible only through changes 
 in the organism, new structures were required. By con- 
 stant repetitions of change in environment and structure, 
 there were gradually evolved the various organisms in 
 the vegetable and animal world, nature selecting those 
 
SOCIAL DEVELOPMENT 23 
 
 that were best fitted to survive in a particular environ- 
 ment. Since the advantageous features in structure were 
 handed down by heredity, the effects became cumulative, 
 and it is thus possible to explain the increasingly greater 
 development of the higher organisms toward perfection. 
 The more complex the structure became, the better it 
 would meet different conditions in the environment. On 
 the other hand, a more varied environment required dif- 
 fering and more numerous adaptations, and became thus 
 a means for further development. 
 
 Protozoa, for instance, need hardly any structure, since 
 they find their food everywhere in their environment; 
 fishes require a more varied structure, since they have to 
 search for their food ; amphibia demand still more varied 
 organs, since they live both on land and in water. Most 
 animals are adapted to a particular environment, and 
 their structure is simple compared to that of man, who 
 is able to live in any climate. The greater the range 
 of environment, the more numerous are the possibilities 
 for changes, and the greater, consequently, the demands 
 for new adaptations, and, by implication, for new 
 structures. 
 
 This is, in the most simple terms, the theory of evolu- 
 tion as it was applied not only to organisms, from the 
 lowest to the highest, but also to human organizations. 
 The dominating idea all through was that of a passive 
 organism, adapting itself to changes in the environment 
 only when need arose. It is, of course, impossible to 
 follow here the different phases which evolution took, 
 and the various interpretations given to it at one time 
 and another by scientists starting from opposite points 
 of view. 
 
 Evolution and society. — Applied to society, this 
 
24 CHAPTER II 
 
 principle has found its chief advocates in the so-called 
 geographical or environmental theory, according to which 
 human organizations are as much the product of a par- 
 ticular country as are its flora and fauna. Henry Thomas 
 Buckle was the first to give systematic treatment to this 
 world-old conception, and Friedrich Ratzel the latest 
 to give it scientific form. A quotation from the Eng- 
 lish adaptation of his work will best illustrate the bear- 
 ing of that doctrine. 
 
 "Man is a product of the earth's surface. This means 
 not merely that he is a child of the earth, dust of her 
 dust; but that the earth has mothered him, fed him, 
 set him tasks, directed his thoughts, confronted him 
 with difficulties that have strengthened his body and 
 sharpened his wits, given him his problems of naviga- 
 tion or irrigation, and at the same time whispered hints 
 for their solution. She has entered into his bone and 
 tissue, into his mind and soul. On the mountains she 
 has given him leg muscles of iron to climb the slope; 
 along the coast she has left these weak and flabby, but 
 given him, instead, vigorous development of chest and 
 arm to handle his paddle or oar. In the river valley 
 she attaches him to the fertile soil, circumscribes his 
 ideas and ambitions by a dull round of calm, exacting 
 duties, narrows his outlook to the cramped horizon of 
 his farm. Up on the wind-swept plateaus, in the bound- 
 less stretch of the grasslands and the waterless tracts 
 of the desert, where he roams with his flocks from 
 pasture to pasture and oasis to oasis, where life knows 
 much hardship but escapes the grind of drudgery, where 
 the watching of grazing herd gives him leisure for con- 
 templation, and the wide-ranging life a big horizon, his 
 ideas take on a certain gigantic simplicity; religion be- 
 
SOCIAL DEVELOPMENT 25 
 
 comes monotheism, God becomes one, unrivaled like the 
 sand of the desert and the grass of the steppe, stretch- 
 ing on and on without break or change. Chewing over 
 and over the cud of his simple belief as the one food of 
 his unfed mind, his faith becomes fanaticism; his big 
 spatial ideas, born of that ceaseless regular wandering, 
 outgrow the land that bred them and bear their legiti- 
 mate fruit in wide imperial conquests."^ 
 
 Volumes have been written by other authors to prove 
 that a certain climate and a given geographical contour 
 of land and sea will produce a people with a certain char- 
 acter. The ancient Greeks have most frequently been 
 referred to as a nation which accomplished great achieve- 
 ments because it was favored with a salubrious climate 
 and with a land of mountains and valleys, of bays and 
 peninsulas, and of a rich flora and fauna. If that be 
 true, how can the defender of this theory explain the dif- 
 ference in the Greeks of today? None of the features 
 mentioned has changed. Mount Olympus is still there; 
 the Aegean still washes the shores of Attica; and the 
 sun which shone upon the heroes of Homer still glad- 
 dens the goat-herd of the hills. Everything is the 
 same; but the hero of old has turned into the goat- 
 herd of to-day; and the originator of deep philosophy 
 into the imitator of the shallower of French conventions. 
 
 The plains of Mesopotamia once upon a time were 
 the habitat of powerful races. Then for centuries they 
 became the dwelling places of most abject and decadent 
 peoples. The German government knew that the climate 
 has not changed, that the Tigris and Euphrates still water 
 large and fertile plains, and that only an influx of ener- 
 
 1 Influence of Geographic Environment; by Ellen Churchill Sample; 
 Henry Holt & Company, New York, 1911; pp. 1 and 2. 
 
26 CHAPTER 11 
 
 getic people is needed to turn this region into a granary 
 once more. Hence the desire to annex the territory 
 commercially by means of the Bagdad railroad. Ger- 
 man philosophers and geographers may declare the de- 
 pendence of man on climatical and physical features ; the 
 government proceeded on the principle that what was 
 once done in those p/ains can be done again with a 
 people of different heredity — a people that believes in 
 thrift, industry, science and commerce. 
 
 Fallacy of geographical theory. — The fundamental fal- 
 lacy of the geographical theory is the lack of distinction 
 between man and animal in the form of their reaction. 
 Generally speaking, the difference consists in the fact 
 that the animal is transformed by environment, while 
 man transforms it to a greater or lesser extent. No one 
 will deny, of course, that the man in the tropics differs 
 from the one in the arctics partly because of his environ- 
 ment. It is admitted by everyone, however, that both 
 th Eskimo and the Congo negro have reacted more or 
 less effectively on nature by protecting themselves against 
 her in various ways. This reaction differs essentially 
 from that of the animal which tries to accommodate 
 itself to changes in nature, as a matter of necessity and 
 only when they occur. Hence, whatever protection 
 against nature animals have developed in the course of 
 time, is always part of their own body, whether it be 
 thicker fur in winter, stronger claw of tiger or fleeter 
 foot of deer. This whole development is natural in the 
 sense that those animals which were in possession of 
 some advantageous characteristic, owing to fortuitous 
 variations, were selected by nature to survive, both as 
 individuals and species. Under particular geographical 
 conditions, specific characteristics were most advantage- 
 
SOCIAL DEVELOPMENT 27 
 
 ous, e. g., thick fur in the Arctics, and abihty to go with- 
 out water for several days in the sub-tropical deserts. 
 This does not mean that the desert makes the camel, or 
 the Arctics the polar bear; but simply that the species 
 starting with an initial ability in the direction required 
 was in a more favorable position to survive, and handed 
 down this ability to its offspring. The effect becoming 
 cumulative, the species gradually became better adapted 
 to that particular environment, until it lost the ability 
 to live anywhere else. It may thus be said to be con- 
 trolled by nature. 
 
 The development of human society originated very 
 much in the same way. Man had but little intelligence, 
 and was unable to adapt means to ends. He had to take 
 what nature offered, and to accommodate himself to her 
 whims the best way he could. Gradually he learned that 
 he might satisfy his desires better by using tools, making 
 provision for the future, and subjecting her forces to his 
 purposes. He became aware that individual effort 
 counted for something, and that by studying nature he 
 might ease his own exertions. The progress was made 
 in many directions. 
 
 Genetic development in antiquity. — What needs to be 
 explained briefly is the fact that this development was 
 still genetic. Men acted as a rule merely to satisfy some 
 desire; it was spontaneous and more or less emotional. 
 They might put forth great effort and act very shrewdly, 
 even ingeniously, to attain a certain end, and yet not 
 be concerned with anything beyond the immediate satis- 
 faction of a desire. An illustration from history will 
 make this plain. 
 
 We read of several world conquerors in the past, start- 
 ing out from Egypt, again from Persia or Assyria and 
 
28 CHAPTER II 
 
 Babylonia. Two remarkable facts about > them are, the 
 rapidity with which they accomplished their object, and 
 the short life of their empires. In twelve years Alexan- 
 der extended his empire from Macedonia to the Nile 
 and to the Indus; but in a shorter time that territory 
 reverted to a condition of anarchy under many princes 
 and chieftains. Each of these world conquerors had the 
 strong personal desire to control many human beings 
 •without a competitor for power. In the pursuit of this 
 object he spared no exertion and displayed great martial 
 ingenuity. But the moment the desire was satisfied, 
 activity slackened, and he abandoned himself to a life 
 of ease and revelry. 
 
 Telic development in Rome. — When we come to 
 ancient Rome, we find for the first time in history an 
 entirely different procedure. It took her two hundred 
 years to extend her territory fifty miles from her centre, 
 and seven hundred years to reach the English Channel. 
 But what she conquered, she held. Every means was 
 taken to ramify and fortify Roman dominion in the lands 
 which were subjugated. Military roads were built — ^not 
 for the duration of a few years, but, if that were possible, 
 for eternity; forts and cities were laid out, merchants 
 and agriculturalists were settled in the conquered terri- 
 tory, and liberty to govern themselves according to their 
 own laws was granted to the vanquished peoples. Every- 
 thing was done to make Roman rule perpetual. It was 
 not the whim of this or that emperor; it was the policy 
 of a people. "No step backward" is a truly Roman say- 
 ing. In pursuit of this course, Rome inaugurated two 
 policies of the utmost importance ; the jus gentium, or law 
 of nations, and religious toleration. The granting of 
 citizenship to members of defeated races illustrates the 
 
SOCIAL DEVELOPMENT 29 
 
 former, and the Pantheon in Rome, with its statues of 
 all the gods to be found in the Roman empire, the lat- 
 ter. The result was that the Roman empire lasted a cen- 
 tury to every year of that of Alexander. 
 
 The procedure of the world conquerors was genetic, 
 that of Rome was telic. 
 
 Differences between genetic and telic development. 
 
 — The difference between the two is, that genetic 
 development is chiefly emotional, is directed at immediate 
 ends, adapts itself as much as possible to nature, and sat- 
 isfies a comparatively narrow range of desires; while 
 telic progress is primarily intellectual, concerns itself 
 more with distant ends, adapts and improves the environ- 
 ment, and enriches life by satisfying an ever larger num- 
 ber of desires. This means that as long as the intellect 
 is not sufficiently mature, there is mere evolution or de- 
 velopment and that progress is dependent entirely on 
 intellectual growth. 
 
 The transition from genetic development to telic prog- 
 ress has taken place at different times among the various 
 nations but is not complete in any race. Many indi- 
 viduals even in the most civilized nations are still in the 
 transition stage. 
 
 Transition from genetic to telic development. — ^The 
 various steps leading from the one to the other are, briefly 
 stated, instinct and intellect, exuberance of imagination, 
 philosophy and science, pessimism and optimism. 
 
 Instinct is chiefly emotional. Every instinct, whether 
 it is that for eating or mating, is accompanied by a 
 strong feeling, and action is entirely dependent on the 
 intensity of that feeling. In animals and children in- 
 stincts are as a rule inerrant and lead to wholesome 
 
30 CHAPTER II 
 
 action. An animal or child hardly overloads its diges- 
 tive organs, because when the instinct for food is satis- 
 fied, the appetite ceases and eating is stopped. Any 
 deviation from this procedure is an indication of disease. 
 What the child and the animal do instinctively, a civilizecj 
 adult does intelligently; he will not eat more than a 
 certain amount of food and will vary his diet. Between 
 these two there are innumerable stages. The price which 
 the human race had to pay for the development of the 
 intellect, has been very high, since there is a tremendous 
 distance between the inerrant instinct of the animal and 
 the intelligence of civilized man, and the road between 
 the two is strewn with wrecks and corpses of whole 
 races. The acquisition of intelligence had to be paid 
 for by the loss of the inerrancy of instinct, and, as intel- 
 lect did not appear at once as instinct vanished, mankind 
 had to pay a staggering price for its new possession. In- 
 telligence can be acquired by a race or by an individual 
 only through experience, and that takes time. The birth 
 of intelligence in man meant, consequently, that his in- 
 stincts were no longer normal and infallible, because 
 they had been tampered with by the growing mind. 
 
 The animal's mentality does not extend beyond its im- 
 mediate wants. A dog is concerned only with what he 
 needs now and here. He has no surplus mentality in 
 the form of fears and hopes, desires and aversions, unless 
 they be aroused by an object immediately before him. 
 Hence his instincts are normal and guide him correctly. 
 
 The mind of man began with a surplus over the imme- 
 diate needs of the body and the present. It possessed 
 an abundance of feeling and imagination. His imagina- 
 tion pictured scenes of feasting and sexual indulgence 
 to^him when there was no physical call for them. la 
 
SOCIAL DEVELOPMENT 31 
 
 the course of time, as he yielded to his imagination, 
 his instincts gradually lost their infallibility, and he was 
 left without rudder in the sea of his own tempestuous 
 desires, because intellect had not developed sufficiently 
 to serve as a guide or to point to future satisfactions. 
 
 The whole of his exuberant imagination was directed 
 toward the satisfaction of immediate ends. But what 
 other ends could he have except physical satisfactions? 
 Hence, the over-indulgence in food and sex, in fighting 
 and quarreling. Since his imagination was neither curbed 
 nor illumined by reason, he furthermore fell into all kinds 
 of superstitions about ghosts and spirits, his fears mul- 
 tiplied, and he invented endless tales and myths to account 
 for evils. It was always some immediate good that he 
 sought; either a pleasure or the removal of a fear or 
 pain. Even virtue had its immediate reward in being 
 repaid by the gods with plenty and long life. The transi- 
 tion came when this crude philosophy was seen to be 
 untrue to life, and resort was taken to a later and future 
 punishment of the wicked, as was noted in the preceding 
 chapter. Religion served thus the purpose of giving man 
 a perspective of the future. 
 
 This perspective was the opening wedge for a less 
 crude philosophy. Man still felt dependent on the unseen 
 powers. But he now began to reason about them. Ani- 
 mism and fetichism were supplanted at first by poly- 
 theism, then by henotheism, and eventually by mono- 
 theism. Since all deities either represented various pow- 
 ers of nature, or were supposed to control them, man 
 naturally sought to explain all happenings through them. 
 Religion — in those days identical with philosophy — ^be- 
 came, consequently, a continuous effort to conciliate the 
 gods either by averting their anger or winning their 
 
32 CHAPTER II 
 
 favor. This constituted an adaptation to nature as it 
 was then understood. Since the divine powers repre- 
 sented various forces of nature, the object of "peace 
 offerings" and "burnt offerings" was to express an in- 
 tense desire to placate nature or adapt oneself to it. It 
 Was submission to powers which could not be controlled. 
 The endeavor to conciliate a deity because of a failing 
 harvest implied very plainly the inability to produce a 
 crop by one's own efforts. 
 
 Compensation in educability. — The loss of the iner- 
 rancy of instinct was, however, not without compensating 
 features, chief among which was the educability of man. 
 Being no longer guided by an infallible instinct, man 
 had to learn by the method of "trial and error," or 
 perish. He soon found that exuberance of imagination 
 with its attendant over-indulgence in sex and food was 
 ruinous to the race and the individual. He had to think 
 of means and methods to curb both of these appetites. 
 It is due to this idea that institutions along these and 
 other lines gradually came into existence. Every social 
 institution, whether in the form of folkway, usage, cus- 
 tom, or regular establishment, began, and had to begin, 
 with restraint and regulation in order to lead to free- 
 dom. One of these, the family, will be discussed in the 
 next chapter as an illustration of this process. The only 
 thing which concerns us here is the psychic change which 
 took place in man when the infallibility of his instincts 
 was gone. 
 
 Development of animal. — The animal develops by 
 adapting itself to nature, or rather to a particular en- 
 vironment. When that adaptation is complete, develop- 
 ment of necessity stops, since changes in structure can 
 occur only when a great change places a strain on the 
 
SOCIAL DEVELOPMENT 23 
 
 organism in order to meet the new conditions. When 
 every organ and the organism as a whole are able to 
 meet the exigencies of a particular environment, there 
 is no longer the incentive for special exertion calling for 
 accommodation by means of new structures, and only 
 the demands for normal effort to sustain life are left. 
 These are sufficient to incite the animal to wholesome 
 activity along different lines. When this stage has been 
 reached, and when every organ responds almost auto- 
 matically to the stimuli from the environment, instinct — 
 the psychic counterpart of structure — becomes fixed, and 
 no further development either physically or mentally 
 takes place. That, at least, would be the situation under 
 ideal conditions of a perfect adaptation. There are, of 
 course, no absolutely ideal conditions ; thus there is always 
 a demand for new adaptations in animals. These are, 
 however, so minute and infinitesimal, that within his- 
 toric times scarcely any radical changes have been no- 
 ticed in the known species of animals, and that they have 
 not affected their mentality to any considerable extent—- 
 at least not sufficiently to make the transition from a 
 lite of instinct to one of reason necessary. 
 
 Development of man. — It was different in the case of 
 man. When his surplus mentality developed in the form 
 of excess feeling, whatever may have been the cause, his 
 instincts failed to function in a normal manner, and he 
 could not adapt himself completely to any one environ- 
 ment. This meant that he must acquire a substitute for 
 instinct in the form of an agency which made it possible 
 for him to adapt himself to varying conditions and differ- 
 ent environments. His instincts being no longer a safe 
 guide to action, he had to try to learn from both success 
 and failure. If a particular mistake made was not too 
 
34 CHAPTER II 
 
 grievous and he profited from it to the extent of avoid- 
 ing similar action in future, he had learned a valuable 
 lesson. 
 
 In proportion as he profited from both success and 
 failure he gradually acquired some sort of rudimentary 
 reasoning power which enabled him to devise the most 
 simple methods of proceeding in an indirect manner. He 
 substituted simple tools for brute physical strength, and 
 began to resort to various forms of the ruse, outwitting 
 animals of superior strength with the club, ax and arrow, 
 and those of greater fleetness with the trap and ambush. 
 No one knows just how early the first simple tools were 
 invented; it is certain, though, that some have been 
 found among the remains of paleolithic man. Experience 
 taught him to handle these instruments better, and bet- 
 ter handling suggested changes and modifications in them 
 and led to the invention of others. Knowledge was at 
 first merely an addition of experiences, and remained so 
 for thousands of years. In a general way this stage of 
 man's development may be identified with what we have 
 called the genetic process. Throughout this stage, though, 
 man proved to be educable and learned by experience to 
 do new things, or old things in a new way. 
 
 Mental tools. — An entirely new stage in progress 
 was reached when man became dissatisfied with the mere 
 accretion of experiences, and tried to understand the 
 principles underlying them. This led to the invention 
 of what the late Professor Ward has called mental tools, 
 by which he means from a linguistic point of view, gen- 
 eral instead of concrete terms, and from the logical, gen- 
 eral conceptions, classifications and other devices for sim- 
 plifying intellectual processes. How late and difficult 
 an acquisition this was may be inferred from the fact 
 
SOCIAL DEVELOPMENT 35 
 
 that even today some nomads in the Hindu Kush Moun- 
 tains have six different terms to indicate passes with 
 various declivities or heights, and about twelve to dis- 
 tinguish the shades of brown and gray among their 
 flocks. A general conception of pass is lacking, and the 
 distinction cannot be made by means of adjectives and 
 adverbs ; hence each kind of pass has its own term, which 
 in a particular settlement tends to become a name. It 
 is the same with the different tints of gray and brown 
 among the sheep and goats. 
 
 These mental tools facilitated intellectual expansion 
 enormously. Take, as an example, the multiplication 
 table, by means of which very much larger calculations 
 can be made than waj possible by mere addition. The 
 vast number of terms in logic, philosophy, science, and 
 other branches of human reasoning are each and every 
 one a saving of mental energy, making possible an ex- 
 tension in other directions. 
 
 The invention of mental tools was accompanied by an 
 endeavor to discover the inner meaning of the processes 
 in which men engaged. At first almost any object asso- 
 ciated accidentally with a particular occurrence might 
 and often was given as the cause. Other causes were 
 invented, such as magic, witchcraft, and many forms 
 of primitive deities. This form of reasoning is called 
 mythological. That does not mean it is illogical, but 
 rather that the premises are fictitious or artificial. It 
 has survived to this day even in civilized communities 
 among those who lack a good general education or scien- 
 tific training. It is found among children who often in- 
 vent the most artificial causes for certain occurrences. 
 Poets and dreamers are particularly subject to this form 
 of reasoning; but it is current among those people with 
 
36 CHAPTER II 
 
 whom a desire for something is a sufficient reason for 
 getting it. Most of the social Utopias are the result of 
 this k^nd of intellectuality. Emotion, benevolent and 
 comprehensive, is at the bottom of it, but is not con- 
 trolled by calm reasoning. Whoever is led by fancies 
 and shirks facts, is apt to reason mythologically. 
 
 Science and prevision. — Scientific reasoning is a 
 much later result and represents a greater mental ma- 
 turity. It generally starts from facts and observation 
 and proceeds by induction. Owing to this procedure, a 
 more systematic and accurate knowledge of at least a 
 limited field of facts is acquired, and prevision and pre- 
 diction become possible within its area. This makes ex- 
 periment possible, and the extension of knowledge on a 
 firmly established basis is only a question of time. 
 
 From the sociological point of view this means the 
 final transition from the genetic development to the telic 
 progress. Society no longer depends on the good-will 
 cf nature, but forces it to yield what man wants. If an 
 area is dry, it is irrigated ; if it is wet, it is drained. The 
 objection may be raised that some ancients, for instance, 
 the Chaldeans, understood the art of irrigation. That 
 is readily admitted, but it can be said with good reason 
 that a knowledge of the science of irrigation was lacking. 
 Mere observation taught those people that water can be 
 made to flow to a lower level. They were, however, 
 unable to tunnel a mountain, as was done at the Roose- 
 velt Dam, and get the water to a valley on the other 
 side. 
 
 >. iViodern medicine offers, perhaps, the best example of 
 relic progress. No matter how skillful physicians may 
 nave been in the past — and they rarely were — their con- 
 ception was always limited to the curing of disease. Now 
 
SOCIAL DEVELOPMENT 57 
 
 the whole conception has changed, and the idea prevails 
 among the enlightened members of the community and 
 in the medical fraternity that the chief occupation of 
 the physician should be maintenance of health as a normal 
 condition of man. Measures are consequently taken 
 through dietetics, hygiene, and sanitation to produce con- 
 ditions in the home and the city which will insure health 
 to every intelligent person. The whole attitude of modern 
 medicine tends toward prevention, or prophylaxis, and 
 the universities have expressed this tendency by granting 
 specialists along this line the diploma of doctor of public 
 health. 
 
 This implies a fundamental change in the whole con- 
 ception of man concerning himself. He recognizes him- 
 self as an agent in the making of his own fate. He no 
 longer adapts himself to nature, but subjugates her for 
 his own purposes. The pious man of antiquity might 
 pray and make offerings for health and long life; the 
 modern man knows that these two blessings are a result 
 of good heredity, rational living, and sanitation; and he 
 takes his measures accordingly. He knows that ample 
 harvests are the result of good tilling, proper rotation 
 of crops, fertilizing, and the prevention of rust: he no 
 longer trusts to the efficiency of parading the images of 
 gods and saints through the fields. He does not wait 
 until nature forces him to adapt himself to her changing 
 moods, but goes forth boldly to impose his purposes upon 
 her — unwilling and parsimonious though she be. 
 
 Emotional Refinement. — The development of men- 
 tality from the genetic to the telic attitude implies a 
 refinement of satisfactions and an increase in their num- 
 ber. The pleasures of primitive man and of the unedu- 
 cated to-day are chiefly those of sense and emotion. There 
 
38 CHAPTER II 
 
 was little in ancient times that could furnish pleasure 
 apart from food, sex, and the exultation from success 
 in war and the chase. Even during the Middle Ages 
 the masses had little more, unless it be the elevating 
 influence of religion. To-day the educated have a vast 
 variety of intellectual pleasures, and even the ignorant 
 enjoy "shows" of one kind or another, whether at a 
 summer resort or in the theatres and "movies." Every 
 man has an immensely wider range of interests than ever 
 before. He may be interested only in the stock exchange 
 quotations of his paper, but he cannot help casting at 
 least a fleeting glance at the head-lines on the first page. 
 He is unable to escape the many impressions which crowd 
 upon him in his home or in his shop. Satisfactions come 
 to him even though it be only through victory in business, 
 or the pleasure of fast travel. The scientist and the 
 philosopher have a vast number of opportunities which 
 the ancients were denied. Those men depended for their 
 intellectual development on a few teachers whom it was 
 often difficult to reach ; to-day the whole world of thought 
 is opened up before the searcher for knowledge. 
 
 True, pleasures may not be refined in every respect. 
 Nevertheless, there is a vast difference between the bru- 
 talities of the savage, perpetrated with the view of en- 
 joying the writhings of the victim, and the almost in- 
 numerable acts of kindness done by modern man out of 
 sympathy with sufferers. Acts, like the relief of Servia, 
 Belgium and Poland, would not only have been impos- 
 sible five thousand years ago, owing to the lack of sym- 
 pathy and to the narrowness of social consciousness which 
 would have caused people to rejoice in the sufferings of 
 others as a just reward for wickedness or idolatry; but 
 sympathy, even if it had existed, could not have found 
 
SOCIAL DEVELOPMENT 39 
 
 a way of manifesting itself, owing to the absence of 
 surplus wealth and ot means of communication — ^both 
 created by telic thought. The most remarkable thing 
 about this modern philanthropy is that we take it as a 
 matter of course and never think of the phenomenal 
 change which has come over the world within a few cen- 
 turies. Now the whole world is kin; formerly there 
 were only strangers and enemies whose misfortunes often 
 evoked positive joy. Certam psalms owe their origin 
 to this pleasure in the smiting of the enemy by the "lord 
 of hosts." This still happens occasionally among the 
 uneducated. It is, however, no longer the attitude of 
 the more advanced classes and races. The signing of 
 the Treaty of Paris, June 28, 1919, is a good illustration 
 of how civilized man has advanced in the treatment of 
 his enemies. The Allies divested this ceremony — one 
 of the most momentous in the world's history — of all 
 splendor and of every feature which could have humili- 
 ated the beaten Germans. It was a business transaction 
 only, and not an opportunity for exulting over a defeated 
 enemy. Likewise it was an apt expression of this new 
 attitude when a captain of the American Navy discour- 
 aged the cheerings of his less refined sailors on the oc- 
 casion of the sinking of the Spanish ships at Santiago 
 Tvith the words : "Don't cheer, boys, those poor devils are 
 ■dying !" 
 
 Few men fully civilized. — The implication through- 
 out this chapter has been that not all men have made the 
 transition from genetic to telic thought. This needs a 
 little emphasis now. There has been a discussion in 
 sociological circles as to the value of leaders — men like 
 Spencer, declaring that the masses are doing practically 
 all the work for progress and that the so-called leaders 
 
40 CHAPTER II 
 
 have merely become their mouthpieces. It is not neces- 
 sary to enter into the details of the discussion. Even 
 philosophers are sometimes led astray by their theories 
 or their love for logic. There is no need to go back 
 into history for proof., Any careful observer of his 
 own times cannot fail to notice that small indeed is the 
 number of those who have the gift of long foresight 
 and the willingness to sacrifice present enjoyments for 
 those in the future. Telic thought always requires these 
 two qualities. There are many men who look longingly 
 into the future as the time of the realization of all their 
 expectations. There are few, though, who recognize that 
 hopes do not come true of themselves, and that "our ships 
 never come in" unless we steer them aright. That mccins 
 close, diligent, and persistent application through many 
 years. A telic attitude requires not only intellectual gifts 
 but moral qualities. 
 
 ' Leaders are few. — Looking at life, no one can fail 
 to notice that only certain men have this ability. They 
 are not only inventors and innovators, but leaders of 
 men in moral reforms and social reconstruction. They 
 do not merely wish society well, but strive earnestly to 
 bring about better conditions. Their principal work con- 
 sists often in overcoming the inertia of their less gifted 
 and less conscientious fellow-men. It is frequently a 
 matter of the utmost difficulty to change a community 
 from a genetic to a telic attitude. Men are more apt 
 to let things happen than to make them happen. The 
 work of prevision consists, consequently, not only in ac- 
 tually adopting suitable means to clearly conceived ends, 
 but, especially in the social realm, in overcoming the 
 bias and prejudice of one's contemporaries. 
 
 What is true in this to-day, has always been true. 
 
SOCIAL DEVELOPMENT 41 
 
 The masses have needed leaders in order to progress; 
 without them even genetic development would have been 
 much slower, and telic progress would never have come 
 about. There is, consequently, a certain justification in 
 the method of the older historians, in making history 
 a matter of leaders. Their fault lay in confining leader- 
 ship to armies. If the leaders of thought, of science, 
 of art, and of morality had been included, there would 
 be less reason for complaint about the shortcomings of 
 the older historians. 
 
 If we regard society as having achieved progress 
 through its leaders, the question whether these men at- 
 tained their position by virtue of innate capacity or by 
 means of favorable circumstances, deserves brief notice. 
 A distinction should be made between opportunities for 
 certain races, and opportunities for individuals in the 
 same race. 
 
 In regard to races it is generally admitted that among 
 savage peoples the opportunities for development are 
 few. Perhaps the only avenue for distinction lies in 
 military leadership; sometimes in religion. A Newton 
 or an Edison could certainly not have arisen among the 
 Hottentots. The intellectual level of the social environ- 
 ment is too low among those people to permit of a high 
 development even of the most gifted men. These two 
 scientists might perhaps have become famous magicians 
 in a savage community, but could not have risen higher, 
 because every man depends ultimately on his social en- 
 vironment. If that is low, he may raise it to a some- 
 what higher level; but he cannot, single-handed, change 
 the whole mental attitude of a people. Because of too 
 great insistence on radical changes many reformers have 
 paid the penalty of death. A slow accumulation of 
 
42 CHAPTER II 
 
 knowledge is necessary to produce permanent improve- 
 ments. These must be introduced gradually so as not 
 to put too great a tax on human endurance. For this 
 reason, as a rule only a people with a long history is 
 able to make any valuable contributions to human wel- 
 fare. Why some races have advanced and others have 
 not, is, however, not a part of this discussion. 
 
 When we speak of opportunities within civilized races, 
 the picture changes materially. Here it is not so much 
 a question of opportunity as one of ability. Society, 
 after all, cannot offer more to any man than opportuni- 
 ties. Some men have more of them than others. But 
 no man can become a leader merely by having opportuni- 
 ties. The essential thing is always the use he makes 
 of them. A man of talent will create them if they do 
 not exist, or go to places where he may find them. The 
 immigrants who have become prominent in America and 
 other new countries illustrate the latter policy, Shakes- 
 peare the former. No man could have had fewer oppor- 
 tunities than William of Stratford on Avon. With very 
 little education, with no money, and with a social stigma 
 on his name, he went to London, and there among 
 carousing and immoral actors, became not only a man 
 of means, but attained everlasting fame. The maelstrom 
 which drew others down into moral and physical ruin, 
 served Shakespeare as a scaffold to rise to mental great- 
 ness. To make the point more specific, his brother Gil- 
 bert was associated with him for many years, and had 
 apparently the same heredity and opportunities; but he 
 is known only to a comparatively few people as William's 
 brother. Innate ability is, if history speaks truth, of 
 greater importance than opportunity. 
 
 It may, nevertheless, be true that Gray's "mute and 
 inglorious Miltons" are lying in many a country church 
 
SOCIAL DEVELOPMENT 43 
 
 yard. And society, at least its leaders, would have it 
 differently in the future. Telic progress wants to utilize 
 not only the resources of nature, but those of men and 
 women to the fullest extent. Hence democracy has al- 
 ready established common schools and other agencies 
 for giving opportunities to those who might otherwise 
 have no chance for development. For progress is es- 
 sentially mental, and the more leaders a society has, 
 the more stable it will become and the higher it will 
 rise. 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 THE MORALIZATION OF THE FAMILY 
 
 Importance of the family. — The family is a good 
 illustration of the general development of all social insti- 
 tutions through genetic stages in the earlier periods to 
 telic progress in the later, and will be treated here from 
 that point of view exclusively. This means that the 
 mental aspects of the problem should be kept constantly 
 in mind — the moral values, the emotional refinements, 
 and the intellectual breadth and depth. For, to repeat 
 the remark of the last chapter, progress is essentially 
 mental. 
 
 The study of the family yields perhaps more scientific 
 knowledge concerning society than that of any other in- 
 stitution. Pursued historically, it touches the roots of 
 property, separate ownership of land, inheritance, rent, 
 taxation, free trade and protection, government, law, re- 
 ligion, and contains the germs of international relations. 
 A brief historical review of the early family will be given 
 in order to prepare the ground for its interpretation from 
 the point of mental values. 
 
 Origin of the family. — It is impossible to discuss 
 here the many and conflicting views concerning the origin 
 and the purpose of the family. Almost every historian, 
 theologian, jurist, and sociologist has attempted to con- 
 struct a theory on the basis of real or alleged facts. Even 
 to enumerate these theories is beyond the scope of this 
 chapter. The works of Bachof en, Westermark, Howard, 
 and others are known to the specialist, and may be ob- 
 tained in any large library by the general reader. 
 
 44 
 
THE MORALIZATION OF THE FAMILY 45 
 
 The origin of the family is shrouded in the mysteries 
 of the prehistoric past, and no amount of investigation 
 is Hkely to unravel the tangled skeins. Whether the two 
 sexes lived originally in promis<-nity, polyandry, or poly- 
 gyny, will never be known with certainty, since records 
 are wanting and the only evidence we have — that of 
 contemporary nature peoples — is conflicting. All that 
 can be given in this brief review, is an approximation 
 to the probable development of the family. ^ 
 
 Temporary pairing. — Perhaps the most natural as- 
 sumption concerning the primitive family is that of 
 temporary pairing. The arguments in favor of this hy- 
 pothesis are partly biological, partly ethnographical, and 
 partly economical. 
 
 Different forms of the family exist among higher 
 animals ; generally that one prevails in a particular species 
 which is most in harmony with the plane of its develop- 
 ment. The most frequent form is that of temporary 
 pairing, which means that a male and a female consort 
 dijring the mating season to the exclusion of other indi- 
 viduals of their species and live together until the off- 
 spring are able to take care of themselves. This is the 
 form among the stronger predatory animals, e. g., lions, 
 tigers, and bears. Among other species the offspring 
 enjoy the protection of the parents for a longer period, 
 especially among the non-predatory. Irrespective, how- 
 ever, of the amount of protection afforded to the young, 
 strict pairing is the rule among some monkeys, rumi- 
 nants, ungulates and the predatory animals mentioned. 
 Some monkeys, it is true, are polygynous, but they live 
 in families. It may be assumed that man was at least 
 on this plane of development when he branched oflE as an 
 independent species. 
 
46 CHAPTER III 
 
 The ethnographical arguments for temporary pairing 
 are twofold. Just as the males of certain animals fight 
 for the females, so do the men among lower and higher 
 races fight for the women, as reported of the Chippe- 
 wajans. Slave Indians, the Queensland Australians, and 
 the Dogrib Indians. It is not likely that men who risk 
 their lives in a fight for a woman, would willingly sub- 
 mit to her associating with other men — she must be faith- 
 ful at least for a time. But the general looseness of 
 the family tie to be found among all uncivilized peoples 
 of to-day argues that strict monogamy was not even 
 thought of in prehistoric times. 
 
 From the economic point we find that primitive man 
 had to seek food constantly. The law of self preserva- 
 tion would force him to look for it alone, or with his 
 mate, since.no traces of altruism are likely to have ani- 
 mated him. The search for food implied, however, 
 ranging far and near, for which the small group such as 
 the temporarily paired family, was best suited. 
 
 Can later and different forms of the family be ex- 
 plained on the basis of primitive temporary pairing? 
 Let us look at the facts. Evolution is not necessarily 
 upward all the time, but downward occasionally. Among 
 nature peoples of to-day we find group marriage, poly- 
 andry, polygyny, monogamy, and temporary pairing. In 
 other words, there have been changes upward and down- 
 ward, and in a few cases, none whatever. Group mar- 
 riage, or, as it is sometimes designated, promiscuity, is 
 possible onlv in a society where the social nature has 
 developed in a wrong direction, or where the men have 
 no fighting ability. But even there limitations are im- 
 posed. There is no statement to the effect that promis- 
 cuity extended outside of the group. Moreover, when- 
 
THE MORALIZATION OF THE FAMILY 47 
 
 ever such a condition is described, the quaHfying adverb 
 "almost" is always added; e. g., concerning the Haidas, 
 the Erulars, the Teehurs. In other words, such a family 
 relation merely expresses loose sexual relations, as e. g., 
 among the Montras "who marry without acquaintance, 
 and divorce for trifles, and among whom some men 
 marry forty or fifty times," or among some Bedouin 
 tribes where a man may have fifty wives in succession."- 
 
 Polyandry. — From this rather incongruous family 
 there developed in the course of time through the scarcity 
 of wives, owing to war or food, the polyandric family 
 in its ascending forms. When several unrelated men 
 marry one wife, it is called Nair; when several related 
 men, brothers or half-brothers marry one wife, it is 
 called Tibetan. Polyandry is found only among unwar- 
 like and very poor peoples, e. g., Tibetans, the Khasias, 
 Ladakhis, the Eskimos, and others. The only exceptions 
 in regard to poverty as a cause of polyandry are in some 
 parts of Ceylon where it occurred until recently, chiefly 
 among the wealthier classes, and where it may be a 
 survival from former times, having become a rigid 
 custom. 
 
 Polygyny. — Perhaps simultaneously with the poly- 
 andric family developed the polygynic, since the women 
 stolen or captured from one tribe, became plural wives 
 of the conquerors. Although widely distributed over 
 practically every quarter of the globe, it is usually found 
 among warlike races, or among the military castes of 
 other races; and it usually means that the idea of per- 
 sonal property is well advanced, since wives were con- 
 sidered partly trophies and partly slaves. In its pure 
 
 1 H. Spencer, Principles of Sociology, Tol. 1, pp. 644 and 680. Apple- 
 ton's edition. 
 
48 CHAPTER III 
 
 forms polygyny exists among Mahometans, Australians, 
 American Indians, Negroes, etc.; in its modified forms, 
 as lawful concubinage, all over the East, or unlawful, in 
 Europe and America; and as temporary marriage until 
 recently in Japan. In the majority of cases polygyny 
 is practiced by the well-to-do only, except among some 
 very poor peoples where women become the drudges and 
 several of them are needed to support a husband. 
 
 Among a number of savages all of these three forms 
 of the family exist side by side and are equally tolerated, 
 circumstances determining the particular form most in 
 favor. 
 
 A peculiar form of family exists among the Todas of 
 India, the marriage of several brpthers or rather half- 
 brothers to several sisters who are not related to them. 
 Each brother is husband to each sister, and vice versa. 
 This form of the family is known by its Hawaiian name, 
 punaluan, because it was found in those islands when 
 the whites invaded them. 
 
 Survivals of older forms. — Certain customs may be 
 regarded as survivals or transition stages from group 
 marriage, e. g., that of showing hospitaliy to a stranger 
 by lending him one's wife or daughter, as practised by 
 Polynesians, Berbers, Arabs, Kaffirs, Mongols, etc., and 
 the marriage of a woman for only four days of the week, 
 leaving her free to associate with other men the other 
 days, as practised among the Arabs of the Hassanyeh. 
 
 Monogamy. — Temporary pairing likewise lent itself 
 to the development of monogamy. If the two parties 
 agreed and were compatible, they might extend their 
 union indefinitely, or make it a life partnership. For mo- 
 nogamy means, theoretically at least, a union for life. 
 "Even in Scotland before the Reformation the practice of 
 
THE MORALIZATION OF THE FAMILY 49 
 
 hand-fastening was common, whereby at the public fairs 
 men selected female companions with whom to cohabit 
 for a year, at the end of which they would either leave or 
 marry."* If trial marriages existed in that country as 
 late as the sixteenth century, it is safe to infer that 
 they must have existed among other and less civilized 
 peoples more frequently. That such temporary unions 
 may become permanent and then customary and finally 
 obligatory, is illustrated clearly by the primitive Wood- 
 Veddahs of Ceylon, concerning whom Spencer quotes^ 
 Bailey to this effect: "Divorce is unknown among them 
 .... I have heard a Veddah say 'Death alone separ- 
 ates husband and wife.' " 
 
 Matriarchy and patriarchy. — Temporary pairing fur- 
 nishes, thus, a good basis for the evolution of other 
 forms of the family — group marriage being a retrograde 
 movement, the others improvements. Of the sociological 
 and ethical value of the different forms we shall speak 
 later; but before doing so two pairs of terms which have 
 been prominent in the history of the family, must be 
 considered; i. e., exogamy and endogamy, and matri- 
 archate and patriarchate. 
 
 Matriarchate or matronymy means the tracing of the 
 descent of children through the mother, and since this 
 form of family headship gives woman a predominance 
 over man, it is in a general, although not in an exact, 
 sense equivalent to gynaecocracy or female rule. Patri- 
 archate or patronymy means the tracing of descent 
 through the father, and is termed correspondingly andro- 
 cracy or male rule. 
 
 1 W'^stmark, History of Efuraan Marriage, p. 71. 
 
 2 Principles of Sociology, Vol. I, p. 620. 
 
i50 CHAPTER III 
 
 In group marriage paternity was entirely uncertain, 
 except as it was confined to the men in the group. In 
 polyandry it was located more definitely, but was still 
 uncertain, being attributable to any one of the three co 
 five or more husbands. It was natural that in both of 
 these forms of the family, descent had to be traced 
 through the mother, and this gave rise to the matri- 
 archate. The immediate, although not the sole, motive 
 for taking any interest at all in the tracing of children 
 was individual or family property. The matriarchate 
 or metronymy was probably the original form of filiation. 
 Traces of it are found, though, to this very day, e. g., 
 in the custom prevalent, especially in Malaysia, which 
 requires a husband to live in his wife's family. 
 
 The Couvade. — With the introduction of polygyny 
 the patriarchate gained the ascendance, since the father 
 was definitely known, and the children were named after 
 him, thus giving rise to the term patronymy or patro- 
 nymic societies. This form of the family is practically 
 universal now. But in order to show how hard a struggle 
 it must have had with the preceding form of the matri- 
 archate, reference may be made to the so-called couvade, 
 the cause of which Letourneau states thus:^ "For a long 
 time it was not suspected that the man had anything to 
 do with the pregnancy of the woman. When it began 
 to be suspected the ridiculous ceremonies of the couvade 
 were invented by which the man. in recognizing his pa- 
 ternity, sought also to draw upon himself in part at least, 
 the malevolence of the evil spirit who watched the mother 
 during and after the labor of parturition. The couvade 
 has been discovered in a sufficient number of races and 
 sufficiently often to justify the belief that the state of 
 
 1 Quoted by Ward, Pure Sociology, p. 343. 
 
THE MORALIZATION OF THE FAMILY 51 
 
 mind that it reveals was common to all peoples at a 
 certain stage of their evolution." Reduced to its sim- 
 plest terms this peculiar custom means that originally the 
 birth of a child was attributed to a spirit, ancestral, or 
 malevolent; and that at the time when the patriarchate 
 was still fighting for ascendance, the father simulated 
 all the various features of child-bearing, since to the 
 simple minded nature peoples the illness, throes, etc., 
 of parturition were evidence of spirit possession, and 
 therefore of the origin of the child; the fiction of the 
 couvade, by which he imitated all the external symptoms, 
 gave him consequently a claim to the child technically and 
 actually. The custom, once established, continued to be 
 practised among certain people even after its original 
 cause had disappeared and the true cause of child birth 
 became known, e. g., among the Basques in the Pyrenees. 
 Among many other peoples who still practice this custom 
 are some Indian tribes in Brazil and Guiana. 
 
 Another survival of gynaecocracy or woman-rule is 
 amazonism, or the practice of recruiting fighters at least 
 in part from among the women, e. g., among the Da- 
 homeyans, Battas of Sumatra, Botocudos of Eastern 
 Brazil, etc. — in all about twenty different peoples. 
 
 Endogamy. — How were incest and inbreeding pre- 
 vented' among primitive peoples ? This question brings 
 us te endogamy or marriage within the clan, and exogamy, 
 or marriage without the clan. Incest has not nearly the 
 same repugnance to primitive people, as it has among 
 us. Inbreeding was learned to be injurious at a much 
 later time. We find therefore that marriage with the 
 nearest relative is often permitted. Greek mythology re- 
 ports that Zeus and Hera were brother and sister ; Chal- 
 dean mythology, that gods and goddesses were fathers. 
 
52 CHAPTER III 
 
 sons, brothers, mothers, and sisters, as well as husbands 
 and wives to each other; and Egyptian mythology, that 
 Isis and Osiris were sister and brother as well as wife 
 and husband. It is clear that what was considered en- 
 tirely natural among the gods, could not have been for- 
 bidden to men. Among peoples in a very low state of 
 civilization marriages of the closest kin are frequent; 
 e. g., among the Niam Niams in Africa the chiefs take 
 their daughters for wives, the Teita iii East Africa marry 
 mothers and sisters, and the Ostiaks consider a marriage 
 to two sisters at the same time very fortunate, and the 
 Veddahs, although abhorring marriage to an older sister, 
 commend that to a younger one as most auspicious. Even 
 among more civilized peoples close inbreeding is consid- 
 ered favorably, especially among royalty in order to keep 
 the blood pure; e. g., among the kings of Teneriffe, the 
 Ptolmies and the Incas each married their own sisters, 
 the Pharaohs married their sisters and daughters, while 
 Rameses II and Artaxerxes each married two of their 
 own daughters and Psammetik I one daughter. Gradu- 
 ally a ban was put upon marriages of this kind ; however, 
 those of relatives must have been rather frequent in a 
 small clan where endogamy was practised. 
 
 Exogamy. — The reasons which led to the abandoning' 
 of endogamy are three: (1) The chiefs and other war- 
 riors took the women of the vanquished for wives as tro- 
 phies. The possession of foreign wives indicated, con- 
 sequently, prowess and skill in war, and social standing 
 was determined by these qualities. (2) Since the imi- 
 tation of leaders is. however, a trait of human nature, 
 the lesser men strove to capture wives for themselves, 
 or later to buy them, so as to enjoy the reputation of hav- 
 ing warlike qualities at least by proxy. (3) The increase 
 
THE MORALIZATION OF THE FAMILY 53 
 
 in vigor and courage exhibited by the offspring of these 
 marriages could not have escaped observation at a com- 
 paratively early date among the more progressive races, 
 and the formerly accidental marriages by capture were 
 now^ prescribed by custom in the form of exogamy either 
 by capture, purchase, or presents. The domestication of 
 animals must also have taught man the dangers of too 
 close inbreeding, and led to the avoidance of marrying 
 at least immediate relatives, and to the preference for 
 entirely unrelated women as wives. 
 
 When the custom was once established, numerous 
 taboos and regulations enforced and perpetuated it. This 
 was especially necessary under the system of matriarchy, 
 in which various systems were invented to trace relation- 
 ship. The most interesting of these was that found by 
 Lloyd Morgan among some North American Indians, 
 and is called the classificatory system. Its simplest form 
 was practiced among the Maoris and Micronesians, and 
 consists in dividing all persons related by hlood into five 
 groups. "The first is formed of myself and my brothers, 
 sisters and cousins; we all bear the same name, which 
 is that of the whole group. The second group is formed 
 of my father and mother with their brothers and sisters, 
 as well as their cousins, all likewise bearing the same 
 name; the third group comprises my grandparents with 
 their brothers, sisters, etc., the fourth, the cousins of my 
 children, whom I consider as my sons and daughters; 
 lastly, the fifth group is composed of the grandchildren 
 of my brothers and sisters, whom I consider as my grand- 
 children."^ Marriages are generally forbidden within 
 these groups. The usual way of distinguishing the for- 
 bidden degrees of marriages was by plant or animal 
 
 1 S. J. Deniker, The Kaces of Man, pp. 234 and 235. 
 
54 CHAPTER III 
 
 names, as oak, bear, wolf, deer ; no two people bearing the 
 same clan name, e. g., wolf, were allowed to marry. 
 Since most tribes were composed of two or more clans, 
 we frequently have endogamy in the tribe, and exogamy 
 in the clan. This system is very successful in prevent- 
 ing inbreeding; since, if there are four clans in the tribe. 
 A, B, C, D, the children sprung from the parents of 
 clans A and B may not intermarry, because they might 
 marry first cousins; they must marry into clan C, the 
 members of which usually marry into clan D, who in 
 turn contract marriages into clans A or B. Thus there 
 is only the remote possibility of a great-grandfather 
 marrying a great-granddaughter. It would be practically 
 out of the question, especially since there are other rules 
 that intervene, and since life among nature peoples is 
 short. 
 
 In civilized societies the forbidden bonds are frequently 
 . less strict ; marriages between cousins, for instance, have 
 been n6t only tolerated but distinctly encouraged for state 
 and family reasons, notwithstanding the discouragement 
 ' of the Church, which penalized such marriages with 
 a money fine or in other ways. 
 
 Transition from genetic to telic development. — The 
 
 , changes from genetic development to telic progress in 
 
 the family are along three lines. There are first of all 
 
 higher moral values; second, emotional refinements, and 
 
 . third, greater intellectual breadth and depth. The changes 
 
 along the three lines are fairly well marked. 
 
 Moral values. — The moral values may be found 
 chiefly in the higher estimation placed upon human life 
 and dignity. Life is valued very lightly in the earlier 
 forms of the family. It is a notorious fact that exposure 
 of children and of the aged occurs frequently in lower 
 
THE MORALIZATION OF THE FAMILY 55 
 
 civilizations. The reasons may be economic, religious or 
 political, but the fact remains. A community which has 
 a constant and severe struggle in providing the bare 
 necessaries of Hfe, must reduce the number of consumers 
 to that of possible producers. If it is, moreover, con- 
 tinually harrassed by human and animal enemies, and is 
 more or less occupied in seeking new abodes for the 
 sake of safety — often by precipitate flight — it muSt con- 
 fine its attention to those who are able to take care of 
 themselves. This means that old people and young chil- 
 dren have no place in the scheme of primitive societies. 
 Owing to the absence of scientific knowledge of the 
 causes of human vicissitudes, false religions invented 
 spurious reasons for them, and religion claimed an addi- 
 tional toll of human lives in the form of sacrifices for con- 
 ciliating angry deities. Populations were thus constantly 
 kept at low figures. 
 
 Applied to the family these conditions mean that 
 under a system of temporary pairing, children received 
 scant attention from their parents, and were abandoned in 
 flight or in times of scarcity. Since sexual attraction was 
 generally the only bond between the parents., but little 
 heed was paid to anything else. In the polyandric family 
 the father could not be ascertained, and there was no 
 special reason why any one man should exert himself 
 specially for the sake of children; the latter received 
 thus the care of the mother only, and she was often 
 scantily supplied with food, since this form of the family 
 prevails, as already stated, in poor countries and among 
 unwarlike populations, where neither nature nor booty 
 could be depended upon for ample supplies. In the poly- 
 gynic family the father was in many cases too much occu- 
 pied in settling the contentions between the different 
 
56 CHAPTER III 
 
 wives, and he had too many children to give close atten- 
 tion to any one individually. Even in advanced societies, 
 e. g., those of Mohametan states, we read of "favorite" 
 children who are better cared for, often at the expense of 
 the others. The result is that the best and noblest efforts 
 of the parents are not united in the rearing of children. 
 Life as such, or as a potential social power, is not 
 valued. 
 
 The monogamic family alone unites all the advantages 
 without the drawbacks of the family. The law of the 
 family, especially of the monogamic, is that there shall be 
 most aid where there is least merit, while the law of the 
 state is that reward shall be according to merit. The 
 children receive, consequently, the greatest possible care 
 from both parents, not only for a few years, but until 
 they are able to provide for themselves properly. Infancy 
 has been gradually lengthened among civilized nations 
 until the period of legal majority is reached. In the case 
 of those who are to enter the higher professions, requir- 
 ing a college and university training, the period of prep- 
 aration and dependence on parents frequently extends to 
 a later age. Physicians and lawyers often do not become 
 self-supporting until the age of twenty-five, if they take 
 all the work required by our best institutions. 
 
 Saving of lives. — This continued and concentrated 
 care has resulted in a diminution of' waste in human lives. 
 The mortality of children has been reduced enormously. 
 And while this care for children has reduced waste of life 
 at the beginning, it has equally tended to save it at the 
 end. Among the highest animals, death comes usually 
 after the power of propagation is exhausted; and even 
 among nature peoples this period is rarely survived — 
 death coming either as the result of neglect, or being de- 
 
THE MORALIZATION OF THE FAMILY 57 
 
 liberately inflicted by the children of relatives as a pious 
 duty. The solicitous care bestowed upon children in the 
 monogamic family has resulted in the protection of the 
 parents during their declining years by the children. Fre- 
 quently the best years of life are those enjoyed by older 
 people, surrounded by the loving care of children, and re- 
 living in their grandchildren their own childhood in a 
 comfortable home. By saving it at both ends and applying 
 the law of need instead of that of merit, the monogamic 
 family has extended average life within the last four cen- 
 turies from twenty-five years — and perhaps only fifteen 
 a few thousand years ago — to over forty at present in the 
 most civilized countries. 
 
 Dignity and monogamy. — With the lengthening of 
 life came an increase in dignity. In every one of the forms 
 of the family preceding the monogamic, the valuation of 
 husband and wife is chiefly sexual. In temporary pairing 
 this is evident ; the two are chiefly mates, and part when 
 satisfaction in this hne is no longer to be had. In poly- 
 andry and polygyny a similar condition exists. Where 
 there are several husbands to one wife, she may, and 
 often does, play one against another to get satisfactions 
 in other respects. Her sex becomes a direct and her 
 husbands an indirect means to ulterior ends. In poly- 
 gyny the use of wives as means to sexual satisfaction is 
 evident; they are increased in number for that purpose, 
 one favorite is substituted for another, and large sums 
 are paid for especially attractive ones. Other qualities 
 of the woman play a comparatively small role — except 
 ability to endure drudgery among very poor peoples 
 where sometimes several are married for the purpose of 
 supporting the husband in idleness. 
 
 The use of a human being as a means to an end, has. 
 
58 CHAPTER III 
 
 however, always revenged itself in some way upon those 
 engaging in this dangerous policy. It may not be scien- 
 tific to introduce ethics into a sociological discussion, but 
 where morality or immorality are facts of the situation, 
 they must necessarily be taken into consideration. For 
 some reason the growth of man has been associated with 
 the form of the family and has been dependent upon it. 
 The monogamic family may be the survivor of the fittest 
 from a biological point of view. If the care of children 
 is taken as the criterion, it is certainly better suited to 
 the preservation of the race. Omitting transcendental 
 considerations, we may look upon morality as a develop- 
 ment of what has proven useful to society; if so. it is 
 entirely proper to say, that whatever utility other forms 
 of the family had under certain historical and social 
 conditions, this was never of the highest order and had 
 to be supplanted by something higher. Higher utility 
 always involves a higher mental development and cor- 
 respondingly finer perceptions. It means, in other words, 
 growth of man. Looking at the matter from this point 
 of view, it may perhaps be easy to see why the highest 
 type of man and woman has developed only under a 
 system of monogamy. It is to England and not to 
 Turkey, to America and not to Asia, to Kansas and not to 
 Utah, to Brook Farm and not to Oneida, to Christianity 
 and not to Mohametanism that one looks for the leaders 
 of the world. A few further remaiks concerning the 
 monogamous family will bring out this mpral aspect 
 of the family more clearly. 
 
 Definition of the family. — The family may be defined 
 as a union of two individuals of opposite sex, of suitable 
 age, of proper physical, mental and moral equipment, 
 for the purpose of living together under the sanction of 
 
THE MORALIZATION OF THE FAMILY 59 
 
 society in reciprocal love and service with a view of pro- 
 pagating and educating children. 
 
 It is in a family of this kind that the individual finds 
 his completion, because he enters into as close a union 
 with another individual as possible without giving up 
 his individuality. The statement of Hegel that "self- 
 consciousness finds satisfaction only in another self- 
 consciousness," finds its most complete and suitable 
 application here. In the true family the interests of the 
 two parties are not merely sexual and economic, but 
 general. Surrender there must be; but it is mutual and 
 extends over the whole realm of interests; and as each 
 party is respectively both means and end, there is no 
 immorality involved in it. A man or a woman may 
 in some particular respect, e. g., in vocational matters, 
 find greater profit in association with those outside the 
 family. This is, however, always a particular aspect 
 of personality. The family alone can supply complements 
 to one's individuality from every point of view. Thus 
 the dignity of each party never suffers, but is raised to 
 a higher plane through the give-and-take of married life. 
 
 Refinement of the emotions. — The monogamous fam- 
 ily refines the emotions. There is a longer emotional dis- 
 tance between the proverbial cave man who courts with 
 a club and a Dante to whom Beatrice became an inspira- 
 tion for life, than there is in a financial way between 
 the beggar and the millionaire. The beggar might pos- 
 sibly become wealthy, since wealth is only an external 
 condition; but the crude feelings of the cave man can 
 never become the highly refined, complex, and infinitely 
 delicate emotions of the lover of Beatrice. The one 
 change takes only a life time, the other requires 
 thousands of generations of constant mental exertion and 
 
60 CHAPTER III 
 
 variation. This highly complex emotional condition 
 has been termed romantic love, and is supposed to have 
 originated during the age of chivalry. It has been 
 described in infinite variations and has formed the topic 
 for numerous discussions. Its essence, however, is always 
 the same, and comparatively easy to point out. It means 
 a valuation of the whole personality and an endeavor to 
 expand and deepen it through service. Just what par- 
 ticular form that service may take depends on circum- 
 stances. The medieval knight served by protecting the 
 life and the innocence of ladies and of women ; the mod- 
 ern man may serve by enabling his wife to get a college 
 education and have her become perhaps, a writer. There 
 is sex in this love, and normally it issues in matrimony; 
 but that is not the only motive, nor even the dominant 
 one. In every case it means a subtle delicacy not to 
 interfere with the integrity and self-respect of the other 
 party. 
 
 An emotional attitude of that kind can exist only be- 
 tween two individuals, since its preciousness consists in 
 its exclusiveness. The only other possible factors are 
 children who further refine and extend that love. Civil- 
 ized parenthood adds new qualities to the emotional 
 nature, not only by way of increasing the number of feel- 
 ings — which is undoubtedly the case even among animals 
 — but by eliciting a great variety of emotions, e. g., 
 joy and anxiety, happiness and solicitude, in the process 
 of education. Animal parenthood ends with or ceases 
 soon after giving life; among higher human beings it 
 extends over the whole of life. The love, kindness, sym- 
 pathy, forbearance, and often the tact, manifested in 
 modern society, are almost exclusively the products of the 
 monogamic family. 
 
THE MORALIZATION OF THE FAMILY 61 
 
 Intellectual breadth and depth. — The monogamic 
 family, finally, deepens and broadens intellectual life. 
 Savage man lives, as we have seen, in the present only, 
 in the family as well as in his other relationships. He 
 wants present satisfactions, and may get them in any 
 one of the pre-monogamic forms of the family. Monog- 
 amy in which each individual has high respect for 
 every other, endeavors to prepare for a life-time of 
 satisfactions. The male begins to lay the foundations 
 for the home, however humble it may be. Among the 
 Zuni Indians the young man must give proof that he has 
 cultivated a hitherto unoccupied piece of land for the 
 support of a family. This is a typical illustration of what 
 happens among all monogamous peoples. Where parent- 
 hood is uncertain, children are cared for by the clan 
 or the family group; where it is known, the father 
 and mother must provide for them. There follows an 
 increase in responsibility, which implies added dignity 
 and exertion. Both promote the development of the 
 intellect, and it is not surprising that monogamous na- 
 tions are to-day and have always been the richest, since 
 parents have always had to shoulder personal responsi- 
 bility for their families with its correlates of thrift, in- 
 dustry, and foresight. 
 
 Lateral view of life. — The pre-monogamic man, 
 never knowing definitely who his ancestors are or who his 
 descendants will be, has his mental eye necessarily fast- 
 ened to the present. His mental outlook is lateral, since 
 he is surrounded by blood relations of all degrees, for 
 whom he bears a joint responsibility with many others. 
 When there are too many to take care of, he naturally 
 becomes discouraged and does only what is unavoidably 
 necessary for them. Hence the general lack of thrift 
 and industry among these peoples. 
 
62 CHAPTER III 
 
 Longitudinal view of life. — The monogamic man 
 and wife, with their definite knowledge of ancestry and 
 interest in posterity, take a longitudinal view of life. 
 There is a long line of ancestors to whom they owe 
 allegiance, loyalty and reverence. They expect a similar 
 treatment from their own children and distant descend- 
 ants. This directs their mind toward the past and the 
 future, and the present becomes merely a means to pre- 
 pare for the well-being of future generations. Their 
 whole mental attitude is different. The present loses all 
 significance as such. It is merely the opportunity for 
 sowing seeds to bear fruit in the distant future. All 
 patriarchal monogamous families have this characteristic ; 
 hence the almost feverish industry and intelligent fore- 
 sight by which they are characterized. The Chinese fam- 
 ily is a typical illustration. 
 
 Immortality and monogamy. — It is perhaps signifi- 
 cant that the monogamic nations — ^the Greeks, the 
 Romans, chiefly the Hebrews — were the first to develop 
 a fairly clear conception of immortality. Where intelli- 
 gence has been constantly sharpened for generations by 
 personal responsibility, and where the mental outlook has 
 been almost exclusively backward and forward, it is not 
 difficult to imagine that questions concerning the value 
 of individual life must have arisen. Why all this haste 
 and all this pother? If my ancestors are no longer alive 
 in some bodily form, why should I deprive myself of 
 food in order to pacify them? If my children are to 
 live only a scant score of years or even the proverbial 
 four score with their sorrow and labor, why should 
 I fret and toil to amass treasures which moth and rust 
 may corrupt? The whole attitude of the monogamous 
 family was against answering these questions in the 
 negative. 
 
THE MORALIZATION OF THE FAMILY 63 
 
 There was first of all the value of one's own indi- 
 viduality, which a man with a personal responsibility 
 always feels. There was, furthermore, the love and rev- 
 erence for one's parents, who could not be imagined dead 
 in the sense of non-existence. There was, finally, the 
 love and happiness in one's own children whom it was 
 difficult to consider merely the sportive offspring of 
 time. Whichever way monogamous man looked, values 
 created for permanence were confronting him. It was 
 not a leap of the imagination, but a logical conclusion on 
 the basis of his whole life, that he himself must be im- 
 perishable in some form or other. It may be going too 
 far to say that he believed in eternity; only a few intel- 
 lects of the highest type are able to imagine that idea. 
 But he got the conception of the permanence of his own 
 person, and that had an important bearing on his whole 
 life. ^ 
 
 Permanence of society. — It meant not only perma- 
 nence for the family and himself, but for society. The 
 whole social structure took a different aspect. It was no 
 longer, like primitive society, a struggle for present 
 existence; it became a means for sharpening intelligence 
 to secure and enlarge the future. The social institutions 
 of the Hebrews with their return of the land in the 
 Jubilee year to the original owners, and the building of 
 permanent roads by the Romans to secure and hold the 
 future — ^have this significance. The process was telic. 
 From individual telesis, as he understood it, man turned 
 to social telesis. Hence, again, the better treatment of 
 subjugated nations by the Romans than was ever ac- 
 corded before. The social telic attitude had its roots in 
 the family. 
 
 The telic attitude of the modern family as based 
 
64 CHAPTER III 
 
 on romantic love may be illustrated with the Hindoo story 
 of Nala and Damayanti. The princess in that story 
 has in her heart chosen a lover, but she does not know 
 who he is, having seen him only once by accident. Ac- 
 cording to the privilege of her rank she is entitled to 
 choose one from amongst the suitors presenting them- 
 selves on a solemn occasion. Four of the gods, to please 
 their high caprice and to make her choice impossible, 
 assume precisely the real lover's guise and seeming. The 
 princess finds then before her five men, all absolutely 
 alike. In her perplexity she wonders a brief moment; 
 but then, perceiving the heavenly wiles, lifts her voice 
 in humble prayer that those of the group who are not 
 true suitors, may be pleased to behave a little more like 
 gods and make her choice easier. The gods relent and 
 obey, and the princess makes her choice instantly. 
 
 In true love there is purpose — to be satisfied only with 
 one particular individual, to wait until he or she appears, 
 to serve loyally all through life, because it is the whole 
 personality that is loved, not some particular quality. 
 Such love founds a monogamic family, lasts through life, 
 rears children, and becomes through its telic attitude the 
 best social asset. It makes a thoroughly moralized 
 family. 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 THE INCREASING IMPORTANCE OF EUGENICS 
 
 Need for leaders. — Reference was made at the end 
 of the second chapter to the necessity for leaders in 
 telic development, and a brief discussion has just been 
 given of the moralization of the family. Both topics 
 are introductory to Eugenics. If the development of 
 society depends largely on leaders, the question naturally 
 arises, how are they to be produced? The answer is, 
 by eugenic marriages. Not, however, marriages only, 
 but life long unions in a moralized family on the monog- 
 amic order. Leadership depends not only on native 
 talent, but on its development. It is not merely a ques- 
 tion of intellectual ability, but of volitional and emo- 
 tional endowment as well. In a leader the qualitiei. 
 of patience, endurance, and foresight are as important 
 as keenness of introspection and power of generalization 
 and they are normally best developed in the family. 
 
 Definition of eugenics. — Galton's definition of eu- 
 genics is still unexcelled. It is "the science which deals 
 with all influences that improve the inborn qualities of 
 a race ; also with those that develop them to the utmost 
 extent." The "father'' of eugenics was not iconoclastic ; 
 he realized that a proper environment was important for 
 the development of inborn qualities, and he gave it due 
 consideration, although laying the stress on native en- 
 dowment. Professor Walter in his book on Genetics 
 speaks of the triangle of life: heritage, the base line, 
 is what we are and will be; environment, is what we 
 have, housing, food, friends, in short, the world into 
 
 65 
 
66 CHAPTER IV 
 
 which we are bom ; training, means what we do through 
 the development of our innate endowment.^ The rela- 
 tion of the three is important. 
 
 Heredity and environment. — Environment may be 
 favorable or unfavorable. It is a great advantage to a 
 child to be born in a family where good habits are main- 
 tained, where the mother tongue is spoken correctly, 
 where manners are gentle, and conversation ennobling. 
 A well fed, suitably clothed, and properly housed child 
 is able to lay up a stock of vitality which other things 
 being equal, the off-spring of a less favored family is 
 not likely to secure. And so with training. Regular attend- 
 ance at school, frequent travel, and visits to art museums, 
 confer an inestimable benefit upon a child. If the train- 
 ing continues through college and professional school 
 at the expense of the parents, these favorable conditions 
 are likely to result in a better preparation for life than 
 in the case of the young man who has to snatch his edu- 
 cation between periods of work. Many a young man of 
 promise has had too heavy a load to carry in making a 
 living while at college, and has broken down prema- 
 turely. The community loses many valuable individuals 
 in this way every year. 
 
 Making due allowance for all this, it is still true that 
 there is a difference between the well-endowed child 
 and the one with a less favorable heritage. It is the 
 difference between capacity and acquisition. A less gifted 
 child may acquire more knowledge, owing to better en- 
 vironment and training, but will never be more capable 
 than one with a larger heritage. Heredity is the result 
 of innumerable factors working in thousands of ances- 
 tors, while favorable environment may be the result of 
 
 1 Genetics, by Herbert E. Walter, Macmillan Company, 1913; p. 2. 
 
THE INCREASING IMPORTANCE OP EUGENICS 67 
 
 chance, e. g., a good investment at the suggestion of a 
 friend. Heredity is the linkage of cells, the bond of 
 connection between generations; it moves forward, not 
 backward; its series is irreversible. That implies a slow 
 accumulation of capacity. The question whether we are 
 more intelligent than, for instance, the Greeks, depends 
 on the meaning of "intelligent." Does it mean acquisi- 
 tion, or capacity? If we mean acquisition, the answer 
 must unquestionably be in the affirmative. There is more 
 knowledge now than in the best days of Athens. Our 
 own generation has added vast stores to the knowledge 
 it received. Concerning capacity the question is hardly 
 fair, since 2,500 years is too short a time to measure 
 any appreciable increase. A longer period, such as 
 elapsed between the cave man and the present, is the 
 only true test. Here the answer must be in the affirmative. 
 even in regard to capacity. Progress has been marked 
 in this respect, as the comparison between the skull of 
 the Neanderthal man and that of a civilized man proves 
 conclusively. Training can only develop capacity which 
 exists, it cannot create it. There are indications in school, 
 in business, and in every sphere of life which show that 
 certain men cannot be developed beyond a certain point. 
 This statement is not a denial that capacity may be 
 widely distributed. Observation and investigation both 
 show that high ability may exist where it is least ex- 
 pected, and waits only for the magic touch of oppor- 
 tunity to develop and produce wonderful achievements. 
 Our own country with its many "self-made" men proves 
 beyond question that many men born in very humble 
 circumstances may by virtue of their innate talent not 
 only aspire to but attain the highest positions in the pro- 
 fessions as well as in business and politics. It is one of 
 
68 CHAPTER IV 
 
 the most important functions of society to provide means 
 and measures in order to give every capable child an 
 opportunity to develop, and avoid the loss of much valu- 
 able time and energy on the part of such an individual 
 in getting an education. This necessity, however, merely 
 emphasizes from a new point of view the essential im- 
 portance of producing capacity. 
 
 Meaning of capacity. — ^What is capacity? Which 
 qualities are desirable from the social point of view? 
 There can be no agreement as to the desirability of any 
 one particular type, because a variety of talents is neces- 
 sary. Even if men were all estimable, but along one 
 specific line, the result would not be good. Marcus 
 Aurelius was an admirable person in many ways; so 
 was Adam Bede along others. Life would, however, 
 be pretty dull, and the world almost entirely unprogres- 
 sive, if every human being was modeled after one or 
 the other of these entirely worthy individuals. Richness 
 of life is possible only through variety, and fullness only 
 by having it viewed from many angles. The demand 
 is, consequently, for perfection along some special line. 
 The artist is esteemed for his art, not for his ability to 
 drive a sharp bargain for his painting; the soldier for 
 his courage, not for his ability to influence legislation by 
 his vote. Only in proportion as each has mastered a 
 particular field is he able to contribute something to the 
 welfare of society. No method has been discovered, how- 
 ever, for producing individuals with specific gifts ; hence 
 recourse must be taken to general qualities. What are 
 these ? 
 
 It is general balance of character ; a proportion of the 
 different qualities so as to make a well rounded whole. 
 Such qualities are health, vigor, and resistance to disease. 
 
THE INCREASING IMPORTANCE OF EUGENICS 69 
 
 from the physical point of view; ability, consistency of 
 purpose, circumspection, and resourcefulness from the 
 mental; good-will, sympathy, and helpfulness from the 
 moral. These qualities, if properly blended, will pro- 
 duce a high average, and nature has to be trusted to 
 produce specific qualities, e. g., keen analytic power, 
 philosophical insight, scientific acumen, and artistic tal- 
 ent, by variation. Nature has infinite possibilities of 
 combination, and there is no danger of any two men 
 being created alike. The aualities mentioned form the 
 basis of any high achievement, and their combination 
 with different amounts of each furnishes ample oppor- 
 tunity for generating specific talent. A high average 
 level is the only object eugenists may strive for, and it 
 is sufficient, since the higher the level the greater the 
 probability of favorable variations. 
 
 The attempt to produce specific talent has thus far 
 proved futile. Galton has tried to show the heredita- 
 bility of specific genius, by referring to various classes, 
 e. g., judges, painters, musicians, artists, naval and mili- 
 tary leaders; but all he succeeded in proving was 
 that the general capacity of these various talented indi- 
 viduals was inherited. The reference to the success of 
 aiming at specific points in plant and animal breeding, 
 is entirely beside the point, because physical qualities 
 only are sought in all these cases — more beef in the ox, 
 more milk in the cow, longer wool in the sheep, greater 
 speed in the race horse, a longer body and shorter legs in 
 the dachshund. Mental qualities are entirely disregarded. 
 Our estimate concerning a steak is whether it is tender 
 and juicy, not whether the ox was intelligent and affec- 
 tionate. With human beings it is the reverse. While 
 pleasant physical appearance adds to the attractiveness 
 
70 CHAPTER IV 
 
 of a person, we choose our presidents, our governors and 
 judges for general and special knowledge on the basis of 
 high ability. Breeding for physical qualities is a branch 
 of biology, and requires specific training, which does not 
 concern us here. This form of eugenics is on a safe 
 basis, because it can resort to experiments of various 
 kinds, e. g., inbreeding and outbreeding, mating for long 
 or short and white or black hair, etc.; and it deals with 
 demonstrably hereditable and specific characteristics. 
 
 Democracy needs leaders. — The question ai'ises, If 
 nature alone can produce the favorable variants, why 
 trouble about eugenics? Are not the nations of to-day 
 becoming increasingly democratic? Two answers may 
 be given. 
 
 Democracy means equality of opportunity, not of 
 ability. By no stretch of the imagination can it ever 
 be interpreted as implying the same capacity in all men. 
 The facts, as everyone may observe them for himself, 
 are too obvious to require proof. Every teacher, officer, 
 employer, and even parents among their own children, 
 see differences in the mentality of those with whom 
 they come in contact. No amount of exertion on the 
 part of the parents, for instance, can bring about an 
 equalization among their children. With the same care, 
 love, solicitude, and education offered to each, there are 
 differences in capacity which cannot be eradicated. 
 Democracy is no substitute for eugenics. 
 
 We may go even further and say that a democracy 
 is more in need of eugenics than an absolute monarchy. 
 In the latter the masses are forced to do the ruler's bid- 
 ding. In a democracy the people have to decide for them- 
 selves, and that requires higher ability. Only a man 
 of considerable intelligence is capable of passing a fairly 
 
THE INCREASING IMPORTANCE OF EUGENICS 71 
 
 just decision on the numerous questions which arise in 
 a community. Hence democracies are proverbially solic- 
 itous atout education. But because government exists 
 with the consent of the governed, they must be persuaded 
 and convinced; and this requires not only more intelli- 
 gence on their part, but greater need for really capable 
 leaders. In a firmly established monarchy, a compara- 
 tively insignificant man may make a fairly succsesful 
 leader because he has to exercise only a little common 
 sense, so as not to commit any excesses ; the bureaucracy, 
 always consisting of punctilious and mediocre men, will 
 attend to the routine work. It is an almost continuous 
 occurrence in history, that mediocre men have made bet- 
 ter rulers than capable ones, because the latter were 
 almost invariably ambitious and strove for personal ag- 
 grandizement, which meant the slaughter of the people 
 in wars and by forced labor. In democracies, on the 
 other hand, where the people have to be consulted, the 
 leaders must be of much greater calibre. They must 
 persuade and argue, they must give evidence in many 
 ways that their plans are for the benefit of all. From 
 this point of view the history of Switzerland is much 
 more profitable reading than that of Prussia, although 
 it is much less spectacular. A democracy, then, because 
 it requires a higher level of intelligence in the masses, 
 and greater ability in its leaders, must needs employ 
 eugenics. 
 
 The other reason why the increasing tendency toward 
 democracy calls more urgently for eugenics, is the greater 
 complexity of civilization. While specialization is one 
 of the dominant notes in modern life, and specialized 
 talent is apparently demanded to an even greater extent, 
 general leadership is required still more urgently. Even 
 
72 CHAPTER IV 
 
 in the 15th century, the threads of government were com- 
 paratively few ; industry could be managed by any man 
 of common sense, since it was on a small scale and for 
 a local market ; learning consisted in the mastery of com- 
 paratively few books, and was not haunted by the demand 
 for originality; generalship was confined to personal 
 bravery and to the favorable disposition of a few thou- 
 sand men. As late as the beginning of the 19th century, it 
 was possible for Goethe to be master in almost every 
 field of scholarly and practical pursuits; he was, as a 
 matter of fact, a distinguished poet and dramatist, a 
 scientist of originality, a notable painter, an able theatre 
 manager, and the foreign and home secretary of the 
 duchy of Saxe-Weimar — all this not successively but 
 simultaneously. This was possible, because the social 
 conditions were comparatively simple. 
 
 To-day the ramifications in politics, business, scholar- 
 ship, and every other aspect of society are so numerous, 
 that only a specialist can master any one of them. This 
 means the need for special talent. But it implies an 
 urgent demand for a general talent of leadership, if 
 our civilization is not to go to pieces by breaking up 
 into too great a number of specialties. The man of com- 
 prehensive talent, lacking perhaps detailed knowledge 
 in any one fi^ld, is imperatively needed to-day. The 
 correlation of the many aspects of life, which seem to 
 elude our grasp and understanding, is more essential now 
 than ever. In the business world the entrepreneur has 
 arisen in answer to the increasingly more complex con- 
 ditions under which the production and distribution of 
 goods is carried on. In the realm of knowledge, there 
 is the talent, like that of Spencer, which combines philo- 
 sophical insight with scientific accuracy. In the domain 
 
THE INCREASING IMPORTANCE OF EUGENICS 11 
 
 of government, the statesman of yesterday cannot serve 
 as a teacher for the one of to-day, because the condi- 
 tions are fundamentally different. The object of diplo- 
 macy then was the aggrandizement of a nation or of a 
 ruler; now it is justice and welfare for humanity. In 
 religion, a capable sectarian leader was required who 
 would establish and uphold denominational teachings 
 against all enemies; now a man is sought who can in- 
 terpret the importance of things spiritual to a world 
 which is inclined to pay but little attention to them. 
 Everywhere, men of greater calibre are in demand as 
 leaders. 
 
 Value of talent. — The greater intelligence of the 
 masses of to-day does not solve the problem of leader- 
 ship; their ability has grown only proportionately to 
 their greater tasks. And that not always, as is shown 
 by the failure of the numerous experiments in democ- 
 racy. Without properly qualified leaders the masses are 
 unable to construct ; and to destroy is still their favorite 
 pastime when opportunity offers. The problem of the 
 relative importance of the leaders and the masses may 
 be illustrated in this way. The most valuable product 
 of any country consists in its babies. Perhaps 50,000,- 
 000 are born in the world every year. It would be diffi- 
 cult to find out what happens to all of them, but we 
 have some idea what takes place in our own country 
 where about 2,500,000 are born annually. Very few 
 of them develop great talents. Says a writer on eu- 
 genics •} 
 
 "Nearly half a million of these infants die before they 
 attain the age of one year, and half of all are dead before 
 
 1 C. B. Davenport, Heredity in Relation to Eugenics, Holt & Co., 
 New York, 1911, pp. 3 and 4. 
 
74 CHAPTER IV 
 
 they reach their twenty-third year — ^before they have, 
 had much chance to affect the world one way or another. 
 However, were only one and a quarter million of the 
 children born each year in the United States destined 
 to play an important part for the nation and humanity 
 we could look with equanimity on the result. But alas! 
 only a small part of this army will be effective in render- 
 ing productive our three million square miles of terri- 
 tory, in otherwise utilizing the unparalleled natural re- 
 sources of the country, and in forming a united, God- 
 serving, law-abiding, effective and productive nation, 
 leading the remaining 93 per cent of the globe's popula- 
 tion to higher ideals. On the contrary, of the 1,200,000 
 who reach full maturity each year 40,000 will be inef- 
 fective through temporary sickness, and 4,000 to 5,000 
 will be segregated in the care of the institutions, un- 
 known thousands will be kept in poverty through mental 
 deficiency, other thousands will be the cause of social 
 disorder, and still other thousands will be required to 
 tend and control the weak and unruly. We may esti- 
 mate at not far from 100.000, or 8 per cent, the number 
 of the non-productive or only slightly productive, and 
 probably this proportion would hold for the 600,000 males 
 considered by themselves. The great mass of the yearly 
 increment. 550.000 males, constitute a body of solid, in- 
 telligent workers of one sort and another, engaged in 
 occupations that require, in the different cases, various 
 degrees of intelligence but are none the less valuable in 
 the progress of humanity. Of course, in these gainful 
 occupations the men are assisted by a large number of 
 their sisters, but four-fifths of the women are still en- 
 gaged in the no less useful work of home-making. The 
 ineffectiveness of 6 to 8 per cent of the males and the 
 
THE INCREASING IMPORTANCE OF EUGENICS 75 
 
 probable slow tendency of this proportion to increase 
 is deserving of serious attention." 
 
 Of the value of talent another writer says :^ 
 "Men of genius have exercised a powerful influence 
 in the world since history began. Yet they are still more 
 or less an enigma even to themselves. As chiefs and 
 warriors among savage tribes, as men of letters, art, 
 or science, statesmen or military commanders in civilized 
 communities, they win the admiration of their fellows 
 without furnishing in their own lives any conclusive indi- 
 cation of the means by which their success is achieved. 
 They strike out a path for themselves, and seem to owe 
 little or nothing to help or example. Genius has never 
 been the monopoly of any class or system. It is as likely 
 to manifest itself in the peasant as in the peer, and, 
 indeed, in any list that might be drawn up of the great 
 men of the world, examples would be found of intel- 
 lectual capacity asserting itself in all conditions of life, 
 and quite independently of the much vaunted advantages 
 of education." 
 
 Whether the genius is absolutely unrelated to his en- 
 vironment, as Nisbet claims, may be doubted, since there 
 are too many well authenticated historical and biograph- 
 ical cases showing heredity and the improvement of 
 capacity to be dependent on favorable environment. On 
 the other hand, it would be idle to maintain that a fav- 
 orable environment makes the genius. Even if it be 
 admitted that the genius utilizes highly potential sur- 
 roundings, it is still true that he possesses this capacity 
 to a greater extent than his less gifted fellows for whom, 
 objectively considered, the conditions are the same. He 
 
 1 F. J. Nisbet, Insanity of Genius, Scribners, New York, 1912; 
 preface, '^. 1. 
 
76 CHAPTER IV 
 
 may be merely the accentuation to a high degree of racial 
 or family qualities, but that very accentuation makes him 
 a person of greater potency. To illustrate crudely : Two 
 pound steam may do considerable and useful work, but 
 not nearly as much as ten pound steam; the engine for 
 the low and high pressure machine is not the same, just 
 as the brain of the genius is more complex than that of 
 the average man. 
 
 The question, why not leave the production of the 
 man of talent to nature, still needs to be answered. She 
 has produced men of high calibre in the past, and we 
 may trust her to have a sufficent number of favorable 
 variants among the 2,500,000 babies born each year 
 in the United States. Yes, but nature does not take ac- 
 count of our civilization, which is artificial in the sense 
 that it is a creation of man's mind and not of his body. 
 She may still produce a normal share of talented men 
 just as her processes result in a very large number of 
 failures. In the past the failures were eliminated by 
 the very natural process of the struggle for existence. 
 To-day, these subnormal individuals are kept alive by 
 civilization, and the number of capable individuals, 
 normally produced by nature, is no longer sufficient to 
 meet the complex problems of modern times. No sane 
 person can look at the 200,000 paupers and prisoners 
 and 250,000 insane in our country with equanimity, es- 
 pecially when he finds that they are breeding faster than 
 the thrifty and prudent part of the population."^ We 
 need more super-normal and fewer sub-normal persons. 
 The matter cannot be left to nature, just because we 
 have not left our civilization to her. There must be 
 
 1 While the actual number of prisoners and juvenile delinquents in 
 the United States was only 136,472 on January 1, 1910, the total number 
 committed during that year was 493,934. 
 
THE INCREASING IMPORTANCE OF EUGENICS 77 
 
 both positive and negative eugenics, if we are not to 
 relapse into barbarism. 
 
 From the positive point of view but httle can be said 
 at present; because the laws of heredity are not sufiS- 
 ciently known in their details to give definite advice. 
 Some things are, however, beyond doubt. There are 
 two ways of improving human conditions, by improving 
 the individual and by improving the race. 
 
 Euthenics. — In the first case an attempt it made to 
 improve existing favorable qualities in all individuals in 
 every way possible, especially through education. This 
 is called euthenics, or the science of learning how to 
 develop innate qualities by improving the environment. 
 The measures which may be taken along this line are 
 partly economic, and partly educational. It has been 
 shown repeatedly by investigations made in Europe as 
 well as in America that poor food, over-crowding in 
 apartments, over-work, lack of sanitation, dangerous oc- 
 cupations, lack of personal hygiene, and bad moral 
 habits, are injurious to the individual, not only in weak- 
 ening his physical powers but in preventing his mental 
 development. Many are the proposals made for remedy- 
 ing these conditions, and legions of agencies are at work 
 to grapple with every diiificulty. Great improvements 
 have already been achieved, and many valuable lives 
 have been rescued either from despair or degradation, 
 and some talented people have been saved for the benefit 
 of society. It is not necessary to enter into a discussion 
 of this matter. 
 
 Eugenics.-^The other method is by improving the 
 race, and is called eugenics. The first task in connection 
 with eugenics is education. The importance of good 
 blood must be taught to the people, and this cannot be 
 
78 CHAPTER IV 
 
 done unless the interest of the people is aroused and the 
 imagination quickened. The Eugenics Record Office at 
 Cold Spring Harbor on Long Island, and the Journal 
 of Heredity, Washington, D. C, are the only institutions, 
 apart from classes in eugenics given in some universities, 
 which deliberately attempt to arouse a scientific interest 
 among the American people. The Galton Laboratory in 
 London serves a similar purpose for the British Em- 
 pire. Unfortunately only a small proportion of the popu- 
 lation is reached by these agencies, although the amount 
 of valuable data they publish is increasing. Occasionally 
 the public press takes an interest in the matter. This 
 is. however, almost always done in the interest of sensa- 
 tional "copy," often poor in quality, and frequently in 
 a flippant, if not deprecatory manner. The novelists 
 still end their romances at the altar or in the magistrate's 
 office, entirely unconcerned with what the offspring is 
 likely to be. Yet, from the point of both individual 
 happiness and national welfare no other single item 
 equals in importance that of eugenic marriages. Ro- 
 mantic and sentimental love is still the dominant note 
 in our novels, although it has perceptibly improved by 
 emphasis on selecting partners accustomed to out-door 
 life. 
 
 Positive measures. — The question whether a com- 
 plete change may be brought about is difficult to answer. 
 Hope may not be given up, however, when the effect of 
 various hygienic and sanitary" measures is noticed — 
 measures which sometimes are taken up with avidity by 
 large classes of the population who were not suspected 
 of being capable of appreciating their value. Love-mak- 
 ing is, after all, a matter subject to popular and conven- 
 tional control. As G. B. Shaw sardonically remarks: 
 
THE INCREASING IMPORTANCE OP EUGENICS 79 
 
 "Fashionable ladies fall in love with acrobats, and have 
 to marry colonels, shop assistants fall in love with count- 
 esses, and are obliged to marry shop girls." Perhaps 
 falling in love with a person beneath or above one's own 
 station is more sentimental than real, and the lady and 
 the shop clerk may be happier with a partner from their 
 own class than with one from an entirely different social 
 environment. It may be hoped that reason and senti- 
 ment will supplant sentimentality in love-making. The 
 enactment of more discriminating marriage laws is the 
 second step which may be taken to further eugenic mar- 
 riages. The State of New York now requires prospec- 
 tive couples to declare whether they are afflicted by any 
 contagious diseases, and this is noted on the marriage 
 certificates. All states prohibit the marriage of people 
 within certain degrees of relationship. This regulation 
 may easily be extended to include all who are eugenically 
 undesirable — idiots, feeble-minded, venereally diseased, 
 insane, epileptics, habitual -drunkards, paupers, and 
 criminals. It should not be difficult to prevent marriage 
 with and between these classes, even though this relation 
 is considered according to Davenport as the climax of 
 human courtship in novels, as the meeting of two lines 
 of property in law, as fixing a certain status in society; 
 marriage should be contracted as an experiment in hu- 
 man breeding and in eugenics. 
 
 It is questionable whether a third remedy proposed is 
 acceptable or not — the subsidising of poor but healthy 
 people to encourage their marriage, and a further sub- 
 sidy for every child. This has been proposed repeatedly 
 — Ben Franklin was perhaps the first — and some re- 
 muneration has been paid in France to poor families with 
 many children. The proposal is likely to lead to abuse. 
 
Sa CHAPTER IV 
 
 especially under political conditions as they exist in our 
 country. It would be well, however, to pay to profes- 
 sional young men, e. g., teachers and army and navy 
 officers who represent a picked class, sufficient salaries 
 to enable them to marry earlier than they generally do. 
 A fourth remedy is likely to prove more beneficial. 
 Healthy couples who already have proved their fitness 
 for parenthood, should be encouraged to have more than 
 one or two children. Public opinion has much to do 
 with this matter. Ordinarily four children should be 
 the rule, since that many are needed merely to maintain 
 the race, if the loss of those dying before adult age and 
 of the naturally childless couples is to be made good. 
 
 Negative measures. — In regard to negative eugenics 
 more is known, and more measures have already been 
 taken. The best medical opinion is now agreed both 
 concerning the necessity of preventing the marriage of 
 the notoriously unfit — mentioned above — and of prevent- 
 ing their illegal propagation by segregation or steriliza- 
 tion. Many of these individuals are at present brought 
 up in institutions and liberated,/ at the very time when 
 the sex impulse is strongest. Lacking a moral sense ow- 
 ing to their mental defects, prohibition to marry would 
 have but little effect upon them. Sterilizing them and 
 then turning them loose in the community might prevent 
 propagation but would undoubtedly spread veneral di- 
 sease. Either total asexualization or segregation is, 
 consequently, the alternative. Segregation has been tried 
 with marked success in one notable case in the city of 
 Aosta and its environment in northern Italy, where as 
 late as 1880 the goiterous cretins — "human beings with 
 less intelligence than a goose, with less decency than a 
 pig" — lined the road as beggars in fair weather, were 
 
THE INCREASING IMPORTANCE OF EUGENICS 81 
 
 allowed by church and state to marry, and were gen- 
 erously supported by misplaced charity while the poor 
 farmer with brains was forced to struggle the best he 
 could under a crushing system of taxation. In 1890 the 
 State finally took up the matter, forced segregation, and 
 by 1910 they had nearly disappeared from the roads. 
 If segregation and sterilization were both resorted to, 
 the problems of crime, insanity, and sickness, would be 
 largely solved within a century. The asylums, prisons, 
 and hospitals would decrease appreciably ; the indigent 
 old. and the hopelessly degenerate would no longer trouble 
 our civilization; above all, the ever present problem of 
 unemployment, caused largely by lack of ordinary mental 
 ability and of vitality, would solve itself. Eight of our 
 States have already passed laws for sterilizing the de- 
 fective classes: Indiana, 1907; Washington, California 
 and Connecticut, 1909; Nevada, Iowa, and New Jersey, 
 1911; New York, 1912. These laws should be supple- 
 mented by one enforcing segregation. 
 
 The measures, positive and negative, proposed, would 
 diminish the dependents, increase that of capable men 
 and women, and might add many leaders. In this connec- 
 tion it may be in place to emphasize that more attention 
 should be given in our schools to exceptional children 
 instead of having them held back with the mediocre and 
 the backward. 
 
 To illustrate once more the importance of leadership, 
 a statement by Henry Drummond is characteristic. When 
 he left Japan after a prolonged stay in 1892 he asked his 
 Japanese friends what message they wished him to take 
 back to England. One of them replied with a courteous 
 smile: "Tell your friends in England and America to 
 send us instead of ten one thousand dollar missionaries, 
 one ten thousand dollar missionary !" 
 
CHAPTER V 
 SIGNIFICANCE OF THE WOMAN'S MOVEMENT 
 
 Leaders from women. — Might we not get a number 
 of leaders, the increasing need of whom was discussed 
 in the last chapter, from among the women? The move- 
 ment for emancipation has this purpose, not as a sub- 
 sidiary but as a principal object. Belva Lockwood ran 
 as a presidential candidate several times. There has been 
 one woman in Congress, and women have occupied other 
 responsible offices not without honor. Why not, then, 
 get more leaders from among the women? 
 
 Claims of women. — It is difficult to give a direct 
 and satisfactory answer. If the talent of women for 
 leadership is denied, history would easily disprove the 
 statement, and contemporary events would show 
 an increasing capacity for various forms of very efficient 
 work. With better facilities for education, women have 
 not only manifested an even greater desire for utilizing 
 them, but a greater capacity for profiting by them. 
 They claim that they are the equal of men in ability 
 if only given a chance. More opportunities are given 
 them every year, and more women become prominent 
 as leaders, not because they are trained for it, but be- 
 cause they have the necessary capacity by heredity. This 
 is not true, however, of all women, just as it is not 
 true of all men. Capacity is not a question of sex, but 
 of heredity; and this passes from both parents to both 
 sons and daughters in ways we are unable to control. 
 
 The question of emancipation must, then, have an- 
 other meaning. Does it depend upon occupation? But 
 
 82 
 
SIGNIFICANCE OF THE WOMAN'S MOVEMENT 83 
 
 this problem has been solved, since according to the Cen- 
 sus of 1900 only three occupations had not been invaded 
 by women — those of sailor, soldier and linesman. The 
 last of these has been open to v^romen since 1910, and 
 the women's "battalion of death" in Russia has proved 
 their fighting qualities. It cannot therefore be a ques- 
 tion of occupation, but one of the woman's relation to 
 her husband, or rather of her economic independence 
 through life, whether married or not. By independence 
 is meant, of course, that she should get her living by her 
 own efforts outside of the family, except during the com- 
 paratively short time when she is needed for child-bear- 
 ing, for which one advocate of women's emancipation 
 allows one year — the babies to be placed in a "baby 
 garden" as soon as possible until ready for the kinder- 
 garten. The meals would be prepared in common kitch- 
 ens, the cleaning done by experts, and the children cared 
 for by nurses and teachers from about the age of six 
 months until they went to work or to college — the pre- 
 requisite being that the school day should be coterminous 
 with the working day so that parents and children should 
 leave and return to the home at the same time. 
 
 Since the younger children would have to go to bed 
 at once after the evening meal and would be sent ofif 
 to school immediately after breakfast, the mothers would 
 have the opportunity to see them two half hours a day 
 unless of course there was over-time work to do, and 
 on Sundays unless again some more important work 
 should require the presence of the maternal wage worker 
 elsewhere than in the home. The case is, then, perfectly 
 clear. It is not an opening of all occupations to women 
 that is demanded by the advocates of emancipation, for 
 that has been granted for years, but freedom and release 
 
84 CHAPTER V 
 
 from the duties of the family and economic independence 
 from the husband. Under such a system there would be 
 very little opportunity for members of the family to meet 
 or to develop any intimate ties of friendship or aifection ; 
 their interests would lie in outside activities, and the pro- 
 pagation of the race would become a scientifically man- 
 aged process of incubation. The next step would logic- 
 ally come in time> — the abolition of the home and the 
 estabhshment of Fourier's phalansteries, not to mention 
 some other steps toward communism. This is surely the 
 way by which we would out-Prussianize the Prussians, 
 against whose principles we have fought so bitterly. 
 
 Are the claims true? — In the name of what scien- 
 tific principles is this demand made? There are two, 
 one economic and the other biological. The saving of 
 money running into billions, through common kitchens, 
 common households, common care of the children, and 
 other things in common, is constantly urged as the 
 reason for advocating these changes. A saving of the 
 energy of mothers and of the lives of children is likewise 
 advanced as an inducement for the new experiments. 
 
 The answer is not far to seek. Whether the economic 
 advantages would materialize is at best an unsolved prob- 
 lem. If the scientifically trained experts all the way 
 up from garbage men to house-cleaners were to ask wages 
 properly befitting their rank, there would most likely be 
 nothing left of the wife's salary for her own needs, 
 and she would be as dependent as ever on her husband. 
 As it is even now, so-called unskilled labor brings higher 
 financial returns than much skilled labor performed in 
 offices, shops and factories. That many women would 
 prefer to tend other people's babies all their lives out of 
 a tender regard for humanity, when other and more prof- 
 
SIGNIFICANCE OF THE WOMAN'S MOVEMENT 85 
 
 itable opportunities are open to them just as much as 
 to the mothers, is a little hard to believe. Such duties 
 have hitherto been performed by a few women imbued 
 with a strong religious or moral sense of duty. Re- 
 ligion is changing, however, and will change more if 
 the economic motive is advanced as the sole reason for 
 one person shouldering the burden of another. Many 
 women perform such duties professionally for a few 
 years, but usually marry when the proper occasion ar- 
 rives and attend to their own children. Life-long, pro- 
 fessionalized mothers would, moreover, not be as effi- 
 cient as well-trained mothers in families — a statement, 
 borne out by the high mortality of children in institutions. 
 
 Biological argument. — The biological argument runs 
 as follows : Among human beings alone is the female 
 dependent on the male; all through the lower realms 
 of creation she is economically independent and per- 
 fectly capable of protecting herself and her offspring. 
 As a result of this dependence, woman has changed 
 psychically and physically. She has become weaker and 
 smaller, and sex appetite has developed much beyond the 
 needs of nature, thus becoming unwholesome and in- 
 jurious. She lacks self-reliance, and has developed only 
 those qualities which make her attractive to the male. 
 She has, in short, become a parasite, looking to the male 
 for everything she needs, and has to pay the penalty 
 through a weakened physique and mentality. Had she 
 remained economically independent, she would be nearly, 
 if not fully the equal of man in mental and physical 
 strength, just as among the animals. As she is over- 
 sexed and as hereditary traits pass both to her sons and 
 daughters, the male has become oversexed likewise, and 
 this vicious circle has increased the evil until the human 
 
86 CHAPTER V 
 
 race is endowed with a physical passion which threatens 
 to become the means of its extinction, as it has already 
 become the source of innumerable forms of disease and 
 of social and marital trouble. Return her economic inde- 
 pendence, let her be free from restriction to family 
 duties, and biological mistakes will be corrected in the 
 course of time. This liberation is to be effected as indi- 
 cated above under the economic argument.^ 
 
 Difference between animal and human mother. — In 
 reply it might be said that there is a fundamental mis- 
 apprehension here as to the function of the animal and 
 the human mother. After a few months of care for 
 her young, the animal mother is free again, because 
 they are able to look after themselves. If she gives life 
 to healthy offspring, her duty is practically done, because 
 they mature rapidly and their instincts are normal, en- 
 abling them to provide for themselves. Since the in- 
 terests of the animal are few and have to do only with 
 physical maintenance, the instincts, forming the most 
 important part of physical heredity, furnish a practically 
 complete equipment and an almost infallible guide to well- 
 being. 
 
 The most important function of the human mother is, 
 on the contrary, not bearing but rearing. This must 
 extend over many years and must be individualized, 
 because each human being is, to a certain extent at least, 
 a special problem. There are so many adjustments to 
 be made to fit the individual into his social environment, 
 that special attention and much time must be given to 
 each child. This can plainly not be done if children are 
 herded together from morning till night, week after 
 
 1 Women and Economics, by Charlotte Perkins Gilman, Small, May- 
 nard & Company, Boston, 1915; and her article in Pictorial Review, 
 February, 1919, on "The Work and Waste of Women." 
 
SIGNIFICANCE OF WOMAN'S MOVEMENT 87 
 
 week, and month after month. In proportion as the 
 number of institutions, e. g., orphan asylums, have in- 
 creased, the term "institutionahzed children" has become 
 a reproach. And the more scientifically managed such 
 a "home" is, the more is the child required to fit into a 
 certain scheme of things and deprived of whatever initia- 
 tive he may have. A large institution simply must run 
 according to a fixed schedule, and cannot possibly pay 
 much attention to the individual. The plan of "placing 
 out" children for adoption has already been resorted to 
 by many child-saving agencies as a remedy against insti- 
 tutionalization, for although care for the physical welfare 
 may be less scientific in a family than in an asylum, 
 responsibility is taught and initiative encouraged. The 
 difference in the results has been almost as striking as 
 that between the over-reglemented Prussian and the com- 
 paratively free American soldier. 
 
 Historical development, too, argues against too much 
 herding of children; the tendency has been toward a 
 gradual individualization combined with a greater power 
 for co-operation on the part of man. In the early com- 
 munities everything was regulated, one pattern along a 
 particular line of action sufficed for all, and the indi- 
 vidual was bound hand and foot. It meant over-social- 
 ization and the killing of initiative, as in China. Since 
 no one could develop his particular talent, which would 
 give society a new view of itself, stagnation was inevit- 
 able. Only when man was allowed liberty in many re- 
 spects, could he co-operate with others on the basis of 
 the difference in results produced. When everybody 
 was his own producer of raw products, carpenter, tailor, 
 and hunter, there was and could be no exchange and 
 no development. Only with the differentiation of func- 
 tion could each man develop his own gift. 
 
88 CHAPTER V 
 
 Differentiation of male and female. — Some people 
 may deplore this departure from the original equality 
 and self-sufficiency of the members of society; it was, 
 however, the only way to progress. And the principle 
 applies to the gradual differentiation of the female. Just 
 because she is self-sufficient among animals and in savage 
 communities, she fails to develop and remains on a low 
 plane mentally and economically. Progress entails cer- 
 tain loses; we are unable to live on the raw and coarse 
 food of our primitive ancestors; there are, however, 
 compensating advantages in our favor. A price must 
 be paid for every advance made; that is the law of Hfe 
 and of progress, although few people realize it. Both 
 men and women have lost certain qualities which they 
 possessed in primitive times, and have gained others as 
 a compensation. Whether the gain is greater than the 
 loss, is a problem which need not be discussed in this 
 connection. The fact stands that we have changed, and 
 our only concern is to direct future developments into 
 beneficial channels. If, however, women are not to give 
 their chief attention to activities outside the home, what 
 shall they do when most of the economic duties formerly 
 devolving upon them have been taken over by other 
 agencies ? 
 
 Women still marry. — What are women doing now? 
 It has been noted above that practically all occupations 
 have been open to women since 1890, as shown by the 
 Census of 1900. The cry has gone up that women are 
 leaving the home and flooding the industries. It is true 
 that they are increasingly occupied in gainful pursuits, 
 but the percentage and the years thus spent are not alarm- 
 ing. Much of the work done formerly on the farm 
 and in the home without specified pay, is now compen- 
 
SIGNIFICANCE OF WOMAN'S MOVEMENT 89 
 
 sated with a regular wage. There were 8,075,772 girls 
 and women of all ages gainfully employed in 1910 in 
 practically every occupation; less than one-fourth of 
 these eight millions were in shops and factories. The 
 length of their working years is, however, limited; no 
 class of workers is so transient. The average time for 
 working girls in shops and factories probably does not 
 exceed three years. What do they do later? They 
 marry, and marry in increasing numbers, as the Census 
 of 1910 shows. 
 
 In 1890 the percentage of married, widowed, or di- 
 vorced women, fifteen years or over, was 68.1 ; in 1900 
 it was 68.6, and in 1910 about 70. A detailed statement 
 for 1910 shows that the age group, 15-19 years, has 
 11.6 per cent of married women ; that for 20-24, has 51.4, 
 that for 25-34 has 79.0; and that for 45-64 shows 70.0 
 per cent married, 21.2 widowed, 0.8 divorced, making 
 a total of 92 out of every one hundred women who have 
 come under the influence of marriage. The scare that 
 divorce is increasing at a too rapid rate is, moreover, 
 false. It was 0.4 per cent in 1890 for women, 0.5 in 
 1900, and 0.6 in 1910.^ Wives are, moreover, becoming 
 true mothers to a greater extent than since 1870 ; while 
 the birth rate is lowering slowly, the infant mortality 
 rate is dropping fast. There is, thus, a saving of lives, 
 trouble, and expense achieved owing to greater intelli- 
 gence among mothers. 
 
 "The truth is, there is no reason whatever for believ- 
 ing that revolutionary changes are going on in those 
 relations and activities which have been regarded as basic 
 in woman's life. She is no larger factor in industrial 
 life than she has always been, but the form of industry 
 
 1 Abstract of the Census for 1910, pp. 146-151. 
 
90 CHAPTER V 
 
 has changed. It draws her into great groups, and those 
 groups collect in cities and manufacturing towns. We 
 see her oftener than we did when she canned and wove 
 and sewed in small and isolated groups. She is more 
 obvious. She marries, makes her home, bears her chil- 
 dren. That which disconcerts those who observe her, 
 compare her with her predecessor, and conclude she is 
 something new in the world, is mainly that she talks, 
 thinks, and wants things that apparently never interested 
 her before. But this is true of man as of woman. She, 
 like him, is reacting to the new vision of the possibilities 
 in human life. 
 
 "Under the quickening power of this vision women 
 are casting off old forms of restraint which the belief 
 that the mass of human beings could not be trusted to 
 look out for themselves had spun. They are putting 
 their hands to new tasks, their heads to new thoughts. 
 That they may give time to things which are not worth 
 having, may doubt the significance of the old things 
 which are essential in all life, is but the human way in 
 periods of change. When you come down to the actual 
 facts in the case as shown in a searching document like 
 the census, you find that whatever the stir on the sur- 
 face, below, the same great occupation, the woman's 
 profession, claims her as it always has. 
 
 "Let us not be deceived. The human heart does not 
 change. It demands its mate, always has, always will; 
 and the mated will find a corner to themselves where 
 they can sit by their own fire and rear their own brood."' 
 
 Ellen Key* on women's sphere. — Where, then, is the 
 woman's problem? If women do what they have always 
 
 1 Ida M. Tarbell, The Ways of Women, pp. 15-17; Macmillan Company, 
 New York, 1915. 
 
SIGNIFICANCE OF WOMAN'S MOVEMENT 91 
 
 done — marry, sew. cook and rear children — why is there 
 so much unrest among them ? Are they to be confined to 
 those activities? If so, are we not stifling and suppressing 
 a large number of talented women and perhaps geniuses? 
 Some advanced women, like Ellen Key/ would indeed 
 restrict the sphere of women even more than in the 
 recent past. She would have her devote herself more 
 fully and completely to family life, not only face the 
 diminishing supply of domestic servants with composure, 
 but dismiss those she has with all female relatives who 
 might obstruct the free development of her powers, and 
 give herself up entirely to her children and nearest 
 kindred. She would make maternity the centre of 
 all her activities, and confine her sphere to those influ- 
 ences which enrich and develop her children. In that 
 way she would herself become a fine, strong and effective 
 personality by following the most important vocation in 
 society intelligently, and would supply to the world its 
 greatest need — healthy, self-reliant, efficient men and 
 women. She would at the same time find peace and 
 happiness in this successful achievement. 
 
 The lady. — But how about the woman to whom 
 motherhood is denied? Perhaps even wifehood? Must 
 she earn her living in a gainful occupation lest she run 
 the risk of being a parasite? There are other values 
 than those listed in economics. Certain qualities of per- 
 sonality may be worth more to society than the few 
 thousand dollars a woman may earn. The concept of 
 the lady as it began to be formulated during the age of 
 chivalry has grown, and forms a valuable asset of modern 
 society. Her very existence is a sufficient reason for 
 society to supply her with a living. What she is, is worth 
 
 1 The Century of the Child. 
 
92 CHAPTER V 
 
 more than what she might earn. Leisure with dignity 
 and sympathetic personality are not met with any too 
 frequently to have us condemn them. One of the most 
 important steps in the advance from barbarism to civiliza- 
 tion is the gradual creation of fine, wholesome, intelli- 
 gent personality. A woman of this kind will find her 
 hands full of work. There is much social friction to be 
 removed, much consolation to be given, and many hearts 
 to be cheered. She will give of herself bountifully to 
 society without stint and pay. 
 
 The talented woman. — That argument does not, 
 however, include the exceptional woman who wants 
 to be neither mother nor parasite, and the woman of 
 large ability in some special field. In the past when 
 practically all vocations were closed to women except 
 marriage, there was nothing for her to do but to resort 
 either to a free life or to go into a monastery. The his- 
 tory of Athens refers to several cases of the former, 
 and that of the Middle Ages to many of the latter. A 
 few only were born to occupy thrones, and had the oppor- 
 tunity to unfold their talents. With the opening of all 
 occupations to women a change for the better has come. 
 It has, however, only begun, and much more needs to 
 be done. 
 
 Adjustment necessary. — We are living in the transi- 
 tion period from the old to the new dispensation. As 
 was shown above, most women still follow the old occupa- 
 tion of wifehood and motherhood. The exceptional woman 
 has not found her place as yet, because men are slow 
 to admit her into their sphere. Where free competition 
 could not keep them out, e. g., histrionics and literature, 
 women have done excellent work. In teaching they have 
 practically a monopoly in the lower grades. Women's 
 
SIGNIFICANCE OF WOMAN'S MOVEMENT 93 
 
 talent must, however, be as varied as that of man. Are 
 there not more women like Miss Herschel, Mrs. Somer- 
 ville, Constance Naden and Sophie Kowalevsky, all of 
 whom have won honors in mathematics ? There must be 
 more women like Madame Curie in physics. The reason 
 for their non-appearance is most likely the apathy and 
 hostility manifested by men toward these talentea women 
 who often have to wage a long and bitter battle before 
 they get an opportunity. That is discouraging, because 
 talent is not as a rule combined with combativeness. 
 The fullest freedom should be given to these women not 
 only to develop, but to exercise their gifts in a proper 
 sphere. 
 
 Women have talent. — Society is not so rich in 
 talented persons or geniuses that it can afford to neglect 
 any. As was shown in the chapter on Eugenics, leader- 
 ship is essential for the progress of society. If under the 
 very discouraging conditions of both the distant and the 
 recent past women have produced so many outstanding 
 personalities, there should be a much better chance of 
 their doing so in the future. Society has undoubtedly 
 neglected to open up a rich storehouse of social treasure ; 
 in proportion as conditions become more complex, more 
 and higher genius is demanded for their adjustment. 
 Women are likely to furnish their full quota if given an 
 opportunity. One case may be cited in proof. 
 
 "One woman of the nineteenth century might well hold 
 the first place in such a record of the achievement and 
 martyrdom of the woman of genius. Stepping out into 
 the Western world from the dark shadows of Oriental 
 subjection of her sex, this woman of India, Anandabai 
 Joshe, appeals to the future for full recognition. And 
 if Being and Doing ever come to rank with Thinking 
 
94 CHAPTER V 
 
 and Imagining and Discovering as marks of greatness, 
 no list of the Immortals will be complete without her. 
 The record of her life epitomizes and makes heroic that 
 historic conflict in woman's lives between social duty 
 and personal idealism. A child wife at nine years of age ; 
 a child mother at fourteen, her baby's death making her 
 determine to study medicine for the benefit of her coun- 
 trywomen ; at seventeen overcoming tremendous obstacles 
 in order to carry out this purpose, which obliged her to 
 become the first high-caste woman, still loyal to her 
 inherited religion, to leave her country for a foreign land ; 
 at eighteen years entering upon her studies in the United 
 States and showing marvelous powers of scholary acqui- 
 sition and still more marvelous breadth of mind and 
 exaltation of moral nature; at twenty-one graduating 
 from the Woman's Medical College of Philadelphia, the 
 first Hindoo woman to take a medical degree in any 
 country; and dying at twenty-two, just as she received 
 her appointment as physician in charge of the Female 
 Ward of Albert Edward Hospital in Kolhapur, India — 
 her life reads like an incredible romance."^ 
 
 Few women amaternal. — We are, then, plainly fac- 
 ing a situation which has always existed but has never 
 been clearly recognized. There are differences between 
 women in mental capacity just as between men. There 
 is, however, another difference among women, which 
 does not exist among men to such a marked extent. 
 In 1910 there were 1,471.390 widowers in the United 
 States compared to 3.176.228 widows. These figures 
 bring into relief what has long since been known on the 
 basis of the biological function of the male, that men 
 
 1 Anna Garlin Spencer, Woman's Share in Social Culture. Mitchell 
 Kennerly, New York. 1913; pp. 85-86. 
 
SIGNIFICANCE OF WOMAN'S MOVEMENT 95 
 
 are naturally more disposed to marriage than women. 
 It is this difference which counts in the problem of 
 emancipation. A certain percentage of women is ama- 
 ternal, perhaps undersexed. They naturally rebel against 
 the marriage yoke, both the more and the less gifted. 
 The only difference between them consistsi in their 
 respective ability to voice their protest. 
 
 Few ways of escaping matrimony. — In the distant 
 past there was no way of escaping the marital bond, 
 because in the unsettled conditions survival was pos- 
 sible only through membership in a family. When 
 androcracy gained sway, no female of marriageable age 
 could survive unless she was the property of an adult 
 male. Every woman was thus forced into a marital 
 relation of some sort, whether as wife, mistress, or slave. 
 It was during those barbaric times that the ideas of 
 woman's social status became fixed. Society did not, 
 perhaps could not, tolerate an unattached female — a con- 
 ception which has come down to us in the opprobrious 
 term of spinster. As soon as conditions grew a httle 
 more settled and life became comparatively safe, the 
 amaternal women sought various forms of escape from 
 matrimony. In some cases they became priestesses, 
 like the vestal virgins in Rome ; in others, "hetaerai," free 
 women who sought pleasure, profit, or social service, 
 according to their own choice. After the advent of 
 Christianity, they became nuns during the Middle Ages, 
 later sisters of charity in Roman Catholic countries, and 
 deaconesses, teachers, and social workers in Protestant 
 countries. fe Until recently, the protest of the amaternal 
 women against marriage was mute, owing partly to lack 
 of education and partly to too strong objection by society 
 against their emancipation. With increasing educational 
 
V6 CHAPTER V 
 
 facilities — for which women had to fight long and hard — 
 and with better opportunities to make a living in industry, 
 the protest became more and more articulate and general. 
 There is now a fairly large number of women of this 
 class who not only refuse but abhor marriage, owing 
 ^ to their resentment for unjust treatment in the past. 
 
 Liberty for amaternal women. — These women 
 should be given the fullest liberty to develop their talents. 
 If they have talent every educational opportunity should 
 be offered them; if they have but moderate gifts, they, 
 like most men, must make a living by some kind of 
 manual labor or office work. It has been no advantage 
 to the race to force these women into marriage, and 
 make them unwilling wives and inefficient mothers ; for 
 they lacked not only the education for child rearing but 
 also the inclination. In some cases the maternal instinct 
 is strong but impersonal. Many women of this type be- 
 come mothers-at-large, and render invaluable service 
 to society as nurses, teachers, social workers, friends 
 of the oppressed, and in many other capacities. With the 
 increasing division of labor in every sphere of life, they 
 find more opportunities for their specific gifts. The only 
 thing they need and demand is the removal of every 
 trace of that obloquy which, once universal, but still 
 too common even among civilized men, is attached to 
 voluntary celibacy. A woman should be free to choose 
 her work as freely as a man, and develop her talents 
 along the lines for which she is best fitted. It will 
 remove friction and increase happiness. 
 
 Adjustment for maternal women. — The maternal 
 women are, however, in the majority, and some new ad- 
 justment must be made for them if wifehood and mother- 
 hood are not to fall under the opprobrium of the ama- 
 
SIGNIFICANCE OF WOMAN'S MOVEMENT 97 
 
 ternal and become the only refuge of the less gifted for 
 making a living. The demand for independence is strong 
 in every person, and even those who love their family 
 filnctions most, should feel that they are rendering a 
 socially acknowledged service; otherwise the gifted 
 among the maternal will seek other work, perhaps against 
 their inclination, because it leaves them more independent. 
 Many mothers and wives are erroneously under the 
 impression that their services, especially if they have to 
 do the housework, are not only less remunerative — some- 
 thing they do not worry about — but less esteemed socially. 
 Hence, some new adjustment must be made for them. 
 Four aspects only can be mentioned. 
 
 First, a proper appreciation of motherhood. This has 
 been done in an endless number of poems in the past, 
 but from a sentimental point of view. This was, per- 
 haps, sufficient as long as woman had no other outlet 
 for her energy, but is inadequate to-day. The social 
 view must be insisted on. From this point of view, 
 sociologists have found that, other things being equal, 
 a nation with a high type of motherhood will develop 
 better equipped men and women than one with a lower 
 type. The history of nations has no more emphatic les- 
 son to teach than this. If, consequently, the race is to 
 be preserved and to make progress ; if the development 
 of personality is the main business of life, both in our- 
 selves and others ; and if this purpose can be fulfilled 
 only through the family — ^the mother is the most indis- 
 pensable person in society, because she enriches the world 
 with a unique contribution, ■ made of the universal 
 elements, shaped to some rare beauty all its own. 
 
 Second, there should be no more idle discussion about 
 the relative importance of man and woman. It has been 
 
98 CHAPTER V 
 
 a source of deep grief, especially to the more sensitive 
 and better endowed women, that they were disparaged 
 in every way by both religion and philosophy. It has 
 retarded their development and prevented them from 
 working intelligently as well as sentimentally as mothers. 
 There is a natural division of labor between male and 
 female in procreation, and between husband and wife 
 in the family. Both are essential and necessary. The 
 scientist never debates whether hydrogen or oxygen is 
 more essential in the making of water; both are neces- 
 sary, and that settles the question. An analogy might, 
 perhaps, be in place here. The husband has often called 
 himself the head of the house, and man-law has allowed 
 the claim. If this is true, the wife is surely the heart 
 of the family. No discussion is needed to show that a 
 person cannot live without head or heart. Admitting 
 certain differences between an organism and an organiza- 
 tion, the analogy holds true concerning man's and 
 woman's work. 
 
 Third, a financial arrangement should be made whereby 
 the wife gets a definite share of the husband's income. 
 In some cases she gets it all and she is the manager. 
 Those are usually the happiest families. In others she 
 has to ask for everything she needs as a favor. That 
 breeds, and should breed, trouble. A more equitable 
 arrangement would be one which has been tried success- 
 fully in some families. Setting aside what is needed for 
 business and household expenses and allowance for chil- 
 dren, the rest is divided equally between husband and 
 wife. That gives the wife a recognized economic status, 
 and a feeling of independence. It may not be possible 
 to do this in every case; it would, however, be the ideal 
 arrangement. A husband who has to turn over all his 
 
SIGNIFICANCE OF WOMAN'S MOVEMENT 99 
 
 earnings to his wife and ask for spending money, is cer- 
 tainly not the one most respected by women ; and a wife 
 who cannot be trusted with more money than for a 
 specified need, is looked upon as a child. 
 
 Fourth, some definite training should be given to 
 maternal women both for motherhood and for independ- 
 ence. Most girls marry after twenty; many after 
 twenty-five. That makes from four to eight years dur- 
 ing which an independent girl does not wish to be a 
 burden to a family in moderate circumstances. Provi- 
 sion is now being made in many schools to train girls for 
 specific work, so that they may support themselves and 
 not have to marry for economic reasons. These girls 
 may collect much useful information in their business, 
 which will stand them in good stead in the family. If 
 widowhood befalls them, they are ready to look after 
 themselves and children; and after the children have 
 reached adult age and are provided for, they can, if 
 they choose, resume their gainful occupations to spend 
 their later years in economic independence. Some women 
 have to work while married to increase family earnings. 
 But whether work during or after marriage is necessary 
 or not, a training for a specific occupation gives a feel- 
 ing of independence. 
 
 Training for motherhood is gradually being considered 
 as necessary, although it has made little headway. Almost 
 every day new factors prove its importance, especially 
 in the care of children. They have always died in large 
 numbers; but we knew not how many, and took their 
 death as a matter beyond our control. We know now 
 why they die, and consequently call for the training of 
 mothers for their vocation when we read of the avoid- 
 able death of 300,000 babies per year. 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 THE SPIRITUALIZATION OF WORK 
 
 Definition of work. — Progress is possible only 
 through systematic exertion. This is called work. 
 The term "work" is used here in a generic sense, 
 and implies all forms of activity on the part of man 
 with a view of getting sustenance and other things 
 needful for living as a human being, as compared 
 with mere animal existence. 
 
 It may be well to show before we proceed further that 
 animals do not work. They merely try to get a living by 
 their exertions ; but these are prompted by purely physical 
 demands and imply little, if any, foresight. When a 
 buffalo grazes over the prairies, he merely satisfies an 
 immediate want of nature in the only way it can be satis- 
 fied. "The cattle on a thousand hills" are not working, 
 since they obey the irresistible instinct of nature, which 
 demands satisfaction at the cost of death. The poet may 
 sing his songs about the gazelle and its browsing over the 
 meadows of Africa, and the wise man may exhort us to 
 follow the example of the busy bee or the industrious 
 ant — still the fact remains that they do not work in the 
 true sense of the word, as will be explained more fully 
 later. 
 
 Under the generic term "work" we include three forms 
 of activity — toil, labor and work proper. These forms 
 differ in the amount of intelligence and enjoyment which' 
 enter into each, and that is the only criterion for thair 
 differentiation for present purposes. 
 
 100 
 
THE SPIRITUALIZATION OF WORK 101 
 
 What toil is. — Toil means the application of mere 
 physical energy to the removal of an obstacle or the 
 accomplishing of a task. It usually implies that the 
 task is set by another. When the Egyptian slaves 
 carried blocks of stone which went into the building 
 of the pyramids, they were toiling because their own 
 physical energy was set against the dead weight of 
 the stones. When, as I once read, a man set an 
 employee at the task of carting bricks from one part 
 of the yard to another, and then back again, and kept him 
 going that way all day long, he may have had the laudable 
 purpose of testing the implicit obedience of the employee. 
 The latter rightly refused, however, to accede to the wish 
 of the employer because the task reduced him to a mere 
 machine and a toiler. He protested with good reason 
 that no even half-way intelligent man should be asked to 
 expend energy in senseless and useless effort. 
 
 What labor is. — Labor means the application of 
 physical and mental energy for accomplishing a use- 
 ful task. The task is, however, usually set by an- 
 other, and the means of achieving it are also given, 
 as a rule. It is this setting of the task and the 
 prescription of the method which often make labor 
 irksome, rather than the physical exertion. The latter 
 if often at minimum, for instance, in a machine-shop, 
 where a man may merely adjust the machine with a 
 little tightening of screws to achieve the necessary result. 
 The polo-player spends a much greater amount of energy 
 in that very taxing game, and the football-player may ex- 
 pend more energy in two hours than some men do in 
 a week tending a machine. The difference consists, then, 
 not so much in the application of what we choose to call 
 manual labor, but in the free choice of the form in which 
 physical energy is to be expended. 
 
102 CHAPTER VI 
 
 What work is. — Work means the application of 
 physical and mental energy to a task which one either 
 has chosen or enjoys. It is this element of choice 
 and of enjoyment which differentiates work from toil 
 and labor. An organist answered the question of 
 ■what he was doing by saying, "My work is all play." 
 Yet he was a tremendously busy man and needed a 
 considerable muscular development of arms, hands, 
 and fingers to play the large organ. No man would 
 claim even for a moment that Paderewski did not 
 expend a vast amount of physical energy when, for 
 3'^ears, he practiced ten hours a day on the piano in 
 order to obtain that marvelous skill in technique for 
 which he is known. It was not all recreation by any 
 means, since the practising of every possible scale and 
 the acquisition of finger technique is not an exhilarating 
 performance; it is often a difficult and frequently a 
 monotonous procedure. 
 
 What relieves these tasks from irksomeness and tedium 
 is the mental element which enters into them. There is 
 the zest to do a thing better than anybody else, or to do 
 something which nobody has done before. Intelligence 
 and patience are required for both. But, oh, the joy 
 of it ! I remember finding a friend of mine a few years 
 ago in a perfect ecstasy of joy. He was a cello-player, 
 sixty-five years old. When I entered the room after a 
 curt "Come in!" he was playing away, repeating again 
 and again ascertain passage, and, without saying a word, 
 merely motioned toward a chair with his head. Knowing 
 his ways, I sat down and waited for fifteen minutes 
 listening to that passage. At last he stopped, shook hands, 
 and excused himself for his apparent rudeness. Then, 
 with face beaming, he told me that after many trials ex- 
 
THE SPIRITUAUZATION OF WORK 103 
 
 tending over years he had succeeded in mastering a piece 
 of technique which only one other cellist could perform. 
 In order to make sure that it was not a mere accident 
 he had to play it over and over again. He easily looked 
 fifteen years younger at that moment. He has, indeed, 
 kept remarkably young and virile by setting new tasks 
 for himself every week. 
 
 The objection may be raised that in every case men- 
 tioned there was a high aim to which physical exertion 
 was incidental. This is not necessarily the case. Purely 
 physical labor may be raised to a higher level with a 
 proper mental attitude. A passage from Jack London's 
 War of the Classes will illustrate this: 
 
 "I hope that I have made it clear that I was proud 
 to be one of nature's strong-armed noblemen. The dig- 
 nity of labor was to me the most impressive thing in the 
 world. Without having read Carlyle or Kipling I formu- 
 lated a gospel of work which put theirs in the shade. 
 Work was everything. It was sanctification and salva- 
 tion. The pride I took in a hard day's work well done 
 would be inconceivable to you. It is almost inconceiv- 
 able to me as I look back upon it. I was as faithful 
 a wage-slave as ever capitalist exploited. To shirk or 
 to malinger on the man who paid me my wages was a 
 sin ; first, against myself, and, secondly, against him. I 
 considered it a crime second only to treason, and just 
 about as bad." Work depends, then, on mental develop- 
 ment, it is primarily psychical and only incidentally 
 physical. 
 
 Characteristics of work. — Why does the animal 
 play but not work? In all work planning is neces- 
 sary. The end or aim must be fairly clear in one's 
 mind, and ways and means must be adapted to that 
 
104 CHAPTER VI 
 
 end. Only when we know what we want to do and 
 have an idea how to accomplish what we want can it 
 be said that we work. It will be fairly plain that the 
 animal does not do this. It does not plan beforehand, 
 but simply obeys the promptings of its instincts. When 
 the cow is hungry she gets up and eats, and when she 
 is thirsty she looks for water. The search for pasture 
 and for water is, of course, necessary, but there is no 
 planning about it for future reference. The cow may 
 remember where the feeding has been good and seek 
 out that place a second time, but she makes no provision 
 for the future and does not plan where and how to 
 eat to-morrow. 
 
 An objection may be raised here with a reference to 
 bees and squirrels, which store up food for the winter. 
 Is that not making provision for the future, and should 
 it not be called work, since it implies planning? It is 
 storing up food, but it is not work because it does not 
 imply planning. To put it roughly, no one will for a 
 moment imagine that animals have a calendar by which 
 they go in the summer and autumn. Those animals — 
 and many others — obev an instinct which prompts them 
 to hide in their nests what they cannot eat. Every animal 
 in the temperate zone, by means of its instinct, makes 
 provision to survive the winter. Some species of bears 
 eat all they can while the eating is good, then when it 
 gets cold they withdraw into a cave or some other safe 
 place and go to sleep until spring. 
 
 The frog buries itself in the mud ; the migratory birds 
 go south ; some insects go into a state of suspended anima- 
 tion, and other animals resort to some other method 
 in obedience to their own particular instinct. By develop- 
 ing and obeying the racial instinct the dififerent species 
 
THE SPIRITUALIZATION OF WORK 105 
 
 of animals have survived. But there is no conscious 
 planning in it. The bear is certainly a more intelligent 
 animal than the bee, yet it survives by obedience to its 
 instincts without laying up food. 
 
 Work implies a clear perception of the future. No 
 animal has that. It lives in the present, and, to a limited 
 extent, in the past; its mentality does not include the 
 future. This ability to look into and provide for the 
 future is a peculiarly human ability. Not all men have 
 it. Children and savages generally are lacking in this 
 respect, and even the lower types of men in semi- 
 civilization are devoid of it. This ability has been de- 
 veloped with the increase of mentality, especially of 
 intelligence. We teach our children to be careful not to 
 break their toys to-day because they will have none 
 to-morrow. Man has had to learn this lesson in order 
 to survive. He could not hibernate like the bear, nor 
 was he prompted like the squirrel by an irresistible 
 impulse to lay up nuts and other food for the winter; 
 neither could he migrate to the south. The result was 
 that he could live only in 'is'opical regions where nature 
 furnished some food all the year round. But when for 
 some reason or other nature's table was not spread for 
 him he perished. Only those tribes survived in the 
 long run which learned to consider the future as well 
 as the present. This meant work. 
 
 The meaning of work is not so much physical exer- 
 tion as the intelligent expenditure of energy. The savage 
 spends much energy in war-dances and in other foolish 
 ways, but accomplishes nothing useful. He does not plan 
 his efforts so as to economize strength and apply it in a 
 manner that will produce good results. He does not 
 adapt means to ends, or, at any rate, adequate means. 
 
106 CHAPTER VI 
 
 Hence he often goes hungry. His life alternates between 
 feasting and fasting, according as nature is generous 
 or parsimonious. 
 
 Moreover, work requires patience. To plan requires 
 time and exertion. We are familiar with people who 
 make up their minds on the spur of the moment, go ahead, 
 and then find to their consternation that the plan does 
 not work. That is a trait of savagery. Nature can be 
 coaxed, but coaxing is a slow process ; it takes time and 
 patience. We read sometimes of an inventor who sud- 
 denly "struck on" a great idea. The fact usually is that 
 he has spent weeks, perhaps months and years, thinking 
 over the scheme. He has very likely made many plans, 
 changed them, rejected some, and adapted others. The 
 great idea is the culmination and fruition of much hard 
 thinking and studying. Even the genius is not exempt 
 from this necessity, for he, too, must develop the gift 
 that is in him. Hence the well-known definition of genius 
 as a capacity for taking infinite pains. If the genius 
 must exert himself, the average mortal cannot escape 
 this necessity. 
 
 General results of work. — The only results of work 
 which concern us here are psychological. Briefly 
 stated, it is work which has made us human beings, 
 because through work we have become more intel- 
 ligent, more persistent, more humane, and more 
 social. The savage is cruel and unsocial not so much 
 because it is a part of his nature as because he is in 
 perpetual need and in an almost continuous condition 
 of starvation. Work has enabled us to secure not only 
 the necessaries but some comforts of life ; we are better 
 disposed toward our fellow men, and we are able to give 
 to the poor and needy from our affluence. 
 
THE SPIRITUALIZATION OF WORK 107 
 
 Early view of work. — The ancients looked upon 
 work as a curse because it was to them mostly toi! 
 and labor; there was little exaltation of spirit in it 
 because there was little intelligence in it. If we 
 had to make our living by digging roots, gathering 
 berries, or following the game without weapons, life 
 would be hardly worth living, and we might justly 
 look upon work as a curse imposed upon us for dis- 
 obedience. Since work has changed largely from physi- 
 cal to mental exertion, we enjoy it because it has become 
 the means of our education. 
 
 Work educates man in three different ways, although 
 these respects are interrelated and form a combination 
 which makes modern man what he is — a person sprung 
 from primitive man, like him in all that is animal, but 
 different in all that is human. This may seem a strong 
 statement to those who have read books of certain 
 authors who claim that man has not improved morally 
 over his animal ancestor. The late Alfred Russel Wal- 
 lace, the co-discoverer of the theory of evolution, said 
 in a book, published shortly before his death: 
 
 "Taking account of these various groups of undoubted 
 facts, many of which are so gross, so terrible, that they 
 cannot be overstated, it is not too much to say that our 
 whole system of society is rotten from top to bottom, 
 and the social environment as a whole, in relation to our 
 possibilities and our claims, is the worst that the world 
 has ever seen."^ 
 
 Many others have come to the conclusion that it would 
 be better to return to what they call the life of nature. 
 Are these claims true ? Have we, indeed, reared a social 
 structure which is "rotten from top to bottom" ? If true, 
 
 1 Social Environment and Moral Progress, p. 169. 
 
108 CHAPTER VI 
 
 then work, which has enabled us to achieve what we are 
 proud to call our civilization, would be a curse indeed, 
 since it would not only subject us to a considerable 
 amount of useless exertion, but would, in addition, help 
 our mental nature to deteriorate. 
 
 Work as education. Physically. — ^There is an erro- 
 neous but widely spread notion that "nature-man," 
 as we call savages and barbarians, is stronger and 
 healthier than civilized man. This notion is false, 
 as a brief glance at two facts will show. The average 
 length of life in India — by no means a barbarous, 
 but a semi-civilized country — is 23.0 years; it is 42.8 
 in Italy, 44.1 in Massachusetts, 44.1 in England and 
 Wales. 45.7 in France, 53.9 in Sweden. This is for 
 males, for females it is a little higher in each country. 
 During the sixteenth century the length of life was 21.2 
 years in Geneva, Switzerland; 25.7 in the seventeenth 
 century ; 33.6 in the eighteenth, and 39.7 years from 1801 
 to 1883. The inference from these facts is evident. 
 Primitive man, like the savage of to-day, must have had 
 a much shorter average life than is found in India to-day. 
 Mortality in the United States to-day is about 15 per 
 thousand. In some regions which are still in the state of 
 nature it goes as high as 70 or 80. and in some cases over 
 100. Length of life and mortality are usually an index 
 to vitality. The simple fact that modern civilized man 
 is more favored in both respects is proof that his vitality 
 is better and that he is stronger. 
 
 This statement may be proved from another point 
 of view. We suppose that a savage expends very much 
 energy, much more, indeed, than civilized man. It is 
 true that nature-man is very active at times and draws 
 heavily on his vitality. But he does this irregularly and 
 
THE SPIRITUALIZATION OF WORK 109 
 
 rests during the comparatively long intervals. We might 
 say that he works hard for one day of the week and 
 rests for six days; with us the reverse is true. The 
 energy expended by a bookkeeper, for instance, day by 
 day during the course of a year, would certainly treble, 
 if not quadruple, that of a savage in the same period. 
 The simple fact that savages cannot stand regular work 
 in civilized communities is ample proof for this statement. 
 They have not sufficient energy. 
 
 How has civilized man acquired this greater energy? 
 By working more regularly and thus exercising more 
 regularly. Vitality is not a gift, but an acquired trait 
 which has been developed gradually. Working more 
 regularly enabled man to get a better food supply, and 
 more regular meals were thus assured. Better food, 
 in turn, enabled man to work better, that is, longer and 
 more intelligently. It is a circular movement of give 
 and take. 
 
 Intellectually. — Good work is not a hit-or-miss afifair : 
 it is the result of hard and prolonged thought. A 
 poet may write a ballad in a few hours of inspiration ; 
 a scientist must apply himself assiduously for days 
 and weeks to a problem. Homer wrote as fine epics 
 as have ever been written ; but it took the world five 
 thousand years to work out the idea of Daedalus 
 about aerial flight. What we imagine is one thing, 
 and it needs only a keen sense of symmetry to put 
 it into attractive phrases and verses. The translation 
 of these ideas into objective things that will stand 
 inspection and application is a different matter. The 
 patent office in Washington contains thousands of 
 new schemes for doing every possible thing, but "they 
 won't work." Perpetual motion is a perfectly correct 
 
110 CHAPTER VI 
 
 idea, but it cannot be put into a workable form, although 
 many schemes have been patented. A teacher of manual 
 training told me that many a boy who was "bright" in 
 the three R's proved a failure when it came to making 
 a chair or a table. Why? Because it is easy enough 
 to learn how to spell and how to figure; all that is 
 needed is an accurate and retentive memory. To make 
 a piece of furniture that will stand straight, with every 
 line and angle correct, requires exact measurements and 
 some constructive ability. 
 
 Work has taught us how to accommodate ourselves 
 to the hard facts of the world and to make them sub- 
 ject to ourselves. Translation of thought into action has 
 been the most valuable intellectual training man has re- 
 ceived, and he has progressed in exact proportion as he 
 has succeeded in doing it. 
 
 Work has educated man morally. — This may seem 
 strange to many. It is, nevertheless, true. If what has 
 been said in the preceding paragraph is true, the reason 
 for work as a basis for morality will be clear. If 
 work requires close, constant application, if it requires 
 careful planning for the future, it is the best possible 
 foundation for a good character, since this process re- 
 quires the same quality. We may be saved by faith, like 
 the thief on the cross ; but we have to work long and hard 
 to build up a Christian character. The apostle means 
 just this in writing to the Philippians (II, 12) : "Work 
 out your own salvation with fear and trembling." We 
 cannot become good by merely wishing it ; we must work 
 for character — days, weeks, months, and years. Wishes 
 alone cannot make us true Christians. Facts and ex- 
 perience prove that only those men attain this goal w^-o 
 have the qualities which form the basis for both good 
 work and character. 
 
THE SPIRITUALIZATION OF WORK 111 
 
 Work is a guide to social freedom. — It has just been 
 treated as education, and an attempt was made to show 
 that it was not a curse but a blessing. The latter may 
 still be looked upon as somewhat negative, as something 
 imposed upon us for our good. If work were nothing 
 more than a kind of taskmaster it would be somewhat 
 irksome and unwelcome. We take medicine when we 
 are ill not because we enjoy it, but because we know that 
 it is for our physical welfare. The aim conquers the 
 aversion to the means. Work must be something more 
 than a corrective if it is to fulfill its mission. It is, in 
 fact, the means of our liberation. It makes us free 
 human beings. The term "freedom" is not used here in 
 the political or metaphysical sense, but in the social. 
 Mankind has reached the present level of civilization 
 only through work. Here we can do hardly more than 
 indicate the diflferent spheres in which we have attained 
 liberty through this agency. 
 
 Work liberates us from the thraldom of nature. — We 
 can scarcely realize how absolutely dependent primitive 
 man was on nature. He might get under a tree to avoid 
 the heat like an animal, but that was about all. He might 
 crawl into a cave to avoid the cold, but it was poor pro- 
 tection. Worse yet was the dependence upon nature for 
 food. He had to contend himself with what she fur- 
 nished; sometimes she was lavish, at other times nig- 
 gardly. He could not, however, make plans for the fu- 
 ture because he could not depend on what she might do. 
 And so he remained in a condition of subjection to her 
 whims. 
 
 Work has liberated man from his sensual nature.— 
 The control of sensuality is the chief element in the avoid- 
 ance of carnal sin. This is the element which is developed 
 
1!3 CHAPTER VI 
 
 through work, because it demands subordination of the 
 present to the future, of the immediate to the remote. 
 It constantly requires us to exercise foresight and to 
 consider everything with regard to its bearing on a large 
 complex of conditions. This constant exercise of mental 
 qualities makes self-control easier. Work, however, fur- 
 nishes a legitimate and regular outlet for our energy and 
 prevents an irregular manifestation of it either through 
 vice or through intemperate and cataclysmic outbursts, 
 such as we often find among savages. 
 
 Work liberates us from the fear of man. — The man 
 who works diligently and intelligently and achieves some- 
 thing worth while usually has a quiet dignity about him, 
 which is often impressive. He knows that he is paying 
 his board to the world and is earning his own living. 
 The writer knows a cigar-packer who refuses to pack 
 poor cigars and insists that every box that leaves his 
 hands shall contain "honest goods," that is, properly 
 labeled as grade one, two, or three. He refuses to be 
 instrumental in the perpetration of a fraud upon the 
 public and has left more than one employer for that 
 reason. During the Middle Ages the cities owed their 
 greatness largely to the pride and efficiency of the gilds, 
 because they consisted of mechanics who knew their 
 trades and were bound to do good work. Ghent, Cologne, 
 Nuremberg, and other cities owed their greatness to the 
 staunch independence and other sterling qualities of their 
 trade-unions, which consisted of men who had learned 
 their trade thoroughly. 
 
 Compare with men of this type the "Jack of all trades," 
 whose shifty eye 'ndicates that he has never had suf- 
 ficient courage and persistence to master any trade well. 
 There is a world of difference between them. One looks 
 
THE SPIRITUALIZATION OF WORK 113 
 
 at the world and any man frankly and fearlessly; the 
 other works irregularly, and vaguely answers the question 
 what he can do with : "Oh, anything !" Compare also the 
 rich or the poor idler who lives on the work of others 
 and is either arrogant or subservient. 
 
 Work liberates man even from the fear of himself. — 
 
 There is perhaps nothing more pitiful than a man who 
 is constantly afraid of himself, or rather, of what he may 
 do — for instance, commit a crinje or fall into vice. As 
 a rule, such people are not habitual or regular workers, 
 otherwise they would have had to acquire sufficient con- 
 trol over their wayward tendencies to keep them in check, 
 and their self-control would be sufficient to banish 
 thoughts of that kind. It is chiefly the man who works 
 without interest at his task who is beset in this way. 
 Any one whose heart is in his work concentrates his 
 attention upon it; the mastery he acquires over his par- 
 ticular field gives him confidence to face the future with- 
 out fear either of himself or of any other. He applies 
 the principles which made him successful in his work 
 to his own perhaps poorly organized instincts, brings 
 them under control, and is able to face the future without 
 any misgiving concerning himself. 
 
 How have we learned to work? — The savage, as has 
 been shown in an earlier lesson, does not work in the 
 true sense of the word. The question naturally arises 
 how man learned to give up his animal habits and to 
 apply himself persistently to his own improvement and 
 to making provision for the future. This is a long and 
 a sad story, and the acquisition of the capacity and will- 
 ingness to work has merited the statement that labor is 
 a curse. The only institution which was capable of turn- 
 ing man from his irregular and disconnected activities 
 
114 CHAPTER VI 
 
 to regularity and systematic effort was slavery. There 
 was apparently no other way. Man had to acquire two 
 aptitudes to turn from savagery to industry. 
 
 He had to acquire sufficient physical energy. This was 
 possible only through regularity of application in order 
 to secure a regular food supply. He was averse to 
 applying himself steadily, and only the fear of the lash 
 and the threat of death could induce him to give up his 
 wild and roaming habits. He had to be tamed and 
 domesticated so as to stay in one place or near his mas- 
 ter's house. The master was usually a man of superior 
 strength, and war-like nations have generally been slave- 
 holders because they were unwilling to work for them- 
 selves, but forced their captives to do it for them. But 
 the penalty for the idleness of their masters — if sufifici- 
 ently prolonged — was degeneration, and in the course of 
 time another more virile race conquered and enslaved 
 them. The extermination of the indigenous West-Indians 
 is one of the best-known cases in modern times. They 
 succumbed so quickly that Las Casas. the priest, sug- 
 gested the importation of negroes from Africa so as to 
 save the few Indians still left. This led to the well- 
 known horrors of Negro slavery. Only the strongest were 
 able to survive the ordeal, and in the course of time a 
 generation sufficiently strong to withstand the hardships 
 of regular work grew up, and the first step toward civil- 
 ization was taken. 
 
 The other aptitude man had to acquire in order to 
 make society possible was teamwork. Slaves, whether 
 ten or ten thousand under the sway of one master, had 
 to be taught to work together, that is, a division of labor 
 had to be arranged so that their efforts supplemented one 
 another and became more productive. Slavery again was 
 
THE SPIRITUALIZATION OF WORK 115 
 
 the only means to do this. Mankind has had to pay a 
 high price for becoming civilized, but it was worth while, 
 since every high-grade achievement must still be paid 
 for with the sweat of our brows. 
 
 The slaves who had to work together learned to like 
 one another, at least to the extent of not fighting one 
 another. It was partly common misery and partly sheer 
 habit which slowly but surely drew them toward one 
 another. New qualities sprang into existence, and eventu- 
 ally the human beast was sufficiently tamed to work and 
 suffer together and to live in comparative peace. Men be- 
 came social. This gave a new impetus to advancement. 
 
 Men learned that each could do a certain kind of work 
 better than somebody else. This resulted in voluntary 
 division of labor like that under slavery. In proportion 
 as liberty was extended this division increased, and pro- 
 ductivity increased with it. Wants multiplied likewise, 
 and men learned that they must depend upon one another 
 for the satisfaction of wants which they could not them- 
 selves supply. Here was given the opportunity for larger 
 societies or states. A social group which has few and 
 simple wants and is able to supply them will remain 
 small. Only a group which has many and varied wants 
 will strive to include other groups, because that was orig- 
 inally the only way to supply them. States and nations 
 have risen in that way. With the further multiplication 
 and variety of wants this was no longer possible, and 
 international commerce sprang up. All this means a 
 recognition of our interdependence, and that knowledge 
 is the basis of a larger socialization — a socialization which 
 must and will eventually include all nations. 
 
116 CHAPTER VI 
 
 THE GLORY OF TOIL^ 
 
 Whether they delve in the buried coal, or plow the upland soil, 
 Or man the seas, or measure the suns, hail to the men who toil ! 
 It was stress and strain, in wood and cave, while the primal 
 
 ages ran, 
 That broadened the brow, and built the brain, and made of a 
 
 brute a man; 
 And better the lot of the sunless mine, the fisher's perilous sea, 
 Than the slothful ease of him who sleeps in the shade of his 
 
 bread-fruit tree ; 
 For sloth is death and stress is life in all God's realms that are, 
 And the joy of the limitless heavens is the whirl of star with 
 
 star! 
 Still reigns the ancient order — to sow, and reap, and spin; 
 But oh, the spur of the doing, and oh, the goals to win. 
 Where each, from the least to the greatest, must bravely bear 
 
 his part — 
 Make straight the furrows, or shape the laws, or dare the 
 
 crowded mart! 
 And he who lays firm the foundations, tho strong right arm 
 
 may tire, 
 Is worthy as he who curves the arch and dreams the airy spire; 
 For both have reared the minster that shrines the sacred fire. 
 
 Floods drown the fairest valleys; fields droop in the August 
 
 blaze; 
 Yet rain and sun are God's angels that give us the harvest days, 
 And toil is the world's salvation, tho stern may be its ways : 
 Far from the lair it has led us — far from the gloom of the cave — 
 Till lo, we are lords of Nature, instead of her crouching slave! 
 And slowly it brings us nearer to the ultimate soul of things : 
 We are weighing the atoms, and wedding the seas, and cleaving 
 
 the air with wings ; 
 
 ^ Title poem from The Glory of Toil, by Edna Dean Proctor, 
 Houghton, Miflin & Co., 1917. The author was eighty-six years 
 old at the time this book was published; her first book appeared 
 fifty years earlier, 1867. Work has kept her young. 
 
THE SPIRITUALIZATION OF WORK 117 
 
 And draining the tropic marshes where death had lain in wait. 
 And piercing the polar solitudes, for all their icy state; 
 And luring the subtle electric flame to set us free from the clod — 
 O toiling Brothers, the earth around, we are working together 
 
 with God! 
 With God, the infinite Toiler, who dwells with His humblest 
 
 ones. 
 And tints the dawn and the lily, and flies with the flying suns. 
 And forever through love and service, tho days may be drear 
 
 and dim. 
 Is guiding the whole creation up from the depths to Him! 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 THE NECESSITY FOR BETTER HEALTH 
 
 Health and the Community. — Work, as explained in 
 the preceding chapter, is no longer an affair of the 
 individual, but of society. It, likewise, no longer rests 
 within his own power alone to keep well but largely 
 in that of the community. Hence, the justification of 
 treating health as a sociological topic. 
 
 Interdependence of Individuals. — The individual is 
 linked up with thousands and millions of other in- 
 dividuals, most of whom he may never see. When 
 people wore mostly home-spun, the bacteria of tuber- 
 culosis and diphtheria remained in the family, and 
 killed, maybe, every member of it. Society was but 
 little affected. But, in the manufacture of clothing in 
 large quantities as carried on today in factories or 
 sweat-shops, disease germs may be carried into hun- 
 dreds, if not thousands of homes; because, owing to 
 the minute division of labor, an affected person hand- 
 ling a large number of garments a day, may turn 
 hundreds of pieces of clothing into carriers of disease. 
 Again, if the morbidity rate is high in a community, 
 even the well may have to stop work owing to the 
 interdependence of the operators. Finally, the sick- 
 ness of a highly placed man in business or politics 
 may affect the stock exchange, and thus influence the 
 lives of many persons. These are crude illustrations 
 of the social aspects of disease. When nearly every- 
 body is able to attend to his work, the social and 
 industrial machinery moves much more smoothly. 
 
 lis 
 
THE NECESSITY FOR BETTER HEALTH 119 
 
 Difference between ancient and modern times. — In 
 ancient society health was, except in cases of endemics 
 and epidemics, a matter largely within the power of 
 the individual. When he drank water from his own 
 spring and milk from his own cow, ate meat from his 
 own beef or pig, he could protect himself against 
 disease by being clean and killing only healthy ani- 
 mals. Now, when his water is carried over hill and 
 dale through many miles of pipe, when his milk is 
 brought from farms hundreds of miles away, and 
 when he gets his meat prepared and canned from 
 packing houses which send their goods all over the 
 globe — he may become a victim of disease without 
 knowing the reason why. 
 
 The demand for health is as strong as that for life. 
 How to live long has been the problem, and how to 
 live happily, that is, in good health, has been the 
 desire of the ages. Nearly all that man did was 
 directed toward finding an answer to these two ques- 
 tions. All of his economic and most of his religious 
 activities had a bearing on this matter. Life may be 
 hard and full of trouble, nevertheless man will cling 
 to it and try to prolong it as far as possible. The 
 conditions of life were much harder in the past than 
 at present, but even the slave preferred life to death, 
 notwithstanding the lash and the toil to which he 
 was constantly exposed. The love of life is inborn 
 in every creature, and the struggle for existence is 
 due to it. And to this struggle, in turn, is due what- 
 ever progress we have made. It meant exertion, sys- 
 tematic endeavor, and ultimately the development of 
 all that is good and worth while in civilization and 
 in ourselves. Whether life is short and miserable, or 
 
120 CHAPTER VII 
 
 long and healthy, has an important bearing on the 
 individual, history, and civilization. 
 
 Meaning of health. — William James once stated 
 that simply to live, breathe, and move should be a 
 delight. It is so at present only, or at least chiefly, 
 with healthy children. Good health means optimism 
 and buoyancy. It means courage and willingness to 
 attack difficult problems. What is called personal 
 magnetism is essentially nothing but high vitality. 
 It is alwrays a pleasure to meet a person who is full 
 of cheer and unbounded energy, overflowing with that 
 indefinable something called attractiveness, which is 
 largely the result of physical vigor, and which we 
 justly call "high spirits." For good health is con- 
 tagious in the sense that no one can escape its influ- 
 ence. It is this overflowing of "animal spirits" that 
 makes some children so perennially happy and so un- 
 accountably attractive. In the normally organized 
 society of the future this will be the privilege not 
 only of young children, but of youth, middle age, and 
 even old age. This is entirely possible if we change 
 our ideal of health from the mere avoidance of vale- 
 tudinarianism to that of exultant and exuberant vital- 
 ity, which may be not only conserved but increased. 
 
 Mental aspects of health. — Mentally there is a con- 
 siderable difference between a healthy and an un- 
 healthy person. The former is alert, wide-awake, 
 takes a keen interest in things, and delights in over- 
 coming difficulties. Nothing can daunt him; his whole 
 nature is resourceful, because it is resilient and adapt- 
 able. If there are too many obstacles in his path, 
 he seeks another way. But he never gives up. In 
 proportion as he succeeds his confidence and self- 
 
THE NECESSITY FOR BETTER HEALTH 121 
 
 reliance increase and he passes from one victory to 
 another. If reverses come he knows how to bear them 
 cheerfully, for he is certain of one thing — that he must 
 remain master of himself. He will not lose his soul. 
 Things are, after all, things; and man is man. It is 
 his business to master them, not be mastered by 
 them. "He that ruleth his own spirit is greater than 
 he that taketh a city." A true man will never permit 
 mere things to conquer him. He has himself, his 
 balance, his self-determination. His health enables 
 him to keep them. 
 
 It is different with the man in poor health. There 
 is a constant worry about this little slight or that 
 little loss. Now it is some trifling ailment which dis- 
 turbs the night's rest, again it is some insignificant 
 trouble of a friend. Worry has been called the disease 
 of the age, because so many people lose valuable 
 energy through caring too much for non-essentials. 
 The man of low vitality can not help himself, though. 
 His attitude is turned inward, because his body re- 
 quires constant attention, now here, now there. He 
 is never free to follow his desires, because he is afraid 
 of a break-down. A community in which poor health 
 prevails is characterized by sombreness and listless- 
 ness. Its attitude is apathetic and indifferent, while 
 that of a healthy one is alert and eager for progress. 
 
 Health and intellectuality. — In a purely intellectual 
 way there is, perhaps, a still greater difference between 
 men in poor and those in good health. It is true that 
 occasionally men in poor health have manifested great 
 intellectual power, like Herbert Spencer and Charles 
 Darwin. But in both of these cases there was a 
 healthy and vigorous youth based on sound structure; 
 
122 CHAPTER VII 
 
 a break-down in later life could impair only the virility 
 but not the constitution. Noted men, whose health 
 was poor due to some fault of structure, have been 
 either saints, poets or philosophers. They were not 
 investigators of the objective world, but gave us pic- 
 tures of the inner working of their often abnormal 
 souls. But the greatest even among these classes of 
 geniuses were healthy men, e. g., Moses and Jesus, 
 Goethe and Shakespeare, Kant and Hegel. The best 
 and most useful work for human welfare has been 
 done by men and women who enjoyed at least fair 
 health. Modern poets and philosophers are generally 
 healthy men and produce something wholesome ; sci- 
 entists are notably so, e. g., Pasteur and Virchow, 
 Edison and Marconi, to mention only a few. 
 
 Two cases of notably long and useful lives may 
 be mentioned. Alexander von Humboldt, a famous 
 traveler, philosopher and scientist in the first half of 
 the nineteenth century, reached the age of ninety-one 
 years, or about twice the average. These years were, 
 moreover, full of work; he was rarely ill, and always 
 in condition to perform life's duty with speed and 
 accuracy, thus accomplishing about four times as 
 much work as the average man in his profession. 
 A similar case is that of the French chemist Chevreul, 
 who died in 1889 at the age of 103, and was almost 
 to the day of his death busy as a laboratory experi- 
 menter, industrial chemist, university professor, writer 
 and lecturer. Centenarians in good health should not 
 be the exception, which at present they unfortunately 
 are; they should be the rule, and will be so as soon 
 as we attack life's problems seriously and scientific- 
 ally. For old men are essential to society, as a glance 
 at history and civilization will show. 
 
THE NECESSITY FOR BETTER HEALTH 123 
 
 Health and early history. — Vitality is measured by 
 the length and breadth of life. By the former is 
 meant the number of years lived, by the latter freedom 
 from morbidity. Both have had an important bearing 
 on history and civilization. Owning partly to un- 
 healthy climatic conditions and partly to almost con- 
 stant wars, most primitive communities consisted only 
 of young people. Youth is proverbially rash and 
 impetuous, easily offended, and appeased with diffi- 
 culty. Imagine a primitive community where the 
 oldest man is forty and the oldest woman thirty-five; 
 where the majority of the population is between fifteen 
 and thirty years of age; imagine also, that an offense 
 has been given to a member of such a tribe by a 
 neighboring clan — and you have all the conditions for 
 a feud which may last for generations. There is no 
 one to advise forbearance and adjustment of the 
 matter by some sort of primitive court ; there are only 
 the keenly felt insult and the hot desire to avenge it. 
 Youth is a spendthrift with life and cares little for 
 consequences. This means that in the camp of both 
 antagonists the combat will be kept up, renewed, and 
 finished only with the extermination or utter subjec- 
 tion of one of the belligerents. We need not go to 
 prehistoric times, though, to find the shortness of 
 life responsible for warlike conditions. From classical 
 antiquity and from Biblical times the same lesson is 
 brought home. All the leaders of both the Greek 
 and Trojan army were young men; the rank and file 
 were undoubtedly younger rather than older. The 
 youthful David was warlike and his restlessness sub- 
 sided only when he reached the age of fifty. 
 
 These cases are typical of what happened con- 
 
124 CHAPTER VIl 
 
 stantly. A man with a few companions would attack 
 a personal enemy. If he succeeded, his fame would 
 spread and soon a large host of followers would 
 gather around him from all over the l^nd. He was 
 then in a position to establish himself on a throne, 
 either an old one or a newly created one. He would 
 reign in glory for ten or fifteen years, only to be 
 supplanted by an ambitious son or a former follower. 
 The vicissitudes of the various kingdoms were due 
 largely to the short reigns of kings or chieftains who 
 had acquired power by military exploits while young, 
 but had to yield the leadership to younger men as 
 soon as they had passed the zenith of their physical 
 power at about the age of forty. Youth has always 
 tried to match its strength against others in ambitious 
 schemes. 
 
 Health, poetry and science. — Since youth is apt to 
 spend its energy in war, if conditions are even half- 
 way favorable, it has little time and no desire for 
 other pursuits. For a more comprehensive grasp on 
 life, greater maturity is required. It is interesting to 
 find that the moment conditions favor a longer life, 
 and older men begin to exert a greater influence on 
 tribal and national affairs, wars become less frequent. 
 The older men naturally love fighting less ; but the 
 chief contribution they make consists in a larger grasp 
 on conditions. They recognize that war means de- 
 struction of life and property, and try to avoid it. More 
 important, however, is the contribution which their 
 greater mental maturity makes to other spheres of 
 life. 
 
 It is a noteworthy fact that most poets are young, 
 and most scientists are old or middle-aged. The 
 
THE NECESSITY FOR BETTER HEALTH 125 
 
 exceptions to this rule are few. Why should this be? 
 The reasons are obvious. Impetuosity drives youth 
 to seek expression for its energy either in vehement 
 action or turbulent words. The emotions run high, 
 and poetry is the natural outlet for pent-up energy. 
 There is little inclination to occupy one's self with 
 outside matters in a calm and deliberate manner. 
 That is, however, the exact thing needed in science. 
 The layman does not realize what incredible patience 
 a scientist needs in solving a complex problem. It 
 requires not only months, but often years to perform 
 a single task. Darwin worked for twenty years on 
 the theory of evolution. The poet may write down 
 his feelings in a few hours, and the world may be 
 richer by a good lyric; the scientist arrives at useful 
 conclusions only after long deliberation. A great 
 scientific or philosophical truth which will benefit the 
 world is usually the result of mental maturity and a 
 fairly full experience of life, because a number of 
 factors have to be examined and balanced before 
 anything vitally important can be produced. 
 
 Factors of health. — The principal factors in pro- 
 ducing health are heredity, climate, food, housing, 
 sleep and exercise. About heredity nothing needs to 
 be said here beyond what was stated under Eugenics. 
 Most people sleep and exercise sufficiently, and for 
 special advice they should see a physician, because 
 these are personal matters. Climate, food, and hous- 
 ing are largely social matters, and need to be treated 
 briefly here. 
 
 Health and climate. — Climate, in the widest sense, 
 implies all the various features which nature furnishes 
 to man by way of providing conditions that may help 
 
126 CHAPTER VII 
 
 or hinder his endeavor to keep well and become strong. 
 These features may be briefly stated as : temperature, 
 moisture, wind, sunshine, and, to a certain extent at 
 least, topography, e. g., mountains, valleys, streams, 
 lakes, and plains. The only reason why climate is 
 considered here is its important bearing on history. 
 It is no exaggeration to say that whole libraries have 
 been written about the influence of climate on the fate 
 of mankind. It has been blamed for every ill of man 
 and credited with everything good in hi™- But here, 
 as in other things, the truth lies in the middle rather 
 than toward the extremes. Since civilization has 
 prospered, at least to a certain degree, in regions as 
 far apart as Mesopotamia and Norway, Yucatan and 
 Switzerland, there is reason to believe that climate is 
 not the only factor. Illinois and Southern Mongolia 
 lie in the same latitude and have the same mean tem- 
 perature, yet how diflferent their civilization! The 
 highlands of the Andes produced a civilization of 
 great importance, but so did the lowlands along the 
 Yangtze river in China. 
 
 When, moreover, we compare the past with the 
 present, the claim of the omnipotent influence of cli- 
 mate becomes still more problematical. Greece has 
 not changed to any noticeable extent since the time 
 of Pericles and Socrates ; the same Aegean sea washes 
 the bays and inlets ; the same hills and mountains vary 
 the landscape ; the sun of Homer is still shining upon 
 the shepherd of the hills; the temperature, the humid- 
 ity, the winds, and other features are practically the 
 same — yet, how different is the modern Greek popu- 
 lation from that of antiquity. Ancient art, science, 
 and philosophy flourished in Athens; she was the 
 
THE NECESSITY FOR BETTER HEALTH 127 
 
 torch-bearer of the world. Public-spirited citizens 
 devoted their energies to the welfare of the city- 
 states. Today there are strife and conspiracy, low 
 trade morals, and, until recently, little public safety. 
 Of culture there is none of an indigenous character; 
 what little there is comes from Paris, Berlin and 
 Vienna. In the same way ancient and modern Meso- 
 potamia offer an equally fertile comparison ; likewise 
 the Peru of the Incas with that of today, and the 
 Mexico of the Aztecs with that of Villa and Carranza. 
 Climate is important but not necessarily dominant. 
 The extremes of tropics and arctics are injurious, but 
 within the large regions lying between them are many 
 lands in which human welfare is determined largely 
 by human endeavor. There are too many cases in 
 history which controvert the claims of the climatolo- 
 gists as to the dominance of climate. Primitive man 
 was naturally more dependent on nature, and he was 
 influenced to a larger extent by her frowns and favors. 
 Civilized man has largely discounted these by his 
 ingenuity in solving the riddles of nature and by 
 making her subservient to his purposes. He has 
 proved his right to be human by changing his environ- 
 ment instead of being changed by it, like the animal. 
 He has made the tropics habitable, as may be proved 
 by the conquest of both endemics and epidemics cur- 
 rent formerly in parts of those regions. 
 
 Health and food. — There is coming into existence a 
 new science, dietetics, which aims to teach us how to 
 eat so as to live healthily and economically. The 
 human body may be considered a machine, the most 
 complicated and neatly adjusted in existence. Food 
 supplies not only the fuel used in running this ma- 
 
128 CHAPTER VII 
 
 chine, but also the material with which the wear and 
 tear must be replaced. Every engineer knows that 
 he cannot get the greatest efficiency out of his machine 
 unless he supplies the firebox with the best high-grade 
 coal. With dirty, low-grade coal the result is not up 
 to the standard, and when it contains a large amount 
 of sulphur and other impurities the life of the machine 
 is impaired. The short span of the average life in 
 past ages was due largely to the insufficiency of food 
 from the point of view of both quantity and quality. 
 This may have been excusable because people then 
 were poor and lacked knowledge. But what shall 
 be said of the present generation, whose food is com- 
 paratively abundant and of good quality and neverthe- 
 less treats the body as though it were a furnace which 
 receives anything without protest ? Every farmer knows 
 that horses, for instance, must have a variety of food 
 according to their use for draft, riding, or the carriage. 
 The Belgians feed their dogs according to occupation 
 in the hunt, drawing carts, or guarding houses. It is 
 only in man that the opposite condition is observed, 
 namely, that persons following the most diverse occu- 
 pations, whether day-laborers, brain-workers, scholars, 
 merchants, officials, clergymen, physicians, traveling 
 salesmen, field or factory workers — all of them, with 
 their dependents, take similar food. The diet should 
 vary according to the nature of the occupation and 
 the functions to be carried out, just as has always 
 been the custom with domestic animals. Man should 
 take at least as good care of himself as he does of his 
 animals. 
 
 Health and housing. — Housing, as a factor of 
 health, is mainly although not entirely a matter which 
 
THE NECESSITY FOR BETTER HEALTH 129 
 
 concerns cities. The chief problems connected with 
 it are those of providing fresh air and preventing 
 overcrowding. As long as man lived in the open, 
 perhaps in caves or on trees, the housing question 
 was simple in the extreme, since there was an abun- 
 dance of air. He might be cold or be scorched by the 
 hot sun; but he was never subject to devitalization 
 through bad air. The problem of ventilation arose 
 when man was sufficiently advanced to build houses, 
 even though they were of the crudest bind, because 
 the free entrance of air was at once interfered with 
 and new problems arose as how to keep well in these 
 enclosed spaces. The problem of ventilation is stiil 
 unsolved, as is shown by the many new schemes pro- 
 posed almost daily. It may seem easy enough to 
 circulate air through a building ; the difficulty consists 
 in doing it without creating a draft. City dwellers 
 have almost gotten out of the habit of enjoying an 
 abundance of fresh air, as was evidenced by the sol- 
 diers of our National Army in 1917-18, who suffered 
 greatly from colds, catarrh and pneumonia while liv- 
 ing in cantonments. They improved greatly in health 
 and in strength as soon as they became accustomed 
 to the larger supply of fresh air, both outdoors and 
 indoors. 
 
 Health and congestion. — The problem of congestion 
 is somewhat different from that of ventilation. It 
 consists in overcrowding either per acre or per room. 
 Congestion per acre is found chiefly in large cities, 
 while that per room may be and is often found in 
 country districts and even in barbarous communities. 
 The two-room farmhouse or the "dugout" of the fron- 
 tier districts mean as a rule overcrowding. The 
 
130 CHAPTER VII 
 
 Igorotes, in the province of Benguet, northern part of 
 the island of Luzon, were in the habit of closing their 
 very small doors during the rainy season with its 
 sometimes fairly cold nights, lighting a wood fire and 
 going to sleep in the heat and smoke. By three or 
 four o'clock in the morning the heat would be gone 
 but the smoke would still be there, vitiating the air. 
 The result was that affections of the eyes, throat and 
 lungs were common, and health was generally poor. 
 A similar situation used to exist on board ship, where 
 sailors were often crowded into the poorly ventilated 
 forecastle by night or by day, allowing only 100 cubic 
 feet per sailor and giving rise to much pneumonia 
 and tuberculosis, notwithstanding the otherwise 
 healthy life at sea. These conditions on board ship 
 are now being remedied through legislation; but con- 
 ditions in cities are still very bad. 
 
 At least 400 cubic feet of space per inmate are 
 required in order to maintain physical efficiency. Even 
 this minimum is reached only in the better class tene- 
 ments, while in the poorer ones it is often below. A 
 few cases may be given as illustrations: The Pitts- 
 burg survey of 1907-8 revealed instances of over- 
 crowding startling in their intensity. These Pittsburg 
 tenement rooms were small — as large as a small bed- 
 room — yet, in one of these there lived a man, his wife, 
 a baby, and two boarders. Another apartment of three 
 rooms housed a man. wife and baby in the kitchen, 
 two boarders in the second room, while the third room 
 was sub-let to a man, wife, a child, and two boarders. 
 This third room was small, but contained two beds, 
 a stove, table, trunks and chairs. In the Slavic lodg- 
 ing houses for single men, beds stood as close as floor 
 
THE NECESSITY FOR BETTER HEALTH 131 
 
 space would permit, two sets of men using the beds 
 alternately by night and day, some men even sleeping 
 on the floor. The writer has seen similar crowding 
 in small industrial towns in eastern Ohio, the condi- 
 tions being aggravated by the fact that the beds were 
 in two tiers. In construction camps, bunks are built 
 in tiers, in unventilated or poorly ventilated buildings, 
 without sanitary conveniences or even necessities. 
 Still these men at least get all the fresh air they need 
 when at work, while the workers in the steel mills are 
 exposed to noxious fumes and gases nearly all the 
 time. 
 
 The problem of large cities is different still. Not 
 only are rooms overcrowded, but whole acres and 
 large districts. New York presents by far the most 
 abnormally congested conditions of any American 
 city. In 1905 the density of Manhattan Island (New 
 York proper) was 150 people per acre; but in 122 
 blocks it was 750. and in 38 blocks it exceeded 1,000. 
 In Chicago the highest density per acre was, until 
 recently, 206 persons per acre; in St. Louis — on an 
 area of 48 blocks — about 180, and in one ward of 
 Boston 192 per acre. 
 
 "People may conceivably live 1,000 per acre and still 
 maintain efficiency. A stable and varied diet of good 
 food, light, ventilation, and sanitation might easily 
 negative most of the bad results of 1,000-per-acre 
 living. Mere congestion per acre does not present a 
 serious problem — it is the evils which accompany 
 acre-congestion that make the social reformer hesitate 
 and ponder. Men and women in the New York tene- 
 ments suffer, not because they are close to their 
 neighbors, but because the tenements are so co»« 
 
132 CHAPTER VII 
 
 structed as to exclude from large numbers of rooms 
 any adequate air-supply and to prevent the entrance 
 of the sunlight into many corners of the buildings. 
 To one who has seen such a seven-story East Side 
 tenement, it is perfectly obvious that the sunlight 
 cannot penetrate below the fourth or the fifth story 
 through the narrow airshafts and courts which the 
 law requires. Overcrowding is therefore a serious 
 problem in New York, and a less serious one, but still 
 a problem in many of the large cities of the United 
 States." '■ 
 
 Tenement houses occupy in some cases from 80 
 to 90 per cent of the lot area. Twenty families are 
 crowded upon a spot where a generation ago there 
 was but one. Whole families live in one-, two-, or 
 three-room tenements, into many rooms of which the 
 sun never shines. Frequently boarders are added to 
 eke out the rent. The plumbing is bad ; the bathroom 
 is a luxury enjoyed but by a few. The washing, iron- 
 ing, cooking, eating, sleeping, the rearing of the chil- 
 dren, and the care of the sick — one or two rooms 
 .suffices for it all. Millions have become cliff-dwellers, 
 ready to move at a moment's notice from a bad tene- 
 ment to one worse for non-payment of rent. But 
 always there is the same contaminated air. The tene- 
 ment may be kept clean — in many cases it is almost 
 spotless; but bacteria will breed in the hallways, in 
 the alleys, and in the sunless court. Darkness and 
 dampness prevail, and these are favorable to disease- 
 germs, chiefly those of tuberculosis and throat affec- 
 tions. For one not accustomed to such places it is 
 impossible to sleep there without contracting violent 
 
 1 Scott Nearing, S ial Adjustment, pp. 104-5. The Macmillan Com- 
 pany, 1911. 
 
THE NECESSITY FOR BETTER HEALTH 133 
 
 headaches. Bodily vigor cannot be maintained with- 
 out fresh air, and fresh air, in many New York tene- 
 ments, is an impossibility. 
 
 Death is a frequent visitor to the tenements. Con- 
 gestion and mortality go hand in hand. The children 
 and the babies are the most frequent sufferers. Born 
 of parents weakened by lack of sunlight, fresh air, 
 and proper food, perhaps overworked as well as over- 
 crowded, they have but a feeble hold on life at the 
 start; the moist, germ-laden air soon introduces all 
 kinds of bacteria into the system to sap the already 
 low vitality. To have six children, and to rear but 
 one to adult age is not a rare occurrence. To return 
 from the putrid air of the workshop to the almost 
 equally bad atmosphere of the crowded rooms called 
 home by courtesy only is apt to devitalize the strong- 
 est man or woman. 
 
 Remedies. — Some changes for the better are being 
 made. The enlightened part of the city could not 
 stand by and see people condemned to death en masse. 
 Over $750,000,000 have been expended within ten 
 years in New York City for better tenements.^ They 
 contain 312,000 apartments and house 1,500,000 people. 
 Most of them have light and air in every room, with 
 running water in each apartment, and private toilets. 
 About 80 per cent of the apartments have bath-tubs. 
 The Tenement House Act of 1901 required, in addi- 
 tion to the improvements mentioned, protection 
 through fire-escapes, and, in many cases, fire-proof 
 stairs. 
 
 The trouble with these well-meant endeavors to 
 
 1 The Modern City and its Problems, Frederick C. Howe ; Scribner's 
 Sons, 1915, p. 279. 
 
134 CHAPTER VII 
 
 overcome a bad situation is that all these improve- 
 ments have to be paid for; the landlord naturally 
 raises the rent, and this means that in many cases 
 there results even more crowding. Another difficulty 
 lies in the larger revenue at comparatively smaller 
 cost of a five and six-story tenement house compared 
 to one of two or three; this means less air and sun- 
 light, notwithstanding certain advantages along other 
 lines. It means chiefly more crowded and darker 
 streets for the children who have, as a rule, no place 
 close by for play. 
 
 A solution for this situation must be found, if the 
 health of the community is not to be afifected seriously. 
 For, owing to the increase of urban population com- 
 pared to the rural, an ever larger number of people 
 is coming under the adverse conditions of life in city 
 tenements. The "garden cities" and manufacturing 
 villages have solved the problem in a small way. But 
 more must be done ; it is a situation created by society 
 and can be solved if a determined effort is made. 
 The one thing that must be kept in mind is that no 
 problem created by society is insoluble; whenever 
 men have seriously attacked a difificulty in a spirit of 
 earnest confidence, it has yielded. 
 
 Not so many years ago death was considered a 
 matter beyond man's control. Now we know that 
 thousands of deaths may be avoided, and succeed. 
 England and Wales had a death-rate of 21.2 per 1,000 
 from 1866-70; it dropped to 13.5 from 1910-14. This 
 means a difiference of 7.7 per 1,000; or 77,000 per 
 1,000,000, or about 3,500,000 for the United Kingdom. 
 Similar results have been obtained elsewhere. What 
 is more important yet is the fact that the progressive 
 
THE NECESSITY FOR BETTER HEALTH 136 
 
 men in every community are alive to the importance 
 of the situation. Physicians, statesmen, and social 
 workers are co-operating in educating the public with 
 fair success; some remedies are applied, and new 
 measures for avoiding disease and lengthening life 
 are discovered almost daily. What is needed is to lay 
 greater emphasis on health as a social factor ; not here 
 and there, not now advocating this measure and then 
 some other, but an ideal of health for the whole com- 
 munity ; not merely absence of specific ailment requir- 
 ing medical care, but a definite aim to utilize all the 
 scientific means at our disposal and to procure others, 
 i** order that avoidable disease may be looked upon 
 ^s morally reprehensible and good health as socially 
 praiseworthy. As a public recognition every civilized 
 country should establish a department of health for 
 directing all measures pertaining to the conservation 
 of human vitality. 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 THE NEW SOCIAL CONTROL 
 
 A new attitude in social control. — Every society 
 has in various ways attempted to control the actions 
 of its members so as not to be harmful to other mem- 
 bers. The aim has always been negative, and the 
 means taken have often been suppiessive, if not de- 
 structive to individuality. This procedure was, per- 
 haps, necessary as long as society merely tried to live 
 and protect itself against dangers from unknown pow- 
 ers in the form of spirits who were supposed to control 
 the doings of men. The real purpose of these forces 
 could, of course, never be known by man, hence he 
 had to content himself with means of restraint and 
 restriction. Now that we have come to know that our 
 .ate is in our own hands, we should recognize that 
 efifective control can be exercised only through a more 
 fully developed personality. 
 
 Professor Ross has made, perhaps, the most ex- 
 haustive study of this matter ever attempted,^ and a 
 very brief survey of his book will be necessary. In 
 the multiplicity and complexity of human activities 
 some sort of order or co-operation is necessary if 
 conflicts are to be avoided. Some men voluntarily 
 avoid collisions with others, owing to their submissive 
 attitude. The pugnacious, however, welcome conflicts. 
 Under either condition there is no social order. In 
 the first case there is peace, but under a tyranny ; in 
 the second, war. Social order means the adjustment 
 
 1 Social Control, A Study of the Foundations of Order, by Edward 
 Alsworth Ross, Macmillan Company, 1910. 
 
 136 
 
THE NEW SOCIAL CONTROL 137 
 
 of activities in such a way that conflicts either do 
 not occur, or may be settled according to a regular 
 procedure which safe-guards the interests of all. The 
 means of social control are public opinion, law, belief, 
 suggestion through education or custom, religion, 
 ideals, ceremony, art, prominent personalities, enlight- 
 enment and illusion, social valuations, and ethics. The 
 dififerent systems of control have been chiefly in the 
 hands of various parasitic classes whose aim was the 
 exploitation of the many; they invented all kinds of 
 devices to keep themselves in power, but had to be 
 fertile in invention because changes in social condi- 
 tions required constant adaptations. Eventually, how- 
 ever, the many gained more rights, and control became 
 more diffuse. 
 
 Restriction and control. — The problem of control 
 presents itself to Professor Ross all through as one 
 of restriction, curbing, and subordination. It is small 
 wonder that he is pessimistic about the outlook in 
 view of the increasingly greater share taken by the 
 many in , control. For, if the multitude had to be 
 managed somehow in the past, what can and will 
 they do when they get control not only over their own 
 fate but that of their former oppressors? To quote: 
 
 "I confess that no light responsibility is laid upon 
 the investigator who explores the mysterious processes 
 that take place in the soul of a people, and dissects 
 in public the ideals and affirmations elaborated in the 
 social mind. The fact of control is, in good sooth, 
 no gospel to be preached abroad with allegory and 
 parable, with bold type and scare headlines. The 
 secret of order is not to be bawled from every house- 
 top. The wise sociologist will show religion a con- 
 
138 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 sideration it has rarely met with from the naturalist. 
 He will venerate a moral system too much to uncover 
 its nakedness. He will speak to men, not to youth. 
 He will address himself to those who administer the 
 moral capital of society — to teachers, clergymen, edi- 
 tors, law-makers, and judges, who wield the instru- 
 ments of control ; to poets, artists, thinkers, educators, 
 who guide the human caravan across the waste. In 
 this way he will make himself an accomplice of all 
 good men for the undoing of all bad men." ^ 
 
 Man forgotten over measures. — All through the 
 ages men have been managed and exploited by the 
 few through some system — the more definite and 
 concise the better. Even now those who earnestly 
 desire the welfare of the many and of society in 
 general still talk of measures to be taken, rather than 
 of men to be created and developed. The new schemes 
 and programs which are published are, literally speak- 
 ing, legion. Each of them is more or less definite 
 and its author expects it to produce certain specific 
 results, notwithstanding the experience of repent his- 
 tory to the effect that, as often as not, either nothing 
 has come of it or the very opposite of what was 
 intended has been produced. Systems are imposed 
 from without, not developed from within. Man who 
 is to be their beneficiary, is forgotten in the process. 
 He is interpreted in terms of something else, instead 
 of in those of himself, and — he suflFers; not, perhaps, 
 because he knows definitely what ails him, but rather 
 because in a sub-conscious way he feels that things 
 are not as they ought to be. His innermost craving 
 is for development and his deepest desire for self- 
 
 1 Op. cit., p. +«. 
 
THE NEW SOCIAL CONTROL 139 
 
 expression ; but in both he is balked by the everlasting 
 systems imposed upon him. He is dynamic, chang- 
 ing) getting new points of view, acquiring more nu- 
 merous and more refined wants; the system is static, 
 confining, and circumscribing; it is all this and more 
 because it is based on the conception that the beast 
 in man must be tamed and controlled. It takes a 
 negative instead of a positive view of man. The 
 theological view of man as a rebel and totally depraved 
 by "original sin" is still with us. 
 
 Man suppressed, not developed. — And that is the 
 fundamental error in most social views. Early relig- 
 ion took man in hand and abased him in sack cloth 
 and ashes; custom and social inertia held him down; 
 in the family, woman was oppressed ; work was looked 
 upon as menial and degrading, although it was the 
 only means for developing the individual,; if he was 
 sickly, he might, in times not long past, acquire the 
 odor of sanctity. What we need is a self-reliant in- 
 dividual who aims deliberately at progressive improve- 
 ment, selects a partner for life on the basis of respect 
 for his or her personality in order to improve the 
 human stock not only physically but mentally, seeks 
 to establish his place among his fellows by performing 
 some well-directed and useful work, and tries to in- 
 crease his power for service and happiness by improv- 
 ing his health. Such an individual has the willingness 
 and the physical ability to make the necessary adapta- 
 tions to meet new conditions. He has surplus energy 
 and will not wait till "things happen," but will go out 
 and make them happen. He is, in short, a man with 
 an integral self, and social control must eventually 
 be based on that conception. 
 
140 CHAPTER VUI 
 
 Relation of individual to society. — Historically, this 
 idea is but of recent development. In antiquity, not 
 to mention prehistoric times, the relation of the in- 
 dividual was merely that of a part to the whole; he 
 did not feel as if he had rights, neither were they 
 granted to him. He was totally dependent on society, 
 and lived almost as an organic part in a whole. His 
 consciousness was very largely a mere reflection of 
 the consciousness of the clan. This was the case even 
 in Greece. In Sparta the free man had only the right 
 to fight and bring up children for the state — ^all this 
 under close supervision ; the helots had none whatever. 
 In Athens the control of the state was not so rigid, 
 but the only question concerning an individual was 
 his relation to the state. There is, consequently, no 
 biography in Greek literature until the time when the 
 Lives of Plutarch appeared. Intellectual property 
 was unknown, and inscriptions, whether on public 
 buildings or private gravestones, referred only to 
 service of the state. Plato's Republic shows the 
 complete domination of the state over the individual; 
 his Laws modified that attitude only in details. 
 
 During the Middle Ages the individual was either a 
 member of a tribe or later of the church, and rights 
 existed only in that connection. The jus naturale of 
 the Romans, more theoretical than practical even 
 among them, was not even recognized in theory while 
 the church held sway. 
 
 During the eighteenth century there was a violent 
 reaction toward extreme individualism and an atom- 
 istic view of society. There was no bond between 
 the "enlightened" and the ignorant, the employer and 
 the employee, except economic necessity. Self-culture 
 
THE NEW SOCIAL CONTROL 141 
 
 was the aim of every aspirant for social honors. This 
 extreme individualism has remained a vital part of 
 life to this day, and has, in its turn, produced a strong 
 reaction toward socialism. Where, then, is the truth? 
 
 Biological aspects of the individual. — The individual 
 may be looked at from three points of view, the bio- 
 logical, philosophical and social. As a biological en- 
 tity, every individual is unique. To quote a biologist : 
 
 "As a result of the permutations of ancestral char- 
 acters, the appearance of mutations, and the fluctua- 
 tions of organisms due to environmental changes, it 
 happens that in all cases offspring differ more or less 
 from their parents and from one another. No two 
 children of the same family are exactly alike (except 
 in the case of identical twins which come from the 
 same oosperm). Every living being appears, on care- 
 ful examination, to be the first and last of its identical 
 kind. This is one of the most remarkable peculiarities 
 of living things. The elements of chemistry are con- 
 stant, and even the compounds fall into definite cate- 
 gories which have constant characteristics. But the 
 individuals of biology are apparently never twice the 
 same. This may be due to the immense complexity 
 of living units as contrasted with chemical ones, 
 indeed, lack of constancy is evidence in itself of lack 
 of analysis into real elements or of lack of uniform 
 conditions; but whatever its cause the extraordinary 
 fact remains that every living being appears to be 
 unique." ^ 
 
 This uniqueness of the individual has in the past 
 never been kept in mind. The members of a society 
 
 1 E. D. Conklin, Hpredity and Environment in the DeTelopment oi 
 Men, p. 213; Princeton University Press, 1915. 
 
142 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 •were divided up into classes and castes, either accord- 
 ing to birth, wealth, knowledge, occupation or some 
 other standard. Hence it was inevitable that an 
 individual should be looked at merely as a member of 
 a class, and judged by it. According to the class 
 which was in control, some particular virtue was made 
 the standard, and the other classes were grouped in 
 proportion as they approached it or departed from it. 
 But always the individual was supposed to be merely 
 a duplicate of some class consciousness. 
 
 Philosophical aspects of the individual. — Philo- 
 sophically the following definition may be given: 
 "The individual is a concrete existence which is indi- 
 visible because organized into a co-ordinated, or pur- 
 posive, unity."" 
 
 What is this purpose? It can plainly be only the 
 modificaiton, in whatever slight degree, of the generic 
 qualities of the species. For, while the individual is 
 unique, he is on the average more like his kind than 
 like anything else. His uniqueness consists in being 
 a slight variation from what may be called, for lack 
 of a better term, the average or normal, or what he 
 has in common with every other individual of his 
 species. If this variation is an improvement on the 
 general pattern of the average, there is slight progress, 
 otherwise stagnation or retrogression. The higher one 
 goes in the scale of living beings, the greater should 
 this individual variation be, because the number and 
 variety of factors which enter into the combination 
 increase. There should, for instance, be more varia- 
 tion from a type, that is, more individuality, in the 
 case of a lion or a horse, than in the case of a shad or 
 
 2 Wm. Forbes Cooley, The Individual, A metaphysical Inquiry, p. 20; 
 The Science Press, New York, 1909. 
 
THE NEW SOCIAL CONTROL 143 
 
 a frog. Coming to human beings, individuality ought 
 to be still more marked, and among the more civilized 
 one would expect it to be more pronounced than 
 among savages. This expectation is true to fact, both 
 among the higher animals and more advanced men. 
 And thus we come to the relation of the individual to 
 society. 
 
 In the past this relation was always conceived to 
 be antagonistic, hence various means had to be devised 
 to keep the majority under control. To quote Pro- 
 fessor Ross again : 
 
 "The reader may have wondered sometimes if it is 
 not rash to lift the veil from those sacred recesses 
 where are prepared the convictions and sentiments by 
 which society holds together. To expose the anti- 
 nomies and moralities in all their nakedness as so 
 many ways of luring a man from the pursuit of his 
 individual welfare, is surely to subvert all control that 
 does not rest on force." ^ 
 
 Why should a man have to be "lured from the 
 pursuit of his individual welfare" if he lives in society ? 
 Is it to his advantage to live alone? Is society the 
 enemy of man as Rousseau taught, and the anarchists 
 shout from the soap boxes? If so, may a friendly 
 comet sweep us into eternal oblivion! Again, what 
 is the relation of the individual to society? 
 
 Social aspects of the individual. — The human in- 
 dividual is a unique combination of the qualities of 
 the genus homo, and finds his completion in associa- 
 tion with his fellow-men. If the individual is a unique 
 biological entity, and is organized into a co-ordinated 
 or purposive unity philosophically, there must be some 
 
 1 Op. cit., pp. 4h0 and 441. 
 
144 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 purpose luring him on. This can be no other than 
 his own completion as a physical and mental unity. 
 Hence the insistence on good health of the body as 
 a ready instrument of the mind. Being unique, he 
 must have some particular want which can be met 
 only by special activities. This want can only be the 
 perfection of his own individuality, through activity 
 fostering whatever may be distinctive of himself. He 
 must, however, live before he can live in his own par- 
 ticular way. Hence a division of labor is necessary. 
 He must produce something which others cannot pro- 
 duce, and exchange it for something which he needs, 
 but cannot produce so well as they. In this way he 
 will not only live, but live in his own particular way, 
 and find satisfaction. 
 
 An illustration may, perhaps, make this clearer. A 
 boy has a strong desire to become a great violinist. 
 The fulfilment requires time and money. In a society 
 where everyone has to provide his own means of liv- 
 ing, ninety-nine per cent of his time would be taken 
 up in that process, and his desire would be frustrated. 
 Where division of labor exists, and, on the basis of it, 
 some property has been accumulated, he is able to 
 devote himself to the cultivation of his talent, and 
 repay society later by his musical performances. The 
 objection may be raised, of course, that in a primitive 
 society a boy would not have the desire to become a 
 violinist. That is true. But he might want to whistle 
 or whittle, and charm his friends by the perfection of 
 a melody oi- the production of a beautifully carved 
 club. He could not even do that if he had to hustle 
 for a living in the same way as everybody else. 
 
 In the past this is exactly what happened. Only a 
 
THE NEW SOCIAL CONTROL 14S 
 
 very small number of human beings had an oppor- 
 tunity to live their lives in their own way. These 
 were the chieftains and perhaps the priests. Hence 
 measures of repression were necessary by which the 
 whole social fabric became warped. For the nature 
 of the rulers necessarily changed for the worse by 
 resorting to measures of suppression, and the op- 
 pressed were inevitably cast into an attitude of gloom 
 even when they were not cast into a dungeon. The 
 balked desires to live for the perfection of whatever 
 talent one had, must have been much more numerous 
 than they are to-day. These may not have been clearly 
 articulate, but we know the tremendous difference 
 between a man who has found his work and enjoys it, 
 and the one who, although successful at what he is 
 doing, is not working along the line of his natural 
 endowment. It is the difference between occupation 
 and vocation. The one provides a living, the other a 
 living plus satisfaction. 
 
 Talent and opportunity. — That there was little divi- 
 sion of labor in the past is no argument against the 
 existence of a difference in natural endowment. Op- 
 portunity does not create talent, it merely brings it 
 out. Too many modern instances are known of men 
 who but for a happy chance might have died unknown, 
 and the world would be poorer by the loss of some 
 ^reat achievement. "One shudders to think how nar- 
 rowly Newton escaped being an unknown farmer, or 
 Faraday an obscure bookbinder, or Pasteur a provin- 
 cial tanner. In the history of the world there must 
 have been many men of equal native endowments who 
 missed the slender chance which came to these. We 
 ferm the habit of thinking of great men as having 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 appeared only at long intervals, and yet we know 
 that great crises always discover great men. What 
 does this mean but that the men are ready formed 
 and that it requires only this extra stimulus to call 
 them forth? To most of us heredity is kind — kinder 
 than we know. The possibilities within us are great, 
 but they rarely come to full epiphany." ^ 
 
 Neither will the objection hold that there is not 
 a sufficient variety of talents. They may be dormant. 
 As a rule only those energies are developed for which 
 there is a specified call. In the past there was a call 
 for few gifts, and only few developed. With increas- 
 ing division of labor, new talents are developed by 
 being given an opportunity. The time may come soon 
 when in a well-organized society every individual will 
 be able to do his own work. That will enable him to 
 make a decent living because he will be more produc- 
 tive and have somewhat of a monopoly, and he will 
 at the same time have satisfaction. The aim before 
 society is, consequently, not to repress but to develop 
 individuality, since progress and social cohesion can 
 be secured in no other way. 
 
 Animal species may have social cohesion owing to 
 blood kinship, habit, inertia, or economic need. There 
 is, however, no progress, since each makes its living 
 in the same way. Individuality is, consequently, less 
 developed, and social groups are very small as a rule, 
 because the individual needs few of his own kind for 
 completion. The most independent animals are, more- 
 over, not the most happy. The predaceous lion or 
 tiger lives alone, is grouchy, and easily incensed ; the 
 lively squirrels living in groups seem to be much 
 happier. 
 
 1 Coiidlja. op. dfc, pp. 474 and 47S. 
 
THE NEW SOCIAL CONTROL 147 
 
 Society recognizes individuality. — Society has al- 
 ways in some dim way recognized the importance of 
 the individual. It put a value on him, although here 
 as elsewhere practice lagged far behind theory. The 
 early tribes forbade the killing of a member, and par- 
 ticularly that of a leader, be he chief or medicine man. 
 This meant the recognition of uniqueness as evidenced 
 by special services at least in the case of prominent 
 members. The apotheosis of these men has the same 
 basis. Then came religion in the form of Christianity 
 and put an eternal value on every human being, 
 whether economically productive or not. This was 
 supplemented much later, after the extension of social 
 consciousness, by giving him a universal value. At 
 least in theory a man's life is now deemed sacred by 
 all civilized nations, the reasons being partly religious 
 and partly economic. This valuation is also expressed 
 in the demand for universal education, because each 
 individual is supposed to have some talent worth 
 developing. The same tendency manifests itself polit- 
 ically in democratic forms of government; and the 
 latest movement is toward industrial democracy, that 
 is, toward the recognition of the uniqueness of every 
 man in his work. In regard to the last, a few words 
 need to be said. 
 
 Work and individuality. — The tendency of the 
 Greeks to look upon manual labor with disdain, has, 
 to a certain extent at least, survived to this day. They 
 not only refrained from productive physical exertion, 
 but hired their dancers and musicians, because a free 
 man could not engage in such activities without losing 
 caste. The actors, for instance, were, down to a com- 
 paratively late age, held in strong disesteem, even in 
 
148 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 England and France. The tables have, however, com- 
 pletely turned, because acting, music and dancing 
 have been raised to the level of arts ; and the men and 
 women in each of these three arts, who have reached 
 the top of their profession, are social favorites. Busi- 
 ness, too, and even writing, were held beneath the 
 dignity of a gentleman as late as Walter Scott's times. 
 The nineteenth century saw a complete change in both 
 occupations. The reason for all of these reversals in 
 valuation have not been economic only, but psychical. 
 As was explained in the chapter on the Spiritualization 
 of Work, there is a vast difference between toil, labor 
 and work. Toil everybody hates, and relegates it to a 
 machine, but labor has to be done, although no one 
 loves it. Each man is ambitious to work, i. e., to 
 arrange his activities according to a more or less well- 
 defined plan to give expression to his own talent. It 
 is this intellectual element which has been injected 
 into the five occupations mentioned that has raised 
 them to the rank of professions. They have become 
 the expression of a free individuality, delighting to 
 develop its talent in those particular ways. Man has 
 increasingly put the emphasis on the amount of intel- 
 lectuality in his performance as he advanced from the 
 lower to the higher stages of civilization. Even war 
 is no longer a matter of fists but of wits. May it not 
 be possible to raise many forms of labor to the rank 
 of semi-professions and thus relieve them from the 
 social stigma of inferiority? This labor needs to be 
 done, and will be done only by the socially lowest as 
 long as it is held in contempt. Nationally our policy 
 has been to import laborers by immigration from dif- 
 ferent countries ; their children have moved out of the 
 
THE NEW SOCIAL CONTROL 149 
 
 Knanual labor class, and we have had to tap a new res- 
 ervoir every two or three decades. We shall soon be at 
 the end of our resources, unless coolies from China and 
 India are admitted. These will either have to be held 
 in bondage, which is contrary to all our convictions, 
 or they will have to be free, which means the over- 
 running of our country with racial elements that can- 
 not be assimilated, because they are unused to free 
 institutions. Already a heavy price has been paid in 
 the form of racial deterioration by this country for its 
 contempt of manual labor. The only remedy lies in 
 a change of attitude. The free American must become 
 willing to wield the pick and shovel, and that can be 
 done only if the social stigma is removed. It is a 
 question of our national future. 
 
 Individual dynamic unity. — The individual is, then, 
 a unity which can find its completion only through 
 society. He can develop an integral self only through 
 interdependence with others. This means that he 
 must give and take. He can give only what he has, 
 i. e., what his uniqueness enables him to contribute; 
 and he can receive only in proportion as he under- 
 stands and appreciates what society offers. He must, 
 consequently, be both individualized and socialized ; he 
 must be teacher and pupil alternately. If so, he is at 
 harmony with himself and his environment. Thi& 
 harmony is, however, never complete, because he is 
 growing and expanding, and his surroundings are con- 
 stantly changing. What satisfied hirti yesterday is no 
 longer satisfactory today; and his adaptation to so- 
 ciety today will be insufficient tomorrow. He is thus 
 developing constantly, and learns that what is unat- 
 tainable now may become an achievement in the 
 
150 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 future. He bridges the chasm between desire and 
 attainment by faith based on experience. That is, at 
 least, what the normal individual does, and it is he 
 alone who is under consideration. With him the 
 desire for harmony is inborn, since he is spiritual by 
 nature. 
 
 Individual must have harmony. — Unity requires 
 harmony within itself. Man is not merely a composi- 
 tion of more or less connected parts, but a co-ordinated 
 whole. If so, he must strive for balance and self- 
 control. The conception of temperance among the 
 Greeks meant that no part of man should get a larger 
 portion of attention than its due in proportion to its 
 station in a graded scale. That part of man, which 
 generally craves and usually gets a larger share of 
 attention than its due, is the body, particularly the 
 instincts of sex and hunger. In order to maintain his 
 balance, man sets himself to work to educate the 
 senses and to control his appetites, but not to suppress 
 or mutilate them. The ascetic who starves his body 
 is as great a sinner as the glutton and libertine who 
 indulge it to excess. The man who wants to be in 
 harmony with himself must strive to make his body 
 a fit instrument of the mind, a capable agent of the 
 spirit. This requires health and work. 
 
 In regard to the mind, the desire for harmony within 
 himself demands that the intellect, the will, and the 
 emotions — to use the traditional terms — should be 
 developed in proper proportion. While the emotions 
 are and must be the motive force in man, the intellect 
 is and must always remain the directing agent; the 
 former furnish the steam, the latter the helm for the 
 ship. Excess in either direction is harmful ; emotional 
 
THE NEW SOCIAL CONTROL 151 
 
 people become the prey of more intellectual persons, 
 and the too intellectual lose their ability for enjoy- 
 ment; those who are too pronouncedly volitional are 
 apt to consider only their own plans. Symmetry be- 
 tween the three makes the balanced man who keeps 
 himself always under control. 
 
 Individual must have harmony with social environ- 
 ment. — Unity requires the harmony of man with his 
 social environment. A person striving for an integral 
 self is constantly disturbed by the fact that he meets 
 unsocialized and de-individualized members in society. 
 The thought is unbearable to him that there should 
 exist mere wrecks of human beings so near him, and 
 he bends his energies to remedy the situation. He 
 endeavors to socialize the instinctive and professional 
 criminals, and to give them a true consciousness of 
 kind, in place of the atavistic one they have. He also 
 attempts to individualize the psuedo-social class, like 
 the congenital and habitual paupers. His sense for 
 harmony demands even a restoration, if possible, of 
 the degraded who are either paupers or criminals and 
 have lost both self-respect and social instincts. 
 
 The presence of human wrecks always fills us with 
 a sense of shame, because we feel that either we or 
 society have not lived up to our opportunities. It is 
 painful to see or even hear of degraded human beings, 
 and our work in restoring them to a normal condition 
 is always done with some hesitancy and comparatively 
 little enthusiasm; perhaps because we are aware of 
 the fact that our endeavor is curative merely and may 
 be useless. Only exceptional persons are able to en- 
 dure the strain of philanthropic work for many years, 
 - Curative and preventive measures. — The man who 
 
152 CHAPTER VIlI 
 
 would realize his desire for an integral self turns, 
 therefore, from curative to preventive measures. He 
 wants to shape conditions by proper co-ordination in 
 such a way that these things shall not happen again. 
 His telic attitude manifests itself in a "sizing up" 
 of the whole situation, and he tries to introduce im- 
 provements not only here and there, but to recast 
 society along rational lines. He becomes interested 
 in eugenics, sanitation, industry, education, govern- 
 ment, humanitarian institutions, and anything else 
 which may help men to become integral selves. This 
 attitude has been the great missionary force, some- 
 what unconscious and fragmentary in the highest 
 forms of religion, more purposeful and complete in 
 the various social systems proposed within the last 
 century, and now by a combination of both. 
 
 Individual must have harmony with physical en- 
 vironment. — Unity, finally, demands the harmony of 
 man with his physical environment. The sense of 
 completion may be put in danger by occurrences in 
 nature; our peace, our health, our lives, or those of 
 our fellowmen may be threatened. Man must define 
 his attitude toward nature. He may do so either by 
 submission or conquest. 
 
 Harmony by submission. — Submission means non- 
 interference, resignation, self-denial, and accommo- 
 dation. It is a passive policy, and has in its best 
 forms the object to save one's so-called higher self at 
 the expense of the lower. It is, however, more often a 
 mere pretense, a veiled selfishness, and always an act 
 of cowardice, whether with Diogenes who repressed 
 his physical wants to the lowest possible minimum, 
 or with Simon Stylites who fled the world that he 
 
THE NEW SOCIAL CONTROL 153 
 
 might save. his none too voluminous soul. The un- 
 complaining acceptance of outer conditions, or the 
 silent accommodation of oneself to meet them, are 
 indications of an inferior type of man. The policy 
 of submission means being conquered by the environ- 
 ment; it is the condition of the animal, and therefore 
 never satisfactory to man. It always leaves a rank- 
 ling in his mind, even though he is philosophically 
 inclined and adduces any number of reasons for pre- 
 tense of satisfaction. The proper state of man as 
 witnessed by the whole course of civilization is self- 
 assertion and conquest. 
 
 Harmony by conquest. — ^There are different stages 
 in conquest. Primitive men and insufficiently de- 
 veloped semi-civilized people try to conquer their en- 
 vironment first of all by direct attack, by the appli- 
 cation of physical force against animate and inanimate 
 nature. Perhaps the whole energy may be engaged 
 in the effort, and the state of consciousness may vary 
 from a mere dim notion to actual hatred of the object, 
 as, for instance, when Xerxes had the Hellespont 
 whipped with rods of iron, because his pontoon 
 bridges had been carried away. A higher form is in- 
 vention, or the combination of forces for useful pur- 
 poses in a new manner. The term invention is used 
 here in the largest sense, so as to include anything 
 which man employs in easing his labors, from the club 
 of our distant forbears to the flying machine of 
 to-day. 
 
 The integral self. — The desire for an integral self 
 means the satisfaction which comes from the develop- 
 ment of all faculties of oneself and of other men in 
 their entirety — physical, mental and spiritual — as over 
 
154 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 against any particular desires. It is the craving for 
 a body which is a supple and eifective agent of a mind 
 that rejoices in its own expansion in the realms of 
 the good, the true, and the beautiful, that protests 
 against any incompleteness whether in itself or in 
 the social milieu that enjoys giving as much as re- 
 ceiving because its development depends on both — a 
 mind, briefly, which is as nearly as possible at unity 
 with itself and in harmony with its environment. 
 
 The integral self an ideal. — What has been said may 
 sound like a counsel of perfection, and the question 
 may justly be asked : What has this to do with social 
 control? The answer is, briefly, it is an ideal! Our 
 times aie in need of higher ideals which may not be 
 reached for some time, but toward which we must 
 strive, nevertheless. In the past, civilization has suf- 
 fered considerably from the fact that ideals were 
 chiefly negative — the removal of disabilities of some 
 kind — melioration is the scientific term. But this very 
 attitude has blinded us to the fact that man is here not 
 merely to remove evils but to build up a society in 
 which these evils would not occur. Formerly it was 
 largely a static attitude. "The poor ye have always 
 with you!" was interpreted by a foolish world to 
 mean, "There must always be poor people!" Hence 
 charity became the great Christian virtue. The ex- 
 pectation was that there would always be thriftless, 
 indolent and sickly people who would have to be sup- 
 ported. Naturally, it came true, because men did not 
 try to prove it false. 
 
 They lived up to their ideal, and there is now a 
 positive danger that charity is being overdone, be- 
 cause we not only keep alive the defectives of every 
 
THE NEW SOCIAL CONTROL 155 
 
 possible sort, but improvidently let them multiply at 
 a rate faster than the fit. Philadelphia alone has 
 2,376 separate agencies engaged in benevolent work, 
 more than half of which aim solely at the relief of 
 physical suffering. The Charity Organization of New 
 York issues a catalogue annually for the Boroughs 
 of Manhattan and the Bronx, which, devoting only a 
 few descriptive lines to each agency, fills over 400 
 pages. During the present war the crooks and swin- 
 dlers of various kinds exploited the prevalent 
 charitable spirit of New Yorkers to such an extent 
 that legal measures had to be taken against the abuse. 
 
 Human nature changing. — It may be objected also 
 that human nature cannot be changed. That is pre- 
 cisely what has been done, and is being done con- 
 stantly. Charity was enjoined as a duty upon a hard- 
 hearted world, but it is now almost becoming a vice. 
 If we apply ourselves diligently to the problem of 
 improving the human mind, the conditions of exist- 
 ence may be modified very considerably. "Much may 
 be done to change the nature of man himself. The 
 intelligence which has converted the brother of the 
 wolf into the faithful guardian of the flock ought to 
 be able to do something toward curbing the instincts 
 of savagery in civilized man."^ 
 
 The world is paying dearly for this negative ideal. 
 In science and in the industrial world the achieve- 
 ments have been phenomenal since man wrote his 
 declaration of independence and began to rely upon 
 himself. In law, in ethics, and in many social mat- 
 ters we cling to the past. Hence the cleavage in mod- 
 ern society between material and cultural civiliza- 
 
 1 Professor Huxley, Evolution and Ethics, p. 85. 
 
156 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 tion. Many business men are strictly up-to-date in 
 the application of the most modern scientific appli- 
 ances, but are morally and socially still in the Middle 
 Ages, simply because they live according to an anti- 
 quated ideal which is held up before them by their ill- 
 informed mentors. 
 
 History has proved that man cannot be controlled 
 from v^fithout, no matter by what power and means 
 the attempt is made. If he has a sufficiently high 
 ideal placed before him and finds it vitally related 
 to him, he will control himself. His own need for 
 completion will draw him to his fellowmen, and will 
 induce him to act in such a manner as to develop and 
 maintain an integral self. 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 THE SOCIAL FUNCTION OF RELIGION 
 
 Social importance of religion. — One of the principal 
 functions of religion in ancient times was the social. 
 While it cannot be said truthfully that its practice con- 
 stituted the chief activity of primitive peoples, it may 
 be said that the social activities of the group centered 
 chiefly around religion, or were surrounded by religous 
 ceremonies. The making of war and the conclusion of 
 peace, the beginning and the ending of the great hunts 
 for game, the various recreational festivities, such as 
 dance, were all under the auspices of religion. 
 
 From another point of view the social function of re- 
 ligion was important. Whatever philosophy and science, 
 or poetry and art existed, centered around religion or 
 were derived from it. It was undoubtedly crude reason- 
 ing in which these early men engaged, but a beginning 
 of reasoning was thus made, and man started on his 
 career as a rational being. The mythologies contained the 
 germs of the various departments of knowledge which 
 make up our modern civilization. By disentangling the 
 threads of those mythologies and specializing on some 
 particular line, men were able eventually to produce the 
 different branches of science, philosophy, poetry, and 
 history of our times, which in the vast majority of 
 cases have not even the remotest resemblance to their 
 origin, and are often diametrically opposed to it. It is 
 true, nevertheless, that the reasoning of the group was 
 connected with the attempt to give an account of man 
 and of the world in terms of religion. 
 
 157 
 
158 CHAPTER IX 
 
 From still another point of view religion was of great 
 social importance. The gods were the means of differ- 
 entiating and later of extending the social consciousness. 
 With the multitude of gods, each of which demanded 
 special, if not exclusive allegiance, it was inevitable that 
 social consciousness should be narrow and intense. They 
 were after all only the replicas of human consciousness, 
 even though supposed to be objective personalities. They 
 demanded loyal and constant devotion. And man, not 
 having as yet learned to value himself in terms of him- 
 self, rendered what was required of him. This neces- 
 sarily led to a conflict between the gods, since each of 
 them was anxious to extend his power over men beyond 
 his own adherents. The latter were ordered into battle 
 for their overlords, and fought valiantly. When one 
 people was defeated, the explanation was based on either 
 one or both of two reasons. The god of the defeated 
 was plainly inferior to the one of the victorious race, 
 who was promptly adopted, just as the wives readily 
 followed the victors in early wars. If the defeat was 
 not decisive, another explanation was ready. The people 
 had disobeyed their god, and he had given them up to 
 their enemy. Possible victory lay only in more complete 
 surrender to his orders. The tribal deities thus required 
 a separation of peoples into small groups with exclusive 
 interests. The victors, however, extended the sway of 
 their gods, and thus broadened their social consciousness 
 which was bound up with religion in those days. With 
 the repetition of this process, a national god with a 
 corresponding religion and political organization even- 
 tually evolved. Polytheism was supplanted by hen- 
 otheism. 
 
 The ancient Hebrew religion. — This stage of devel- 
 
THE SOCIAL FUNCTION OF RELIGION 159 
 
 opment is amply illustrated in the history of the ancient 
 Hebrews. Jehovah was a national god who had survived 
 various tribal deities. Old Testament history is largely 
 concerned with the conflicts in which he engages with 
 other national deities, e. g., Baal of Assyria. Sometimes 
 the contest took the form of a manifestation other than 
 feats of arms, e. g., in the story of Elijah with the proph- 
 ets of Baal (1 Kings XVIII, 21-40). The story of 
 Naaman, reported in 2 Kings V. 15-19, shows how liter- 
 ally the theory of the limitation of power on the part 
 of national gods to a given territory was taken. Two 
 mules' burdens of earth transported from Palestine to 
 Syria would enable the new worshipper of Jehovah to 
 stand, literally speaking, on the latter's territory and to 
 render homage to the god who had proved hiifaself so 
 powerful. 
 
 The best minds among the Hebrews were pressing, 
 however, toward a more satisfactory solution of the prob- 
 lem. As the power of generalization increased, these 
 men looked beyond their nation and henotheism toward 
 some sort of internationalism and monotheism under the 
 sway of Jehovah. This contest between the popular hen- 
 otheistic conception and the monotheistic idea, held by 
 a small and select group, is well brought out in the book 
 of Jonah, and may be referred to briefly in erder to 
 illustrate the extension of social consciousness. The sit- 
 uation is this: 
 
 The writer of the book wants to show the absurdity 
 of henotheism and prove the truth of monotheism. How 
 is it to be done? He represents a believer in Jehovah as 
 a national god who sends Jonah to Nineveh with an 
 order to the people of that city. But according to hy- 
 pothesis, Jehovah's power is limited to Palestine while 
 
160 CHAPTER IX 
 
 Bel is the supreme lord over Nineveh, and would resem 
 any interference from the messenger of another god. 
 Jonah is in a predicament. If he obeys Jehovah, Bel 
 will punish him for interfering; if he disobeys, the "god 
 of Israel" will wreak his vengeance upon him. There 
 is plainly but one thing to do — to flee into a country over 
 which neither Jehovah nor Bel has any control ; a neutral 
 country, as we would say. So he boards a ship for 
 Tarshish. A storm arises and threatens the safety of the 
 ship. Every man calls upon his god, but to no avail. 
 At last Jonah is awakened by the crew from a deep 
 sleep — a plain indication that he had fled to Joppa in 
 haste so as to get out of Jehovah's territory, since none 
 but an .exhausted man could have slept in that storm- 
 tossed craft. The hero now realized that the statements 
 of the monotheists were true and he "fears the Lord, 
 the God of heaven, which hath made the sea and the dry 
 land." Naturally enough, the crew were converted, "and 
 offered a sacrifice unto the Lord," because the sea ceased 
 raging as soon as Jonah was cast overboard. The story 
 of the whale and Jonah's sojourn in its belly is Oriental 
 imagery illustrating the difficulties of the journey to 
 Nineveh, which were certainly many and varied. 
 
 Arrived in the city of Bel, Jonah, now sure of the 
 protection of Jehovah, preaches his message with zest. 
 "Yet forty days, and Nineveh shall be overthrown." But 
 to his amazement the people and their king repent, be- 
 lieve in the new god, and are spared. Jonah is greatly 
 displeased ; his conversion to monotheism had been meta- 
 physical, not moral. A mighty god like Jehovah should 
 show mercy to Israel, but manifest power to other na- 
 tions. He is still a Hebrew with a tribal consciousness. 
 His moral conversion is brought about by the story of 
 
THE SOCIAL FUNCTION OF RELIGION 161 
 
 the gourd "which came up in a night, and perished in 
 a night." If Jonah was sorry for that plant, why should 
 not Jehovah have pity upon the great city with its six 
 score persons that could "not discern between their right 
 hand and their left hand ; and also much cattle ?" 
 
 Jehovah is thus the "God af gods," and the king of 
 kings, with sovereignty over the whole world; but this 
 very fact involves that he should be merciful to all men, 
 because they are all his children. The metaphysical at- 
 tribute of omnipotence implies that of moral responsi- 
 bility. 
 
 Christianity. — This theory viras endorsed and ex- 
 tended, perhaps intensified, by Christianity. God is, 
 plainly stated, to be the father of all men, and all alike 
 are to be heirs to the kingdom of heaven. The barriers 
 of creeds and races are broken down, and an invitation 
 goes out into all the world to be saved. 
 
 But again, it is chiefly a theological theory; it is still 
 far from being a practice. The World War of 1914-18 
 has amply proved that even Christian nations hark back 
 to a tribal god in times of conflict. The Germans were 
 not the only people who looked upon God as their own 
 particular property. Every belligerent nation somehow 
 looked at Him as a national patron. The explanation is 
 simple. It is always easy to believe in a theory, but just 
 as hard to practice it. While the professions of human 
 brotherhood are becoming increasingly numerous both on 
 the part of individuals and of nations, no complete change 
 in this direction has as yet been made anywhere, except 
 in isolated cases. 
 
 Influences of religion. — ^The principal fruit of the 
 extension of social consciousness through religion con- 
 
162 CHAPTER IX 
 
 sists in the mitigation of the punishment of offenders 
 and of the condition of the needy and oppressed. The 
 old law was "an eye for an eye." Almost in every ad- 
 vanced religion places of refuge were established either 
 in temples, sacred groves, or in special cities, as among 
 the Hebrews. The purpose was in every case to shelter 
 those who unwittingly had offended against the ancient 
 law. until the matter could be settled without resorting 
 to retaliation, or permanently. The conception of sparing 
 one's enemy was thus brought home to men. Even the 
 shipmates of Jonah hesitated before they complied with 
 his request to throw him into the sea, lest innocent blood 
 be laid upon them. 
 
 Those in "need, sorrow, sickness, or any other ad- 
 versity," likewise found comfort and consolation, help and 
 advice in the shrines of deities. The first hospitals were 
 connected with temples, and those who had trouble of 
 any kind repaired to them either temporarily or perma- 
 nently. The poor and the oppressed became, however, 
 the special charges of Christian churches. The great 
 emphasis laid on almsgiving had much influence in soft- 
 ening the hearts of a callous world. The slaves flocked 
 in large numbers to the churches, because their only 
 hope for betterment of their lot lay there. 
 
 The epistle to Philemon furnishes a complete illustra- 
 tion of the spirit of Christianity from this point of view. 
 The Bible has little or nothing to say against slavery, ' 
 but both in the Old and the New Testaments numerous 
 passages inculcate the mitigation of the treatment of 
 slaves. The prohibition to make a slave of a Hebrew 
 against his will for debt to a fellow-Hebrew is a case 
 in point. The epistle to Philemon shows how a slave, 
 although still bound by law to a master, should be treated. 
 
THE SOCIAL FUNCTION OF RELIGION loJ 
 
 The situation is most instructive for the way many social 
 problems were solved in early Christian times. 
 
 Onesimus, a slave of Philemon, a resident perhaps of 
 Thessalonica, had run away to Rome where he was con- 
 verted under the influence of St. Paul. The question 
 was, what to do with him. The law required the return 
 of a runaway slave, and the apostle had always insisted 
 on obedience to the powers of the state. Fortunately, 
 Philemon himself had become a disciple through St. Paul. 
 This opened the way for a satisfactory solution. He 
 wrote a letter, in which, instead of ordering, he entreated 
 Philemon to treat the former slave as a brother in Christ. 
 Onesimus was himself the bearer of the message, and 
 arrived presumably without mishap at his master's house, 
 where most probably he was treated as a fellow Chris- 
 tian. That, at least, was the intention of the letter. 
 
 The problem of slavery was to be solved by means of 
 personal kindness, and many slaves have had their condi- 
 tion improved in this manner. It was, perhaps, a better 
 method than that of the Church at Jerusalem, which tried 
 to solve the problem of poverty through communism, 
 and soon found itself bankrupt. The quiet influence of 
 many pious Christians became in the course of time, 
 when economic and political conditions had matured, suf- 
 ficiently strong to abolish slavery. 
 
 When Christianity became the state religion of the 
 Roman Empire, it was made an accompaniment of all 
 important public functions. And this tendency became 
 universal in Europe during the Middle Ages with patron 
 saints for every possible activity, even that of the chase. 
 But all this was more or less formality. The spirit was 
 tending toward individualism, as is shown by the division 
 of the people into priests and laymen and by the increas- 
 
164 CHAPTER IX 
 
 ingly greater number of men and women who sought 
 salvation in monasteries. 
 
 Religion before and after the Reformation. — Mo- 
 nastic life had two aspects of importance for society. It 
 fostered communal life within small groups, and became 
 the center of education. By its other — worldliness, how- 
 ever, it had distinctly unfavorable influences on social 
 life. Man's attention was called away from necessary 
 improvements in this life in order to prepare for the 
 kingdom of heaven. This was, at least, the main tend- 
 ency of the church. It is, perhaps, fortunate that in 
 this case practice lagged far behind theory. It is due 
 to this fact that much valuable work was done on mo- 
 nastic estates in agriculture and the trades, and in mon- 
 asteries in education and the preservation of at least a 
 remnant of classical learning. The care of the poor and 
 of the sick went on as usual, since this was enjoined as 
 a Christian virtue. Much misery was thus alleviated. 
 
 After the Reformation the movement for individual- 
 ism became more articulated, especially through its passion 
 for education and its acceptance of industrialism. The 
 very fact that every person had a right to private judg- 
 ment in religion, made him more independent in other 
 aspects of life, since man is a mental unity, and he must 
 apply a principle gained in one sphere of his activity to 
 all others. He soon came to think independently in poli- 
 tics, and the Puritan revolution preceded that in France 
 by more than a century. In industry he is apt to trust 
 less to prayers and offerings, and more to honest work 
 and the encouragement of initiative. He relies more on 
 himself in religion, and that is likely to brace his whole 
 personality. Hence England was the first country to ex- 
 perience an industrial revolution. It was a movement of 
 
THE SOCIAL FUNCTION OF RELIGION 165 
 
 the strong and vigorous individualists who put work 
 before prayer, since, having learned to use their own 
 judgment in matters of religion, they were bound to apply 
 it to politics and business. This means that the whole 
 social atmosphere of Protestantism is tending toward 
 individualism. 
 
 Theory and practice. — Once more, however, prac- 
 tice lags far behind theory. The old Christian virtues 
 of looking after the sick and needy still flourish, perhaps 
 more than in Roman Catholic countries. Not on the 
 basis of sentiment alone, though. Self-reliance and suc- 
 cess have created a new sense of responsibilty for the 
 weak. Legions of institutions have been established 
 to care for all kinds of unfortunate human beings. They 
 are as a rule supported by the rich in all' Protestant 
 countries, and are in many cases well endowed. Similar 
 institutions for non-Protestant churches are still depend- 
 ing largely on the small gifts of the many under the old 
 motives of sentiment and expectation of reward. Neither 
 of these methods is entirely satisfactory, because each 
 depends on the creation of an inclination to give. This 
 means that much time and energy is wasted, because the 
 churches as a whole are not behind these movements. 
 If a strong and imposing personality is behind any one 
 of them, an institution ^ill temporarily be in a flourish- 
 ing condition, and then, with a weaker successor, will 
 languish and perish. This is. however, not the chief 
 difficulty with the social influence of modern religion. 
 That lies deeper. 
 
 Christian morality — old and nev/. — Owing to the 
 fact that Christianity was chiefly the religion of the op- 
 pressed and the disinherited, it almost inevitably set 
 itself in opposition to the strong and capable. In many 
 
166 CHAPTER IX 
 
 •cases, non-resistance would be the best policy under try- 
 ing circumstances, since rebellion was out of the question. 
 As the church became eventually a state institution, this 
 part of her teaching gradually passed into the background. 
 But the early impression was never eradicated. It was 
 extended and changed so as to apply to all men in the 
 form of an utter abasement before God owing to one's 
 sins. This was, perhaps, necessary in an age when vio- 
 lence reigned supreme, and strong measures had to be 
 employed to frighten great and small evil-doers. The 
 result was, however, that the church emphasized weak- 
 ness, humility, helplessness, and similarly negative qual- 
 ities as desirable and in many cases as essential to a 
 truly Christian character. Estimable as such ideals may 
 be, they do not contribute to the improvement of life, 
 except in a negative way — ^they remove social friction, 
 but do not create better conditions. Yet this is needed, 
 and this is what the modern world is crying for. 
 
 The improvement of conditions calls, however, for 
 initiative, aggressiveness, enterprise, risk, and daring, not 
 for resignation and submission. The early history of 
 Christianity has impressed this negative ideal upon its 
 adherents all through the centuries, and when a deviation 
 from this type was permitted, e. g., in the Knights Tem- 
 plars and similar organizations, the combination soon 
 proved disastrous ; piety was lost, and the aggressive mili- 
 tary qualities became dominant, as in the German 
 Knights. 
 
 In modern times the result has been different. While 
 many men still believe in religion, they have either im- 
 plicitly or explicitly ignored the negative virtues deemed 
 essential in former ages. They have developed their 
 initiative and courage, have wrestled with problems of 
 
THE SOCIAL FUNCTION OF RELIGION 167 
 
 this life, and have compelled nature to give up her treas- 
 ures. The result has been interesting from a social point 
 of view. 
 
 Results of the new morality. — ^Attempts have been 
 made again and again to reform religion by instilling 
 into it a more aggressive spirit, and demanding a more 
 active participation in modern industrial and political 
 life. Where partial success has been attained in this 
 endeavor, the charge was quickly made by the older type 
 of religionists, that a deviation from, if not perversion 
 of, the true purposes of Christianity had taken place, and 
 books advocating such "radical" changes were quietly if 
 not officially placed under the ban. The very men who 
 had the best interests of religion most at heart, were 
 looked upon as its worst enemies. 
 
 Another result has been the silent severance of church 
 membership by many men who can no longer be satisfied 
 with inactivity. They want to do something, but are 
 told to give alms or visit the sick. This may be well 
 enough for a man who thinks in static terms and believes 
 that it has pleased God to arrange things in such a way 
 that there should always be sick and poor people. Think- 
 ing in dynamic terms and believing strongly in better 
 things to come, the modern man asks himself why there 
 should be those in our midst who are in constant need 
 of help. Surely, it cannot be the fault of God. Hence 
 it must be the fault of man, either of society or of the 
 individual. If so, something can and should be done 
 about it. The ignorant must be instructed about the 
 necessity of hygiene and of proper diet; the community 
 must be stirred up to make arrangements for sanitation 
 and medical inspection. People need not be sick ; neither 
 need others be poor. If an equitable system of distribu- 
 
168 CHAPTER IX 
 
 tion were initiated, only the shiftless and the wasters 
 would be poor, and they should be instructed about the 
 necessity of work, and in case of refusal to comply, be 
 confined in an institution where medical treatment might 
 be given them suitable to their disease. Many men think 
 in these terms of modern life, and, while not antagonistic 
 to the churches, have sought other avenues for their 
 activities. 
 
 A still different result has been the attempt to solicit 
 larger gifts from members of churches for almost every 
 imaginable purpose. The defenders of the older religious 
 view believe that if a man is willing to part with some 
 of his wealth for charitable purposes, he is doing some- 
 thing for the welfare of humanity. They do not realize 
 that the very liberal gifts are largely the cause of the 
 perpetuation of present social evils. A man may be eager 
 to give one-tenth of his wealth, provided the possession 
 of the nine-tenths is receiving divine sanction. Much 
 has been said, consequently, in print and pulpit about the 
 righteousness of large gifts, and — many men have be- 
 come righteous. 
 
 As long as the churches adhere, however, to the older 
 view of religion which is essentially negative, no radical 
 steps can be taken. If they should become aggressive 
 and preach about industrial oppression and similar evils 
 too emphatically, they would lose the support of those 
 attacked, and that would mean the loss of large revenues 
 and the closing of many church-buildings. Men have 
 come to accept negativity as Christianity, and they will 
 resent the new attitude. It is a so-called personal morality 
 for the family and one's friends which has been taught 
 to them so long that they have come to accept that as 
 the only one existing. 
 
THE SOCIAL FUNCTION OF RELIGION W 
 
 Social effects of official religion. — This personal 
 morality is considered chiefly as a right relation to God. 
 All through the ages there has been a discrepancy on the 
 question whether religion implies righteousness of life, 
 or not. It was the battle ground of the prophets in the 
 Old Testament against the priests, and forms the point of 
 attack to-day against orthodoxy. Official or ecclesiastical 
 religion has always insisted that it was as much con- 
 cerned with the right relations of man to his fellowmen 
 as with a right attitude toward God. It has, however, 
 invariably failed in the final test, because it has never 
 been able to shake off the shackles of its original pur- 
 pose to serve a deity who ruled over men in a more or 
 less arbitrary manner. The foundations of all official 
 religions were laid at a time when the law of cause and 
 effect meant obedience to a deity with consequent blessing, 
 or vice versa. This implied that a right relation to the 
 gods was the uppermost consideration on the part of 
 priests and people. But, as we have seen, the conception 
 of the deity was originally that of a tribal over-lord who 
 permitted certain deeds to be done with impunity to wor- 
 shippers of another god, if, indeed, such actions were 
 not directly commanded, e. g., the slaughter of enemies. 
 This attitude has survived to this very day, but in a 
 slightly changed form. The family and one's friends 
 have taken the place of the tribe, and one must observe 
 certain rules in their treatment; these may fall into 
 disuse in the case of strangers. The same principle ap- 
 plies to the relation of nation to nation, as was indicated 
 above. War always means a relapse into earlier forms 
 of tribal religion. The world still believes theoretically 
 in God as the father of all men, but considers Him in 
 practice as a tribal deity. 
 
170 CHAPTER IX 
 
 OfEcial religion essentially tribal. — It is, however^ 
 the special business of official religion to manage a tribal 
 deity. The endless forms of rites and of sacrifices have 
 no other purpose. Even where the deity furnishes the 
 sacrifice, the management thereof still lies with the official 
 representatives of religion. In this case forgiveness is 
 more easily and universally obtained on compliance with 
 certain rules. These are few and simple — ^belief, repent- 
 ance, and promise of reform. If the latter did not come 
 about, the sinner need not despair, for "the Lord is 
 gracious, and His mercy endureth forever." Hence, 
 death-bed conversions are still numerous. 
 
 The effects of these doctrines have been inimical to 
 social welfare. Try as it might, official religion could 
 never have any but incidentally beneficial influences on 
 society. The history of the Middle Ages abounds in cases 
 of rulers who oppressed their people, wreaked their ven- 
 geance upon their enemies, and grossly violated all rules 
 of morality, yet died in the official odor of sanctity by 
 donning a monk's cowl or otherwise setting themselves 
 right with what they believed to be a pliant deity. The 
 example of the great was followed by the small, and a 
 totally anti-social attitude was introduced which cul- 
 minated in extreme individualism during the eighteenth 
 century — an attitude still with us but mitigated by the 
 recognition of social inter-dependence and by the laws 
 of the state. 
 
 The many attempts on the part of religious ministers 
 to write on social reform fall short of their aim almost 
 without exception because they suffer from the defect 
 of not having a clear conception of the law of cause 
 and effect. This law must be the same in business and 
 religion, in private and public activities. There cannot 
 
THE SOCIAL FUNCTION OF RELIGION 171 
 
 be two forms of this law without disastrous social results. 
 When the deity was supposed to control all things, obedi- 
 ence was the only safe rule of follow, because that august 
 being could accomplish the impossible and turn a wrong 
 action into a right one, since actions were not intrinsic- 
 ally right or wrong but only so by reference to a god 
 issuing arbitrary laws. It will do little good to fulminate 
 against bribery and small wages when the briber and 
 the bribed, the greedy employer and the shirking em- 
 ployee come to the same altar and receive equal forgive- 
 ness. Neither will it be of any avail for the libertine 
 who has afHicted his innocent wife and a new-born baby 
 with a loathsome disease to plead guilty and imagine him- 
 self acceptable in the sight of God; the wrong has been 
 done and can never be straightened out. Two lives have 
 been ruined, and no repentance or forgiveness can remove 
 the damage. 
 
 Religion and the law of cause and effect. — Perhaps 
 the most difficult thing to learn is the scientific conception 
 of the law of cause and effect. In a theoretical manner 
 it is acknowledged by everybody. It would be applied 
 more generally if it had not been for the official attitude 
 of religion which always found a way out of the diffi- 
 culty. It is the most amazing spectacle of all history 
 how men have schemed and planned to envade this law; 
 it is the most reassuring fact for future betterment that 
 some men at least have learned that the penalty for 
 wrong-doing cannot be avoided nor shifted to other 
 shoulders. The laws of eugenics mean just that in the 
 realm of propagation ; social impurity will result in bad 
 heredity, swiftly and inevitably. The laws of inadequate 
 wages run the same way — the output is less in quantity 
 and poorer in quality, perhaps slowly but inevitably. Cause 
 
172 CHAPTER IX 
 
 and effect are inseparable. It is a wholesome sign that 
 this law is gradually being applied in different realms 
 of life. Perhaps more people have become interested 
 in sweatshops by learning that diseases are carried in 
 garments made there than by age-long discussion about 
 the fatherhood of God ; and more oppressive employers 
 have come to see that higher wages were possible by the 
 "white list" of the Consumer's League than by numerous 
 appeals to the brotherhood of man. 
 
 A change needed. — The social influence of official 
 religion will depend largely on its acceptance of the law 
 of cause and effect; its failure to do so will inevitably 
 drive the best elements out of the churches, as events in 
 recent decades have already begun to show. Fortunately 
 for religion, there is a good chance of changing its atti- 
 tude by emphasizing this very law, always present but 
 usually neglected. It is good religion and good science 
 to teach that "the sins of the fathers are to be visited 
 upon the children into the third and fourth generation" 
 as the history of families and nations amply proves. Even 
 to-day we are unable to "gather figs from thistles and 
 grapes from thorns," just as in the days of Jesus, not- 
 withstanding our progress in grafting. What was then 
 a matter of observation is now a law of heredity. It 
 will always be true that "what a man soweth, that shall 
 he also reap," although religion has had many schemes 
 for avoiding the issue. 
 
 Most men need religion, because they are weak and 
 frail. It is one of the purposes of religion to make them 
 strong and well. This cannot be done by having them 
 put the responsibility for their own shortcomings on 
 someone else. The only way to learn is by bearing the 
 consequences of the evil one has done. That is true for 
 
-THE SOCIAL FUNCTION OF RELIGION 173 
 
 individuals as well as for societies. The temptation for 
 repeating a wrong is too great for most men if they are 
 told that somehow or other they may escape the results. 
 Some men will not even learn from experience; nothing 
 can be done for them but to let them suffer. That is 
 the law of nature, and it is the law of the spirit. No man 
 can mature into a fine character, except by effort; we 
 must "seek our salvation with fear and trembling." God 
 wants us to be co-workers with Him in the great work 
 of raising society to a higher level. That can be done 
 only if we recognize pur duty and take our share of the 
 responsibility. 
 
 The emphasis on our weakness and helplessness will 
 only make us more useless for our task, since we are 
 largely what we are told we are. Insistence on our ability 
 will help to develop it, for "to him that hath shall be 
 given." This is not an arbitrary law; it is that of all 
 development. The true conception of God is that of a 
 worker, everlastingly active for our improvement. We 
 can appreciate only as much of His endeavors in our 
 behalf as we assimilate by our own efforts; all else is 
 sham and verbiage. Only if we do the work He gives 
 us shall we know whether we are His children. It is a 
 matter of practice and experience, not of theory and be- 
 lief. And experience teaches the law of cause and 
 effect in all spheres of life. It is the truth of life, and 
 the truth alone will make us free. 
 
CHAPTER X 
 THE SOCIALIZATION OF BUSINESS 
 
 Importance of business. — Business men form the 
 most important class of the population in every civilized 
 community. The term "business" is taken here to include 
 manufacture, transportation, and commerce, with the 
 allied branches of finance. In a semi-civilized society, 
 and even in the lower grades of civilization, the farmers 
 may dispute the rank of business men, but not in the more 
 advanced grades. City life, which is one of the chief 
 indications of an advanced civilization, is impossible 
 without business. 
 
 Only a few of the reasons for this importance can be 
 given. With the separation of the people from the land 
 transportation is absolutely necessary for the feeding of 
 the cities — not the cart or the wagon, but the railroad 
 and the steamship since every large city draws its means 
 of sustenance from a radius of hundreds and thousands 
 of miles. With the increased demand for comforts and 
 luxuries industry was transferred from the household 
 to the factory and this required a different kind of man- 
 agement than was necessary before. These classes of 
 articles are manufactured chiefly in cities and are trans- 
 ported to the villages and farms. Commerce is the inter- 
 mediary between producers and consumers of every pos- 
 sible kind and is indispensable where the two are sep- 
 arated by oceans and continents. It is, consequently, of 
 the utmost importance that business should be socialized 
 since civilization itself is in danger if it continues in its 
 old predatory fashion. For that has been and still is 
 the case in many instances. 
 
 174 
 
THE SOCIALIZATIOk OF BUSINESS 175 
 
 Business held in contempt. — Opprobrium was applied 
 in the past only to commerce because manufacture was 
 connected with the household, and transportation was in 
 the hands of the merchants. All through the ages com- 
 merce was looked upon as dishonorable owing chiefly 
 to two facts. Whatever code of honor had developed, 
 was connected with the military class, because the best 
 and most respected men took up arms as a profession. 
 Property existed principally in the form of land, and 
 feudalism in its various forms soon developed and created 
 some kind of permanent relation between land-owner 
 and feudal or military lord on the one hand, and tenant 
 and slave or serf on the other. Permanent relations must 
 be based, however, on some codes of law or honor. 
 These soon sprang into existence, and the producers were 
 thus bound to observe certain rules and regulations which 
 were modified according to changing conditions. 
 
 The trader was a man of the lower classes, often a 
 homeless exile roaming over large territories. He seldom 
 formed permanent relations, and consequently was not 
 under the necessity of adhering to any rules except those 
 of seeking the largest profit. Hence the ancient saying: 
 Caveat emptor. The merchants came thus naturally 
 under the condemnation of the community. 
 
 This was the case in ancient China and in Japan until 
 recent times. All through the ancient and medieval 
 period of China, merchants were looked upon as rob- 
 bers. Eventually the Chinese merchants became reliable 
 owing to the introduction of family and clan responsi- 
 bility, and they are now among the most honest to be 
 found anywhere. In Japan the Samurai refrained, of 
 course, from business until the opening up of that country 
 to Western civilization. The traders were found to be 
 
176 CHAPTER X 
 
 SO dishonest that Japanese commerce suffered seriously. 
 The government, at last, had to interfere, in order to 
 remove the handicap, by inducing the upper classes to 
 take up at least large business, thus infusing honesty 
 into commerce by transferring their own code of honor, 
 gained in the military profession, to other occupations. 
 
 Establishment of code of honor. — The meaning of 
 this transition is plain. Modern business is based on 
 permanent relations, not only few and immediate, a? 
 was the case in feudalism, but many and far distant. 
 Business reflects in this matter only what happens in all 
 spheres of modern life which consists essentially in inter- 
 dependence with an ever-increasing number of human 
 beings, most of whom we never see. Some kind of prin- 
 ciple must be evolved in order to adjust business to this 
 new situation. It can be none other than service. Busi- 
 ness has rendered society great services in the past, but 
 in many cases at high social cost. If even at the beginning 
 of the nineteenth century hours were from fourteen to 
 eighteen per day at low wages, one may surmise 
 that the tendency in preceding ages had been to exploit 
 the laborer to the fullest extent. There were, however, 
 two mitigating circumstances. 
 
 The feudal baron had a code of honor which he must 
 observe or forfeit his social standing. Loyalty was one 
 of the essential features of this code. The serf was 
 bound to be loyal to his squire, the squire to his lord, 
 and so on upward until the king or emperor was reached. 
 Loyalty worked, however, downward just as much. The 
 squire or baron was bound to protect and treat decently 
 those under him — his serfs or laborers. This meant thai 
 self-respect on the part of the feudal lord required decent 
 provision for the workers. Where this principle was not 
 
THE SOCIALIZATION OF BUSINESS 177 
 
 sufficient, that of profit came to its aid. Well treated 
 and contented serfs made better workers than those half- 
 starved and discontented. The kings and emperors, abbots 
 and bishops were well aware of this fact, and instituted 
 constant improvement in the condition of the serfs. Many 
 a free man with a small area of land found it to his ad- 
 vantage to give up his freedom and become the man 
 of a master. This would not have happened if the con- 
 dition of the serf had not on the whole been favorable. 
 
 Honor and the wage system. — The introduction of 
 the wage system removed these two reasons for treating 
 labor decently. The man was now responsible for his 
 own living and that of his family. The opportunities 
 for employment were few, and the applications numerous. 
 Hence exploitation through low wages and long hours. 
 This meant the degredation of the workers to mere tools, 
 and consequent discontent, which became so pronounced 
 in England during the Napoleonic wars, that the loyalty 
 of the laboring classes was seriously questioned by the 
 government, and conscription for the army could not be 
 resorted to — just as it had to be omitted during the World 
 War in Ireland, although for different reasons. 
 
 Social cost of production. — The high social cost of 
 this production can readily be estimated if it issued 
 in the degradation and disloyalty of the workers. No 
 society can prosper even in material things, if a large 
 part of the population is reduced to pauperism; be- 
 cause ultimately it is still true that the wealth of a 
 community consists in the number of healthy men 
 and women, rather than in the material assets which 
 it commands. Human beings are more valuable than 
 goods. This is increasingly true in modern society in 
 which interdependence is much closer than in the 
 
178 CHAPTER X 
 
 past. The workingman may not live in legal slavery, 
 but his life will be little worth while if it is one of 
 constant drudgery at starvation wages. For better 
 or for worse, the laborer has been politically eman- 
 cipated, the idea of democracy has been taught to 
 him, and he has been educated to look upon condi- 
 tions as being made by man, and he has even acquired 
 some knowledge of the cost of production. All this 
 means that he will not sit down and take the crumbs 
 which fall from the rich man's table gratefully; he 
 goes on strike, sometimes without, but more fre- 
 quently with a reason. Every one condemns 
 Machiavellism in politics ; but this system has no bet- 
 ter prospects of succeeding in the conduct of busi- 
 ness than it had in international relations. Ominous 
 signs are multiplying almost in proportion as the 
 workingman acquires greater facility to express him- 
 self and to act collectively. There are strikes, riots, 
 panics, gluts, unemployed idleness, class murder. The 
 wage-earner believes that there is a sufficiency pro- 
 duced for all if properly distributed. In view of the 
 abundance which some men enjoy, he wants to be 
 free at least from the fear of sudden death through 
 accident, of uncertainty of employment, and of un- 
 provided-for old age. He may be unreasonable in 
 many cases, but it is because he does not see why 
 there should be democracy in politics and autocracy 
 in industry. His freedom to vote for whom he pleases 
 is largely neutralized by the necessity of keeping or 
 obtaining a job. Hence his discontent, which, in some 
 cases, verges on rebellion. 
 
 He is unable to see how profession of the father- 
 hood of God and the brotherhood of man can be con- 
 
THE SOCIALIZATION OF BUSINESS 179 
 
 stantly made by his employer and society as a whole 
 without exposing them to the charge of hypocrisy 
 when there is such a wide discrepancy between theory 
 and practice. Life in great cities offers ample proof 
 that some men, most likely on the basis of inherited 
 wealth, are wasting more in one year than a capable 
 worker is able to earn in a lifetime. He very natu- 
 rally cannot reconcile that with the profession of 
 democratic brotherhood. When his children pine 
 away for want of food and die for lack of medical 
 attendance, when both he and his wife are hardly 
 able to meet the most necessary expenses notwith- 
 standing hard work, while at the same time seven 
 thousand new millionaries were made in one single 
 year in our country alone, he concludes that there is 
 not only something wrong with present conditions, but 
 that the whole system of our industry and politics 
 is based on false premises; and readily listens to 
 Socialists and Bolshevists. Being as a rule unable to 
 reason clearly, his profound discontent leads him to 
 clutch at a straw, because he has after all nothing to 
 lose. The course which events have taken in Russia 
 can be explained on no other basis. If the peasant! 
 and industrial workers had not been deeply dissatis* 
 fied, Bolshevism could never have lasted so long. 
 
 Improvement not general. — ^The objection may be 
 raised that conditions have changed recently, espe- 
 cially during the war. It may be well to call atten- 
 tion to a few facts concerning dangerous trades and 
 other occupations, with special reference to theif 
 effect on health. 
 
 All those trades must be classed as dangerous where 
 there is a larger mortality than in the average of 
 
180 CHAPTER X 
 
 others. The mortality experience of the Metropoli- 
 tan Life Insurance Company of New York, for white 
 male workers over fifteen years of age during 1911 to 
 1913, comprising 94,269 deaths, was, according to 
 occupation, as follows : Average age in years at death 
 of bookkeepers and office assistants, 36.5; railway en- 
 ginemen and trainmen, 37.4; plumbers, gasfitters, and 
 steam-fitters, 39.8; compositors and printers, 40.2; 
 teamsters, drivers, and chauffeurs, 42.2 ; saloon keepers 
 and bartenders, 42.6; machinists, 43.9; longshoremen 
 and stevedores, 47.0; textile-mill workers, 47.6; iron- 
 molders, 48.0 ; painters, paper-hangers, and varnishers, 
 48.6; cigar-makers and tobacco-workers, 49.5; bakers, 
 50.6; railway-track and yard workers, 50.7; coal- 
 miners, 51.3; laborers, 52.8; masons and bricklayers, 
 55.0; blacksmiths, 55.4; farmers and farm-laborers, 
 58.5. The average for all occupations was 47.9 years.^ 
 It is significant that some occupations, e. g., coal- 
 mining and textile-mill working, are not nearly as 
 dangerous as some more sheltered ones, e. g., book- 
 keeping. It is also striking that farmers, who have 
 plenty of fresh air, have the highest average life. 
 
 Of 102,467 women whose occupation was stated, 
 the average age at death was: Clerks, bookkeepers, 
 and office assistants, 26.1 ; store clerks and sales- 
 women, 28.0; textile-mill workers, 33.9; dressmakers 
 and garment workers, 42.0; domestic servants, 49.1; 
 housewives and housekeepers, 53.3.^ Here again the 
 indoor workers who have little variation in their occu- 
 pation are at a great disadvantage. 
 
 Dangerous trades.— After this general view of the 
 injuriousness of certain occupations to health, as mani- 
 
 1 U. S. Bureau of Labor Statistics, Bulletin 207; p. 65. 
 i Ibid, p. 81. 
 
THE SOCIALIZATION OF BUSINESS 181 
 
 fested by early death, some specifically dangerous 
 conditions of employment may be considered. 
 
 Dust and gas play a leading part in inducing trade- 
 diseases. Thomas Oliver says*: 
 
 "Were it not for dust, fumes, or gas, there would 
 be little or no disease due to occupation, except such 
 as might be caused by infection, the breathing of air 
 poisoned by the emanation of fellow workmen, and 
 exposure to cold after working in overheated rooms." 
 
 Dust may prove injurious by irritating the skin, 
 by entering the lungs, or by entering the alimeiltary 
 canal. Irritation of the skin is not serious, except in 
 antimony smelters and arsenic grinders. Its effects 
 are annoying but not permanent. It is different with 
 dust in the lungs. Thomas Oliver states the effects 
 thus : 
 
 "In the coal-miner's lung there can be observed 
 small masses of cells deeply, laden with carbon par- 
 ticles surrounded by a hardened zone of altered lung, 
 numerous black streaks underneath the pleura, or 
 covering of the lungs, ink-like dots in the walls of the 
 small bronchi, and enlargement with pigmentation 
 of the bronchial glands." 
 
 The results are a hardening of the lungs, predis- 
 position toward tuberculosis, and a general lowering 
 of vitality. There are five kinds of dust of a serious 
 nature : metallic dust with 28.0 cases of consumption 
 per 1,000 workers; mineral dust with 25.2; mixed 
 dust with 22.6; animal dust with 20.8; vegetable dust 
 with 13.3. In non-dusty trades the rate of consump- 
 tion is 11.1. 
 
 The manufacture of phosphorus, mercury, and a^ 
 
 3 Dangerous Trades, p. 267. 
 
182 CHAPTER X 
 
 senic, the chemical trades, rag-sorting, wool-sorting, 
 work in caissons — ^all involve serious danger to health. 
 Lead-poisoning is, however, the most serious occu- 
 pational disease. Illinois had 578 cases during the 
 years 1908-10; New York City 376 cases from 1909- 
 11; all England only 505 in 1910. Poisoning from 
 lead may be acute or chronic; but the symptoms of 
 both forms are similar — colic, "wrist drop," loose teeth 
 and a blue line on the gums, gastritis, spasms, etc. 
 Lead-poisoning occurs in thirteen trades, but is felt 
 most severaly in white-lead manufacturing. 
 
 Another occupational disease which has attracted 
 considerable attention during the last few years is 
 anthrax or splenic fever. In the closing months of 
 1915 and the early part of 1916 there was a sudden 
 and startling increase in the number of illnesses 
 and cieaths from anthrax in the United States. Most 
 of these cases were reported from seaports and tan- 
 nery towns in New York, Massachusetts and Penn- 
 sylvania. The disease is fatal in about one out of five 
 cases. One Delaware physician reported from his 
 own practice forty-eight cases within six years; a 
 single Philadelphia hospital treated thirty-two cases 
 within the same period. Anthrax is primarily a dis- 
 ease of animals, such as cattle and sheep, but is 
 transmitted to man in a number of industrial pur- 
 suits, especially skin and hide-handlers, tannery em- 
 ployees, longshoremen, wool-sorters, hair-workers, 
 brush-makers, paper-makers, farmers, ranchmen, and 
 veterinarians. The bacillus of anthrax is one of the 
 largest disease-producing organisms. The spore of 
 the bacillus is more dangerous, though, since it can 
 live for seventeen years without nutriment, and when 
 
THE SOCIALIZATION OF BUSINESS 183 
 
 provided with a favorable environment germinates 
 rapidly and sets up a focus of infection. Contagion 
 usually occurs through an abrasion of the skin, re- 
 sulting in a malignant postule or edema. A serum is 
 now being used as a cure. 
 
 The recent war brought in its trail of evils some 
 occupational dangers. Most of the explosives used in 
 war have one or several poisonous substances, e. g., 
 nitrocotton, picric acid, nitroglycerin, trinitro-toluol, 
 ammonuim nitrate, sulfuric ether, etc. In the manu- 
 facture of explosives certain poisons are developed as 
 by-products, e. g., oxids of nitrogen, sulfur dioxid, 
 chlorin gas, ethyl nitrite. Some of these produce only 
 disagreeable skin-eruptions, while others are rapidly 
 fatal after a short exposure. 
 
 In May, 1917, there were forty-one plants along the 
 Atlantic seaboard, employing about 90,000 workers, 
 although the number actually coming in contact with 
 poisons was only 30,000. This, however, is a euphem- 
 istic statement. A much larger number is actually 
 exposed during a given year, since the turnover is 
 extraordinarily great in this industry, especially in the 
 departments where poisonous fumes and dust exist. 
 In one admirably managed plant it was necessary to 
 employ 4,000 men in thirteen months to keep up a 
 working force of 200. In another, employing 3,800 
 men, 4,307 men were examined within four months. 
 Of the forty-one plants, twenty-eight had 2,432 cases 
 of poisoning among men and 75 among women, of 
 which 51 and 2, respectively, proved fatal. 
 
 There is danger in many occupations. Often only 
 the most noticeable symptoms are classed as occu- 
 pational ; the more insidious ones are not, although 
 they are in many instances more inimical. 
 
184 CHAPTER X 
 
 In non-dangerous trades also there lurk many 
 features injurious to the health of the workers, chiefly 
 fatigue and poor ventilation. Comparatively few of 
 the older factories are provided with proper facilities 
 for ventilation, although conditions are gradually im- 
 proving, owing to various new laws and to a more 
 effective system of inspection. The other cause con- 
 ducive to poor health is not being remedied, however, 
 and is in many cases aggravated. It is true that 
 hours have generally been reduced, in many cases to 
 the normal eight per day. This reduction in time 
 is, however, more than offset by the increase in speed 
 which is generally enforced. 
 
 fears ago a woman in a textile-mill in New Eng- 
 land tended two slowly moving looms. Later, as the 
 hours of work grew less, the number of looms was 
 increased to four or six, and now an operative is ex- 
 pected in some mills to look after twelve or even 
 sixteen. This work is not heavy ; there is little mus- 
 cular strength required. It is rather the constant 
 and steady application of the mind, the keen use of 
 the eyes, which exhaust and wear out the body. The 
 whole nervous system is so intently directed to the 
 details of the work while the machinery is running 
 at high speed that the worker is at night not only 
 tired out, but nearly exhausted. During a recent 
 strike in a shirt-waist factory in New York the girls 
 complained because ten years ago they had been 
 watching one needle, running at the rate of 2,200 
 strokes a minute, but were now required to watch 
 from two to twenty needles on a machine, some run- 
 ning as high as 4,400 strokes a minute. The thread 
 ma}' catch, a needle may break, the material may draw 
 
THE SOCIALIZATION OP BUSINESS 185 
 
 — any number of things may happen — consequently 
 attention must be continuous and intense. Every min- 
 ute counts, since the work is piece-work. The total 
 vitality expended in eight hours is greater than that 
 required formerly in twelve. In many cases the 
 output per operative is from two to four times larger 
 than formerly within the same hours. If the periods 
 of rest are not sufficiently long, fatigue incurred day 
 by day lowers vitality, frequent and heavy colds occur, 
 illness results, debility follows, and the worker is 
 ready for tuberculosis or some other disease which 
 will issue in death. 
 
 One of the most serious results of undermining 
 health through continued fatigue is the shortening of 
 the life of operatives who do not die as a direct result 
 of overwork. Frederick Hoffman estimates that "the 
 period of industrial activity of wage-earners generally, 
 but chiefly of men employed in mechanical and manu- 
 facturing industries, should properly commence with 
 the age of fifteen and terminate with the age of sixty- 
 five." He finds, however, that out of every 1,000 males 
 living at the age of fifteen, only 444 survive until the 
 age of sixty-five, while 556 die before that age is 
 reached.^ 
 
 This waste of human lives need not occur, and its 
 occurrence is a sad commentary on our social intel- 
 ligence and control. We apparently still prize goods 
 more than men, profits more than human happiness, 
 completed output more than a full vitality. There 
 is certainly no need for five per cent of our popula- 
 tion to be constantly suffering total impairment 
 
 1 Social Adjustment, by Scott Nearing, p. 182. Macmlllan Co., New 
 York, 1911. 
 
186 CHAPTER X 
 
 through fatigue and four per cent to be constantly- 
 sick. 
 
 It is entirely possible to have a man work eight 
 or ten hours a day at a moderate speed and make a 
 living wage for himself and a fair profit for his em- 
 ployer. This has been done in many industrial plants, 
 with good results to all concerned. Increasingly work- 
 ingmen are looked upon as human beings. This means 
 a closer relation between employer and employed, a 
 human relation instead of one of profit and loss. 
 Through the introduction of safety-devices, of better 
 ventilating systems, and more hygienic working con- 
 ditions the health of employees will be improved. The 
 reduction of high profits through higher wages and 
 shorter hours without the compensating "speeding 
 up" will not seriously interfere with capital; it will, 
 however, vastly improve human calibre and social 
 good-will. This has been done in many cases, and it 
 car be done in all. 
 
 It should be entirely possible that a workman not 
 only keep in good health, but return to his family in 
 a cheerful mood, with enough vitality left in him to 
 be pleasant and agreeable to his wife and to play 
 with his children. There is a vast difference, socially 
 and individually, between the worker who can hardly 
 drag himself up the stairs of his tenement, who is 
 curt and morose to his family, and is shunned by his 
 own children, and the man who is tired, but not ex- 
 hausted, from his work, has a pleasant word for every- 
 body, and is joyfully met by the wife and children. 
 The former may have a larger output to his credit and 
 be more profitable to his employer; the latter is in 
 every way a larger social asset. For, the real wealth 
 
THE SOCIALIZATION OF BUSINESS 187 
 
 of a country consists, not in its purchasable goods, 
 but in the number of its physically, mentally, and 
 morally healthy men and women. 
 
 Wages not the only concern of workers. — These 
 references to health will show that wages are not the 
 only item, perhaps not even the dominant one in re- 
 gard to labor. Many men will be satisfied with good 
 wages, rational hours, and other material advantages; 
 the men of higher calibre will not be contented with 
 that. They are seeking a new spirit in industry — 
 recognition and respect for the personality of each 
 man. They want an opportunity to express them- 
 selves; and since most of them are merely the human 
 end of a machine while at work, they demand shorter 
 hours so as to pursue an avocation for self-expres- 
 sion. Or, if their occupation takes up nearly all of 
 their time and energy, they want, if not a creative, 
 at least a directive part in production. They want, in 
 short, to be able to put their heart and soul into their 
 work, not merely their brawn and part of their brain 
 for wages. What they resent more than anything else 
 is the treatment meted out to them by many employ- 
 ers who regard them as mere tools for making profits. 
 The long struggle against white phosphorus poison- 
 ing in matches is a case in point. Some manufac- 
 turers obstinately refused to use the more expensive 
 processes even after the Diamond Match Company 
 .had magnanimously offered the use of its patents with 
 their safer processes to its competitors. A Federal 
 law alone compelled them to use the more humani- 
 tarian methods. 
 
 Business a profession. — What is to be done? The 
 old individualistic attitude of exploitation can plainly 
 
188 CHAPTER X 
 
 no longer be maintained. The proposed remedies ol 
 Socialism and Bolshevism are out of the question. 
 The only remedy which remains is to make business 
 a profession, like medicine, law, and teaching, although 
 with larger compensation for the men of great admin- 
 istrative ability and creative talent. 
 
 This proposal has already been made tentatively by 
 John Ruskin. In every civilized nation five great 
 professions have existed: "The soldier's profession is 
 to defend it; the pastor's to teach it; the physician's 
 to keep it in health; the lawyer's to enforce justice 
 in it; the merchant's to provide for it." Each of the 
 professions has its special root of honor, proportioned 
 to the value of its service to the community. But "the 
 duty of all these men is, on due occasion, to die for 
 it (the nation). On due occasion, namely: the soldier, 
 rather than leave his post in battle; the physician, 
 rather than leave his post in plague ; the pastor, rather 
 than teach falsehood; the lawyer, rather than counte- 
 nance injustice; the merchant — what is his due occa- 
 sion of death? It is the main question for the mer- 
 chant. For, truly, the man who does not know when 
 to die, does not know how to live."^ 
 
 Men have always known how to die when they con- 
 sidered the cause worthy. On March 25, 1919, New 
 York City gave a hearty welcome to the Twenty- 
 seventh Division of the National Army, just returned 
 from France. It had lost 1980 men by death; 1709 
 in action and only 271 by disease, owing to the excel- 
 lent care of the physicians whose duty it is to keep 
 the nation in health. All classes, professions, races 
 and creeds were represented in this division, and all 
 
 1 Ruskin, Unto thia Last, chapter I. 
 
THE SOCIALIZATION OF BUSINE 189 
 
 were honored without stint. Other cities welcomed 
 their returning soldiers, because men everywhere 
 appreciate those who live and die, if necessary, in the 
 service of others. Compare this manifestation of 
 appreciation with the incident reported about a 
 merchant. 
 
 "In 1909, Chauchard, the proprietor of the Maga- 
 sins du Louvre, one of the great department stores of 
 Paris, died, leaving behind $20,000,000, a colossal for- 
 tune for French conditions. His 8,000 employees, 
 who had helped him to make this money, had been 
 given to understand that he would leave them at least 
 $5,000,000. Instead, he left them $600,000, the amount 
 of their annual tip. To the poor he left $40,000. His 
 casket of precious wood and bronze, made under his 
 care, cost $100,000; his shroud was cloth of gold; 
 the pearl buttons on his waistcoat were valued at 
 $100,000; opera singers performed at the burial serv- 
 ice; the Grand Cross of the Legion of Honor was 
 borne on a cushion before the hearse. Paris turned 
 out to give him the honor that he seemed to have 
 deserved. Grand stands had been built; hundreds 
 of thousands lined the roads to the Pere la Chaise 
 to see what they called the Chauchard Carnival, a 
 carnival of contempt and mockery. With blasts from 
 motor horns, whistles, hisses, shouts, and catcalls, 
 the plumed hearse swept along. The efforts of the 
 police to check the roar of execration were in vain. 
 This dramatic burst of emotion, with its mingling of 
 selfish anger and righteous moral indignation, is 
 prophetic of the judgment that democracy will pass 
 on selfish wealth and display in coming days when it 
 becomes more class conscious."^ 
 
 1 Walter Rauschenbusch, ChristianizisiF, «fe«" So«i»l OtiJer. pp. 474-5. 
 
190 CHAPTER X 
 
 Change of attitude. — Signs are not wanting that 
 a new spirit has come into business. The many gifts 
 left to education and philanthropy, the various suc- 
 cessful plans in profit-sharing and co-operation, the 
 very considerable raise in wages and the granting of 
 bonuses — each is an indication of an increasing social 
 responsibility. It is recognized more than ever that 
 business must be based on moral and social prin- 
 ciples. Men of inherited or acquired wealth are in 
 many cases devoting themselves to vocations which 
 promise little or no financial return. Above all, our 
 schools of commerce are training men for the pro- 
 fession of business. From every direction pressure 
 and persuasion are brought to bear on the moraliza- 
 tion and socialization of business. And the higher 
 types of business men are not only responding, but 
 are in some cases setting the example, because they 
 recognize that to have money instead of service as 
 their principal object, creates unwholesome conditions 
 through cut-throat competition. 
 
 "The reign of competition is a reign of fear. The 
 rate of mortality for small business concerns is higher 
 than infant mortality. If all the leaden weight of fear 
 ^f all business men who watch a vanishing margin of 
 profit through the year could be gathered up and set 
 before us in some dramatic form, it would palsy our 
 joy in life. Business panics merely render this chronic 
 condition acute, and make men high up, who have 
 been secure in prosperity, feel the same sufferings 
 which others have felt who went down before them. 
 A reign of fear is never a reign of God. Fear makes 
 children lie and business men cheat. In competition 
 the worst man sets the pace, and good men follow 
 
THE SOCIALIZATION OF BUSINESS 191 
 
 because they are afraid. A capable man with no 
 bowels of mercy to hinder, who can wring the last 
 ounce of strength from his men, and who puts women 
 and children to work wherever men can be displaced, 
 can outbid a morally sensitive man, unless the latter 
 has some counterbalancing advantage elsewhere. In 
 a co-operating group, the efficiency and courage of 
 the best members of the team hold the rest up to 
 their level ; in commercial competition, the greed and 
 inhumanity of the worst infect the rest through the 
 medium of fear."^ 
 
 Profits versus service. — The social cost is too high, 
 again, as in the case of the pauperized laborer. For, 
 if our capable men are unable to escape the enervating 
 influence of fear — and the large percentage of failures 
 every year seems strongly to indicate much of it — 
 there is evidently something wrong about the sys- 
 tem, or the attitude of the men. The wrong consists 
 in the fact that the chief stress in business is not 
 placed on service, but on profits. In other words, 
 business has not yet become a profession. 
 
 What is a profession ? It is an occupation or rather 
 a vocation chosen primarily for purposes of service 
 and self-expression. The artist and the literary man 
 strive principally for self-expression; the soldier, 
 teacher, preacher, lawyer and physician aim chiefly 
 at service, each in a special line. They are satisfied 
 with a fair compensation and the opportunity to create 
 or to serve. Each of the professions has, conse- 
 quently, developed its own code or "root" of honor 
 which regulates its activities, irrespective of direct 
 and immediate financial gain. In most cases a salary 
 
 1 Rauschenbusch, ibid, pp. 173-4. 
 
192 CHAPTER X 
 
 or honorarium is provided by the community or an 
 organization ; in others, e. g., those of the artist, writer, 
 and physician, the individual is still dependent on his 
 own efforts to make a living. It is, and will be, very 
 difficult to work out a suitable scheme of compensa- 
 tion for the various forms of business; hints as to 
 how it may be done are, however, already in exist- 
 ence. In many cases, moderate salaries are paid to 
 competent men, even of the highest business ability; 
 in others, commissions are paid. Unfortunately, the 
 salaries are proportioned according to the earning 
 power for the corporations instead of the service ren- 
 dered to the community. Not infrequently the man 
 who does positive harm to society gets a very high 
 compensation from his employers because he assists 
 them either in evading a just law or in foisting an 
 inferior product at high prices on thousands of cus- 
 tomers. Business men have had to protect themselves 
 against such practices by regulations against unfair 
 competition, but the public is still compelled to resort 
 to the tedious process of legislation and the more diffi- 
 cult task of enforcing such laws. It is too early to 
 suggest definite plans for compensating men of high 
 business ability. At present the chief task must be 
 to create a social spirit which will find ways and 
 means of its own for compensating those men in 
 accordance with their ability and the service they 
 render to society. The question which can be an- 
 swered now is whether an injustice would be done 
 to them if their income were curtailed considerably? 
 This question depends on the service rendered. 
 
 Claims of business men. — A few illustrations will 
 make the case clear. Mr. Arthur E. StillwelU claims 
 
 1 Confidence or National Suicide, The Bankers Publ. Co., 1910, p. 50. 
 
THE SOCIALIZATION OF BUSINESS 193 
 
 that Mr. J. J. Hill "created" values at from six to 
 t*n billion dollars. He says: "Therefore we must 
 acknowledge that through Mr. Hill's construction of 
 the Great Northern Railway, the Northwest has re- 
 ceived, first, an increase in land values amounting to 
 six billion four hundred thousand dollars; second, 
 larger annual payrolls for all labor along Great North- 
 ern territory, three hundred million dollars; third, 
 investment opportunities in that region for six bil- 
 lion dollars." 
 
 These words contain the summary of a bill of par- 
 ticulars extending over several pages, in which it is 
 claimed that Mr. Hill single-handed practically pro- 
 duced the values mentioned. The present writer yields 
 to one in admiration for the administrative genuis 
 of Mr. Hill — one of the most capable and public-spir- 
 ited business men this country has produced, and one 
 to whom perhaps no sane person begrudges the com- 
 paratively modest private fortune he made. It is 
 not true, however, that the task undertaken was either 
 new or venturesome. Both to the north and to the 
 south railroads had been built through territory no 
 more inviting than that through which the Great 
 Northern was to run. The more southern transcon- 
 tinental lines were already old stories in 1893, when 
 Mr. Hill finished his line. But right in practically 
 the same latitude the Canadian Pacific had been com- 
 pleted in 1887, and the Northern Pacific in 1883 — a 
 boom in land values and an influx of settlers result- 
 ing in each case. The new road was called "Hill's 
 folly," not so much because no returns were expected 
 on the investment, but because he was satisfied that 
 the road would pay even without generous land grants 
 
194 CHAPTER X 
 
 and other concessions from the State and Federal 
 governments on which the other railroad builders 
 had insisted. Mr. Hill certainly deserves the grati- 
 tude of the country for not despoiling it of millions 
 of acres of land and other valuable concessions, even 
 though necessity rather than inclination was the 
 mother of virtue. 
 
 A few questions may, moreover, justly be asked 
 in regard to Mr. Stillwell's claim. Did Mr. Hill have 
 any share in the development of the steam engine, 
 telegraph, telephone, and other inventions which make 
 a railroad possible? All these things were public 
 knowledge and had been produced in a highly ad- 
 vanced society. He had certainly nothing at all to 
 do with the creation of the land, the timber on its sur- 
 face and the minerals underneath. * Neither did he 
 put much of his own money into it, because he had 
 but little of it. All that he did was to use existing 
 knowledge and to turn existing wealth into a new 
 channel — an undertaking neither risky nor speculative 
 in view of the success of the other transcontinental 
 roads. For this enterprise he deserved and received 
 the esteem of his country, and made more than an 
 ordinary fortune. It is doing our great captains of 
 industry a disservice if extraordinary and unsupport- 
 able claims are made in their behalf as "creators of 
 untold wealth," from which they are delighted to give 
 the people the lion's share. Let us look at another 
 side of a similar problem. 
 
 Services of professional men. — Lord Lansdowne 
 certainly saved Europe hundreds of millions of pounds 
 eterling by negotiating the treaty between Great 
 Britain and Japan and thus averting war. But he has 
 
THE SOCIALIZATION OF BUSINESS 195 
 
 not asked for compensation and nobody has thought 
 of offering it to him. If in July, 1914, there had 
 been a statesman of sufficiently great calibre to avert 
 the World War, he would have been awarded a peer- 
 age or a raise to a higher degree of it, and perhaps 
 a modest fortune, notwithstanding the saving to the 
 world of about $250,000,000,000, not to mention other 
 more frightful losses, which it is impossible to express 
 in economic terms. 
 
 The profession of medicine furnishes the most con- 
 spicuous cases of service to the community without 
 financial reward. Yellow fever has been the scourge 
 of the ages in tropical and subtropical countries, reach- 
 ing, in 1878, as far north as Kentucky. A very mod- 
 est estimate of the annual loss in property alone would 
 be $100,000,000, or $5,000,000,000 in fifty years. When 
 Major Walter Reed, in Havana in 1900, discovered 
 the carrier of the disease, he hesitated to publish his 
 theory until after verification. This occurred under 
 dramatic circumstances which proved the heroism of 
 physicians anew, and proved that science, as well as 
 religion, has its martyrs. Two physicians. Dr. James 
 Carroll and Dr. Jesse W. Lazear, and also a nurse, 
 submitted to the bite of an infected mosquito after 
 the nature and the risk of the experiment had been 
 carefully explained to them. The nurse and Dr. 
 Lazear died from a virulent attack, while Dr. Carroll 
 recovered. A medal and a vote of thanks by Con- 
 gress was Dr. Reed's and Dr. Carroll's only reward. 
 The simultaneous but independent discovery of the 
 bacillus of bubonic plague by Kitasato and Yersin in 
 1894 removed another scourge from the face of the 
 earth which had cost untold millions of human lives — 
 
196 CHAPTER X 
 
 one-fourth, or, it is estimated, forty millions Of the 
 population of Europe in an outlook lasting twenty 
 years after 1352. Perhaps not one in a thousand 
 men know even the names of these benefactors of 
 mankind. Less dramatic but more important is the 
 -discovery of the nature and cure of malaria by Major, 
 now Colonel, Donald Ross, a British army physician, 
 in 1898. It is a low estimate that 500,000,000 people 
 suffer more or less severely from malaria every year. 
 If, at the most conservative estimate, their working 
 power is reduced by only ten dollars, there is an 
 annual loss of $5,000,000,000. Dr. Ross received the 
 Nobel Prize for medicine, worth in money about 
 thirty thousand dollars. The discovery of the cure 
 of hookworm has been equally important, not only to 
 the tropics and sub-tropics, but to our own South, 
 where a vast amount of degeneracy among the poorer 
 classes was caused by this disease. With the aid of 
 the International Health Commission, founded and 
 maintained by Mr. John D. Rockefeller, much of this 
 evil has been averted, and it is possible now to make 
 the most fertile regions of the globe habitable for 
 white men, and productive of vast quantities of food 
 and other goods. 
 
 Civilization based on service. — But why multiply 
 examples? The history of civilization is one con- 
 tinuous illustration of the most valuable inventions 
 and discoveries made by professional men and given 
 to humanity, usually for little or no reward. All of 
 these men, whether warriors, physicians, scientists, 
 or statesmen, have rendered services of an economic 
 character so vast that they cannot be expressed in 
 figures. They labored because they had a profes- 
 
THE SOCIALIZATION OF BUSINESS 197 
 
 sional standard of honor — to work and to serve their 
 best. The creators of spiritual goods, e. g., artists, 
 poets, musicians, moralists, religionists, teachers and 
 philosophers, have often not even gained the esteem 
 of their fellows, although to them we owe most of 
 the things which make our lives human and civilized. 
 
 Financial reward for business men. — It should be 
 frankly admitted that business does not afford the 
 same opportunity for self-expression as art and litera- 
 ture, neither the same fascination as scientific creative- 
 ness, and that, consequently, a higher financial reward 
 should be granted to the producers of economic goods 
 as an incentive to diligent application. This does not 
 mean, however, that they have a right to claim all 
 of the financial returns as a reward for their own 
 talent, whether as promoters or administrators. There 
 are two reasons for this denial. 
 
 As has been indicated in the case of one rail'.oad 
 builder, the business man of to-day utilizes knowledge 
 of theories and practices already socialized. He has 
 in no way contributed to its creation, but simply 
 applies it to a new channel. The community never 
 begrudges very liberal rewards to these men. If they 
 combine inventive with business ability and render 
 new services to man, they are honored as well as made 
 welcome to their wealth. No sane person has ever 
 denied that the inventors of the telegraph, telephone, 
 electric light, wireless, and other useful appliances are 
 entitled to very liberal compensations. When, on the 
 other hand, the business man is merely the exploiter 
 of an invention or discovery, secured by a patent 
 based in the vast majority of cases on socialized 
 knowledge, the public has a right to demand that 
 
198 CHAPTER X 
 
 profits should be kept within certain limits and that 
 exploitation of the community should not be added 
 to that of the inventor. 
 
 The other reason consists in the fact that no society 
 can permit the accumulation of wealth in a few hands 
 without risking its own self-support, if not its very 
 existence. If about 110,000 nobles own one-third of 
 the agricultural land of Russia, there is bound to be 
 servitude on the part of millions of men, and no 
 wholesome social life can exist. Sooner or later there 
 must be an upheaval, and the demagogue will have 
 a free hand with the discontented and illiterate masses. 
 In countries where industry is more advanced, there 
 is a similar danger of having a few corporations 
 manipulate markets to their own advantage against 
 the public welfare. Just where the line against the 
 size of a fortune is to be drawn is a matter of policy 
 of expediency and evolution. The spirit of service 
 and of professional honor must be created first, the 
 details will be worked out later. Indications of this 
 are already at hand. The graded income tax, de- 
 manding in a few cases as much as seventy-five per 
 cent of an income, has come in as a war measure, but 
 is likely to stay in a modified form as a peace measure. 
 
 Inherited wealth. — The cases of inherited wealth 
 and that accrued by the unearned increment are in a 
 different category. If the Russian nobility received 
 its vast estates several centuries ago on condition that 
 they should render military service to the Crown, and 
 if that service has been dispensed with for one hun- 
 dred and fifty years, no one can justly blame the 
 mushik for finding the social order intolerable. If 
 the scion of a New York family is able to spend nearly 
 
THE SOCIALIZATION OF BUSINESS 199 
 
 one million dollars on a coarse and vulgar chorus 
 girl by virtue of inherited wealth, there is certainly 
 something wrong with the body politic. If, again, 
 large areas of land are bought up by persons who 
 have more money than they can possibly use, and 
 are held, without any improvements, for the increas- 
 ing demand of a growing population, society may 
 rightly step in and claim a large share of the incre- 
 ment, because it is due to social causes and not to 
 the ability of the owner. Hence the inheritance tax 
 is just, and it will undoubtedly be made higher in the 
 not distant future. Parents may demur, but society 
 cannot permit itself to be debauched by young men 
 whose purses are far larger than their ability to use 
 them properly. It will be recognized by parents, too, 
 not so many years hence, that they have no right 
 deliberately to tempt their children into a life of waste- 
 ful idleness. How far society will go in all these mat- 
 ters is a question of the future. The introduction of 
 national prohibition is a recent, as the abolition of 
 slavery was an older, manifestation of the public will 
 to eradicate any evil which is plainly against social 
 welfare. Balance will have to be observed, of course, 
 not only for the sake of society but for that of the 
 capable men. Too much of anything is an evil just 
 as much as too little. Millions of dollars may be as 
 great a vexation as too few of them. 
 
 Business and labor. — If business becomes a profes- 
 sion, the relation of capital to labor will gradually be 
 adjusted. The question of wages seems to be in a 
 fair way of being settled owing to the combinations 
 of workingmen. But, as was~^inted out above, that 
 is not the principal problem. It is rather the fact 
 
200 CHAPTER X 
 
 that tht workers of higher grade and of larger calibre 
 resent being treated as mere wealth-producing ma- 
 chines. They desire to give some expression to their 
 creative ability. This problem is being solved by 
 ofifering various rewards for suggestions of improve- 
 ment in the service or for inventions. That still 
 leaves the worker with a mere financial interest in 
 the business. He wants a human, or, rather, a pro- 
 prietary interest in it. That cannot be acquired by 
 merely owning a few shares of stock, but only by 
 a share in the management — a measure already intro- 
 duced under various names in some establishments. 
 
 The Standard Oil Company. — The Standard Oil 
 Company of New Jersey, and some of its affiliated 
 concerns, have worked out a plan for representation 
 in industry. Representatives chosen by the employees 
 in proportion to their number in each plant, form the 
 basis. Joint committees, composed of equal numbers 
 of employees or their representatives and of officers 
 of the company in each plant, form the structure. 
 These committees deal with all matters pertaining to 
 employment, working and living conditions, e. g., 
 co-operation and conciliation, safety and accident, 
 sanitation, health and housing, recreation and educa- 
 tion. Quarterly joint conferences of representatives 
 of labor and of company officers for each district, and 
 an annual conference, similarly constituted, for all dis- 
 tricts, are additional features, capped by the Presi- 
 dent's industrial representative, whose duty consists 
 in visiting the difiFerent plants for conferences with 
 both managers and laborers. The features claimed 
 for the plan are : The right of the employee to report 
 a grievance, whether real or imaginary, to his repre- 
 
THE SOCIALIZATION OF BUSINESS ml 
 
 sentative, and have it adjusted by appeal to higher 
 authorities until it may be brought before the Indus- 
 trial Commission or the State Labor Board. The 
 laborer has thus ample opportunity to get redress 
 for a grievance by continuous appeals. This is im- 
 portant because most frictions occur between workers 
 and subordinate ofificers who are often arbitrary and 
 by whose attitude the higher officials are judged. 
 
 The Whitley Report.— The so-called Whitley Re- 
 port, made by a sub-committee for the Ministry of 
 Reconstruction, applies the principle of representa- 
 tion to all industries of the United Kingdom. There 
 are three stages, national, district, and "works" or 
 plant committees. The national councils are to be 
 composed of representatives of the various national 
 trades unions on the one hand, and representatives 
 of the national employers' associations on the other. 
 District councils will include representatives of dis- 
 trict trades unions and employers' associations. The 
 "works" or plant councils are likewise to have rep- 
 resentatives of employers and employees, but are to 
 meet frequently in joint conference and are to keep in 
 close touch with the district and national councils. 
 The function of these various committees or councils 
 is to establish better relations between capital and 
 labor by granting to the latter a larger share in the 
 consideration of all matters in which it is vitally 
 interested, and to change an attitude of militancy to 
 one of co-operation by a frank partnership of knowl- 
 edge, experience, and good-will. 
 
 Social advantages of plans. — These plans are only 
 installments of others and more fully developed ones 
 still to come. They will assist the laborer to over- 
 
202 CHAPTER X 
 
 come the sense of isolation and detachment from 
 which all modern life, and not industry alone, suffers. 
 Comparatively few occupations offer an opportunity 
 to complete a given product; it is always the result 
 of co-operation, conscious or unconscious, of many 
 "hands." The only way to restore at least some of 
 the joy in work is by bringing the laborer in contact 
 with the other contributing parties, if not directly, at 
 least by representation. This arrangement will be 
 wholesome for capital, labor, and the community. 
 
 Capital has in the past been too prone to consider 
 itself the chief if not the only factor in production. 
 The result was contempt for the cheap labor which 
 could be obtained at mere starvation wages. The 
 degradation which followed in the laborers' families 
 was, perhaps, in many cases a partial justification for 
 this contempt. When the saloons are most frequent 
 around factories and many laborers spend most of 
 their wages for drink, the attitude of some employers 
 in refusing to raise wages because that would mean 
 more drunkenness, is explicable. Better wages and 
 shorter hours have wrought a great change. Most 
 laborers are not only sober and industrious, but ambi- 
 tious and intelligent; and it is these who must be 
 considered primarily and not the blatant demagogues 
 who live by incitement to strikes and disorder. Rep- 
 resentation will bring the better men to the fore. 
 
 Labor, too, will profit from this feature. Respon- 
 sibility will sober many a representative who has been 
 urging impossible claims. It has always had that 
 effect in every relation of life. Many a worker will 
 learn also that employers are not vampires but kind 
 and considerate men, who want to do all they can 
 
-^HE SOCIALIZATION OF BUSINESS 203 
 
 to promote the common welfare, because they know 
 that their own best interests depend on the good- 
 will of the other members of society. 
 
 The community, which ultimately has to pay the 
 cost of all industrial disturbances, will welcome peace 
 between capital and labor, because it will be able to 
 go about its business unafraid and joyfully. 
 
 Such a change will take time ; it will be a matter 
 of evolution. Much will depend on education. Our 
 social consciousness, which frequently is a mere 
 theory, must become a social conscience with corre- 
 sponding practice. As an indication that a change 
 toward better things is not far off, the following In- 
 dustrial Creed of Mr. John D. Rockefeller, Jr., read 
 before the Chamber of Commerce of the United 
 States, December 5, 1918, is given a place here : 
 
 "1. I believe that labor and capital are partners, 
 not enemies ; that their interests are common, not 
 opposed; and that neither can attain the fullest meas- 
 ure of prosperity at the expense of the other, but 
 only in association with the other. 
 
 "2. I believe that the community is an essential 
 party to industry, and that it should have adequate 
 representation with the other parties. 
 
 "3. I believe that the purpose of industry is quite 
 as much to advance social well-being as material pros- 
 perity; that, in the pursuit of that purpose, the inter- 
 ests of the community should be carefully considered, 
 the well-being of employees fully guarded, manage- 
 ment adequately recognized and capital justly com- 
 pensated, and that failure in any of these particulars 
 means loss to all four parties. 
 ^ "4. I believe that every man is entitled to an 
 
204 CHAPTER X 
 
 opportunity to earn a living, to fair wages, to reason- 
 able hours of work and proper working conditions, to 
 a decent home, to the opportunity to play, to learn, 
 to worship, and to love, as well as to toil, and that 
 the responsibility rests as heavily upon industry as 
 upon government or society, to see that these con- 
 ditions and opportunities prevail. 
 
 "5. I believe that diligence, initiative and efficiency, 
 wherever found, should be encouraged and adequately 
 rewarded, and that indolence, indifference and restric- 
 tion of production should be discountenanced. 
 
 "6. I believe that the provision of adequate means 
 of uncovering grievances and promptly adjusting 
 them, is of fundamental importance to the successful 
 conduct of industry. 
 
 "7. I believe that the most potent measure in 
 bringing about industrial harmony and prosperity is 
 adequate representation of the parties in interest ; that 
 existing forms of representation should be carefully 
 studied and availed of insofar as they may be found 
 to have merit and are adaptable to conditions peculiar 
 to the various industries. 
 
 "8. I believe that the most effective structure of 
 representation is that which is built from the bottom 
 up; which includes all employees, which starts with 
 the election of representatives and the formation of 
 joint committees in each industrial plant, proceeds to 
 the formation of joint district councils and annual 
 joint conferences in a single industrial corporation, 
 and admits of extension to all corporations in the 
 same industry, as well as to all industries in a com- 
 munity, in a nation, and in the various nations. 
 
 "9. I believe that the application of right principles 
 
THE SOCIALIZATION OF BUSINESS 20S 
 
 never fails to effect right relations; that 'the letter 
 killeth but the spirit giveth life' ; that forms are wholly- 
 secondary, while attitude and spirit are all important ; 
 and that only as the parties in industry are animated 
 by the spirit of fair play, justice to all and brother- 
 hood, will any plan which they may mutually work 
 out succeed. 
 
 "10. I believe that that man renders the greatest 
 social service who so co-operates in the organization 
 of industry as to afford to the largest number of men 
 the greatest opportunity for self-development and the 
 enjoyment of those benefits which their united efforts 
 add to the wealth of civilization." 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 THE FUNCTION OF NATIONALISM 
 
 Meaning of nationalism. — Clear definitions of nation 
 and nationalism are impossible, because the elements 
 entering into them are too numerous. Roughly speak- 
 ing, the term nationalism is used primarily to indicate 
 adhesion to the same state or political community, 
 and secondarily to circumscribe those with similar 
 cultural ideals. In the latter case political adhesion 
 may be given to the state in which one lives, either 
 from choice or necessity; but one's true allegiance 
 will be given to one's cultural fatherland. Greek 
 families have lived in Constantinople for many genera- 
 tions, but they always look toward Athens as their 
 true home in the cultural sense. There is always 
 a tendency on the part of these dispersed people to 
 make an attempt to turn the spiritual home into a 
 political one. Hence the constant tendency on the 
 part of political rulers to look upon these unassimi- 
 lated elements of the population as dangerous, and 
 to treat them with disguised suspicion or open hos- 
 tility. Nationalism means thus chieflj' a tie that binds 
 and unites a large number of persons to each other 
 in loyalty to common cultural ideals. 
 
 Culture, blood kinship, and nationalism. — Culture 
 has always been the basis of nationalism, although 
 it has not always been emphasized as strongly as in 
 our time. In the historic and prehistoric periods the 
 principal stress was placed upon blood kinship. Only 
 those who could trace their descent from a common 
 
 206 
 
THE FUNCTION OF NATIONALISM 207 
 
 ancestor, were it a deity or a known human being, 
 were supposed to be entitled to one's help and sym- 
 pathy. Whatever ties existed were based on blood. 
 This made the family the all-important institution 
 in those days, as it has remained to this day in China. 
 The horde and the clan were essentially nothing more 
 than enlarged families, and many social customs of 
 primitive peoples can be explained only on this basis. 
 Underneath this blood kinship we discover, how- 
 ever, cultural elements, e. g., language and religion. 
 Blood kinship as such could not act as a bond of 
 cohesion beyond a very narrow circle. It may be said 
 with justice that members of the same litter among 
 animals have a certain amount of instinctive affinity 
 and treat each other with somewhat greater sym- 
 pathy. A few years later, when new interests have 
 led them into diilferent paths and time has wiped out 
 the memory of pleasant associations, instinctive and 
 habitual consideration no longer exists, and the off- 
 spring of the same parents meet as entire strangers. 
 Animals have no way of bringing blood relationship 
 into their consciousness by means of language. The 
 biological descent from the same parents means noth- 
 ing at all to them; to human beings it meant socially 
 everything, because it had been reduced to definite 
 relations by means of thought and language. Ad- 
 hesion to a group on the basis of blood kinship was, 
 consequently, in essence an element of primitive cul- 
 ture rather than of mere biological descent. 
 
 The ability to talk in the same language implied 
 the doing of other things in the same or a similar 
 manner. Information was conveyed by speech, and 
 it was inevitable that the pupil should act like the 
 
208 CHAPTER XI 
 
 teacher both on the basis of example and instruction. 
 A similar mental attitude was thus created, which 
 manifested itself in similar acts in every sphere of life. 
 The bond of adhesion was, therefore, in reality one 
 of nurture and not of nature. This fact was not 
 understood for a long time, and the emphasis was 
 wrongly placed on the biological fact of descent in- 
 stead of on the cultural element of consciously ex- 
 pressed relations. Common descent counted as little 
 among human beings as among animals; putting a 
 value upon it made it a social bond. Valuation is, 
 however, a mental and not a biological fact. 
 
 Warlike qualities and nationalism. — As soon as this 
 was understood, the door was opened for extending 
 social consciousness on the basis of other values, e. g., 
 military, linguistic, and religious. Military ability 
 has always commanded respect, and kings and princes 
 have often chosen men of different nationality to 
 serve them. David had Uriah the Hittite among his 
 officers, and practically all the kings of antiquity 
 xmbodied in their armies men of other nations and 
 races on the basis of warlike qualities. 
 
 Religion and nationalism. — Religion soon became, 
 however, one of the chief bonds among groups of 
 men. The Hebrew might look askance at different 
 nationalities in Canaan, and slay them on racial 
 grounds. If they accepted his religion, they were 
 to be spared. And later, with the greater clarifica- 
 tion of monotheism, a regular campaign was waged 
 for converts from other races. The Pharisees would 
 "compass sea and land to make one proselyte" in 
 their zeal for winning persons for their religion, owing 
 to che greater value placed upon what they regarded 
 
THE FUNCTION OF NATIONALISM 209 
 
 as the true faith than upon mere biological descent 
 from Abraham. On the other hand, many of the fore- 
 most Jews whose religious consciousness had weak- 
 ened, became enamored of the Greek language and 
 civilization. The Hellenists formed an important 
 party among the Jews and were recruited chiefly from 
 the educated and wealthy classes. Greek worldli- 
 ness dashed against Hebrew religion; Greek freedom 
 encountered Hebrew legalism; Greek philosophy met 
 Hebrew simplicity ; Greek radicalism opposed Hebrew 
 conservatism. Each had something to learn from 
 the other, and the result was manifested in Chris- 
 tianity with its emphasis for many centuries on the 
 religious aspect. 
 
 vWith the conversion of Constantine the Great and 
 later of the Franks to Christianity, the religious ele- 
 ment as a bond of group consciousness received 
 greater importance. The wars of Charlemagne were 
 religious as well as political, and during the Middle 
 Ages Europe was divided chiefly into pagan and 
 Christian camps. The Crusades divided Asia and 
 Europe similarly into Mohametan and Christian 
 parties. The French, the English, the Germans, the 
 Magyars, and other Europeans united on the basis 
 of their religion against the Mohametans of dissimilar 
 races but of the same religion; and this division has 
 come down into our own times in the Balkans and 
 certain parts of Asia Minor. The term "unbeliever" 
 became in both camps one of the most reproachful 
 and defamatory. It is, however, losing its force even 
 among the more ignorant peoples of Asia. For, when 
 an attempt was made to unite the Mohametans under 
 the cry of Jehad or "holy war" against certain Chris- 
 
21(> CHAPTER XI 
 
 tians, the followers of the Prophet did not obey, and 
 many of them fought against the head of their own 
 faith on the basis of a newly awakened nationalism. 
 The Arabs no less than the Mohametans 'from India 
 cheerfully engaged in the war against the Turks, be- 
 cause they looked upon them as Turanians. At the 
 present time nationalism outweighs all other bonds 
 of group cohesion in extent and importance. 
 
 Degrees of relationship. — What, then, is national- 
 ism ? A definition cannot be given, as already stated ; 
 an attempt will be made, however, to describe the 
 elements entering into it. Professor Giddings^ dis- 
 tinguishes nine degrees of relationship which may 
 exist among human beings: consanguinity or blood 
 kinship; propinquity or mere living together in the 
 same locality, leading eventually to social and marital 
 intercourse; nationality, including those who from 
 birth have been of the same speech and political asso- 
 ciation; potential nationality, including all those who 
 dwell together in the same state and will sooner or 
 later speak the same language; ethnic race, compris- 
 ing those who are related in nationality and language 
 and have similar psychical characteristics, e. g., the 
 Slavs, consisting of the Russians, Poles, Chechs, 
 Slovaks, Croatians, Serbians, and a few smaller peo- 
 ples; glottic race, or those who in the remote past 
 have had a common language and culture, e. g., the 
 Aryans, consisting of the Teutons, Celts, Latins, 
 Greeks, Slavs, and some people of Persia and of India, 
 whose languages are all traceable to ancient Sanscrit; 
 chromatic race, or those who belong to the same glot- 
 tic race and have the same ffeneral color of the skin 
 
 I Inductive Sociology, p. 49, ff. Macmillan Company, 1901, New York. 
 
THE FUNCTION OF NATIONALISM 211 
 
 and type of hair; cephalic race, or those who have 
 the same or similar-cranial structure, e. g., the round- 
 headed and the long-headed peoples; humanity, com- 
 prising all races of the human species. Professor Gid- 
 dings assumes that relationship, and with it the inten- 
 sity of consciousness of kind, is constantly diminish- 
 ing as we proceed from consanguinity to humanity, 
 but that there must have been a common ancestry to 
 all human beings. Our concern is only with nation- 
 ality or nationalism. 
 
 Common psychic attitude. — The dominant element 
 in nationalism is a common psychical attitude toward 
 life. The chief agency for expressing one's attitude 
 is language. The attitude may be almost purely sub- 
 jective; so nationalism cannot become articulate with- 
 out language. This is the reason why so many dor- 
 mant nationalities waken into life when a poet or an 
 orator depicts m glowing phrases all the glories and 
 virtues of their ancestors. He becomes the means 
 of expressing their attitude, and the more he suc- 
 ceeds in articulating their hopes and aspirations, the 
 more fully will he arouse them to a sense of their 
 national consciousness. A nation without poets ancj 
 other artists will soon die, unless compensation be 
 had along other lines. 
 
 Religion a bond of union. — Religion is another im- 
 portant element in nationalism. In some cases, al- 
 though constantly fewer, it is even more important 
 than language. The Spanish and Portuguese Jews 
 have little in common with those of Russia and Poland 
 except religion and a very slight knowledge of ancient 
 Hebrew, but they have a common consciousness which 
 unites them under the same nationalistic term. The 
 
212 CHAPTER XI 
 
 Serbs and the Croats might have united earlier under 
 the name of Jugo-Slavs had it not been for slight 
 differences of religion, the former being Greek Ori- 
 ental and the latter Roman Catholic. It remains yet 
 to be seen whether the Slovaks, a large percentage 
 of whom are Lutherans, will feel happy under the 
 Roman Catholic Chechs, unless the latter become 
 very liberal in religion. The difference between the 
 Irish and the English has been more one of religion 
 than of anything else, since this initial division into 
 different faiths tended to increase other features of 
 friction which have arisen in their relations. Per 
 contra, the Turkish Empire furnishes an excellent 
 illustration of religion uniting, until recently, races 
 of different glottic and chromatic origins. Religion 
 tends to lose its strength as a bond of union in pro- 
 portion to the increase in education among its adher- 
 ents, because among ignorant peoples it is the chief 
 if not the only spiritual interest, while educated per- 
 sons have many interests of diverse character. 
 
 A common experience, a bond of union. — Common 
 experiences in the past, either of achievements or of 
 oppression, are another link in the formation of 
 nationalism. A great and glorious history tends to 
 elate national consciousness to a high degree, while 
 one of suffering is apt to depress it and make it 
 pathological. In the latter case we have to deal with 
 "a balked disposition" which must find an expression 
 in speculation instead of action. It is characteristic 
 of nearly all gifted peoples to turn to philosophical 
 or religious speculation under political oppression, 
 partly to find an explanation for their misfortunes 
 and partly to nurse their sense of wounded su- 
 
THE FUNCTION OF NATIONALISM 213 
 
 periority; they can at least think and write, while 
 the oppressors can only act like brutes. Speculation 
 is apt to take a pessimistic turn under these condi- 
 tions. The value of life is likely to be under-esti- 
 mated, and refuge is often taken in "other worldli- 
 ness." Hindu philosophy and much of that of the 
 later Greeks is due to this resignation, while less 
 gifted peoples like the Armenians attribute their 
 troubles to the decrees of an inscrutable God for their 
 purification. Nearly all peoples flock to their relig- 
 ious shrines in times of national disaster, partly for 
 purposes of consolation and partly in pious resig- 
 nation. 
 
 Exploitation a bond of union. — Economic ex- 
 ploitation tends to accentuate this attitude of help- 
 lessness and to create a state of abnormal suspicion. 
 It is almost impossible, even when on friendly terms, 
 and far away from the scene of oppression, to get a 
 frank answer from a member of a long-oppressed race 
 to an entirely innocent question. The habit of equivo- 
 cating has been ingrained into the very core of con- 
 sciousness. Whether you ask for the health of the 
 wife, about the condition of business, or the political 
 outlook, the answer is always entirely non-committal, 
 accompanied most likely by a significant gesture or 
 a shrug of the shoulder. This attitude naturally 
 leads the oppressors to look upon the oppressed as 
 stupid and treacherous, while the oppressed accuse 
 their masters of every possible crime, and are in- 
 clined to develop according to Nietzsche a "slave 
 morality" for their own protection and the preserva- 
 tion of the remnant of their national self-respect. 
 Experiences of this kind may keep different peoples 
 
214 CHAPTER XI 
 
 socially apart, even though they live side by side for 
 centuries. Almost any section of the Balkans will 
 serve as a.n illustration. 
 
 Achievements a bond of union. — Normally when 
 national life has proceeded successfully, or when 
 periods of oppression have been short and not severe, 
 and the list of achievements to one's credit is rea- 
 sonably long, nationalism implies a healthy egotism 
 and a wholesome optimism Such a people has a 
 high regard for itself and considers itself of great 
 value, not only to itself but to mankind. No nation 
 has achieved much without a certain amount of self- 
 esteem and self-reliance. The obsequious Chinaman 
 is apt to look back upon what his ancestors have done 
 and fail to strive for anything new. 
 
 There are many dangers lurking in this high self- 
 appraisal. One is that of considering oneself the 
 greatest nation. This conceit came easily in the past, 
 since travel was rare and everyone met only those of 
 his own people in his short journeys around the coun- 
 try. To this may be added the world-old clannish- 
 ness of every group to consider itself as "the people" 
 chiefly on religious grounds when polytheism and 
 henotheism were still in vogue. This ignorance of 
 other peoples' achievements easily and naturally led 
 to exaggeration which was and still is deliberately 
 fostered by national leaders and educators. School 
 books of every nation on history furnish ample illus- 
 trations. 
 
 In one of the most widely published German books 
 the excellence of the dentsche sprache was brought 
 home to the reader in this delectable manner: "The 
 Frenchman grunts, the Englishman snorts, the Rus- 
 
THE FUNCTION OF NATIONALISM 215 
 
 sian hisses; only the German talks." A highly edu- 
 cated Scotch-Irishman, whom the author tried to initi- 
 ate into the mysteries of the German gender, repeat- 
 edly and fervently exclaimed: "Thank God, I was 
 born with an English tongue!" The well-nigh im- 
 possible task of mastering a foreign language com- 
 pletely makes it difficult even for the educated to 
 enter into the spirit of other nations sympathetically 
 and appreciatively. The masses of the people are 
 hopelessly isolated from foreign contact, and in- 
 evitably come to look upon themselves, their ways of 
 doing things, their habits and customs as superior. 
 
 Nationalism exclusive. — In times of national crises 
 it is this very spirit of exclusiveness that is appealed 
 to and intensified. Every weapon at the command 
 of the leaders is employed to emphasize national 
 excellences, hide weaknesses, and create an atmos- 
 phere of dignified and resolute confidence. What is 
 called "morale" in military parlance is simply the 
 national spirit set in motion. It is usually allied with 
 religion, and even a sort of ancestor worship. . A 
 tribal consciousness, always present in the masses, is 
 awakened with all its narrow limitations and hideous 
 grossness, cupidity, and cruelty. Language, the chief 
 vehicle of nationalism, is debased into the principal 
 means of conceit and hatred. Everything is done to 
 make the masses feel, think, and act alike at the 
 command of the leaders ; crowd consciousness reigns 
 supreme, and homogeneity is reduced to the absurd. 
 
 Nationalism result of leadership. — In the past, 
 nationalism was largely a matter of leadership, and 
 usually wrong leadership. It is so to this day in 
 many European countries, where nationalistic catch- 
 
216 CHAPTER XI 
 
 words are used by the upper classes to perpetuate 
 the economic subjection of the masses. Much of the 
 "little-nationalism" of Italy and Germany before 1870 
 was due to interested leaders who found it to their 
 advantage to keep alive a purely local patriotism. 
 The princelings, both secular and ecclesiastical, built 
 churches and palaces for the people to admire, en- 
 gaged poets to sing their praises, and erected monu- 
 ments to have posterity laud them. The entourage 
 of the petty courts naturally enough was interested 
 in extending their influence among the masses until 
 eventually there was sacrcely a household which was 
 not concerned in the maintenance of conditions as they 
 were. This division perpetuated the disunion of both 
 Italy and Germany, until men of sufificiently large 
 vision and strong will arose to strike the petty princes 
 from their thrones. The cry of persecution arose there 
 as it has arisen since in other countries. It is par- 
 ticularly loud at present when all princes in Russia,* 
 Germany and Austria have had to abdicate. 
 
 Small nations not sacred. — There is, however, noth- 
 ing sacrosanct about a small or an oppressed nation. 
 Its policies are usually petty in almost exact propor- 
 tion to its size in territory, and its contributions to 
 mankind are frequently material for the hilarity of 
 nations. Scarcely any of the oppressed nationalities 
 have added anything valuable to our stock of knowl- 
 edge; their national consciousness has, as a rule, 
 been awakened by men from their own midst who had 
 learned something about liberty at foreign universi- 
 ties, and tried to apply the methods of a big country 
 to a small one. Whether they were poets or profes- 
 sors, they claimed to find value in the cultural back- 
 
THE FUNCTION OF NATIONALISM 217 
 
 ground of their people and began to stir up the dying 
 flame of nationalism. Nothing was said about the 
 exactions and economic exploitation of the people by 
 the petty rulers; but loud denunciations of the much 
 more efficient and humane government of the "oppres- 
 sors" were sent forth, until other countries sent help. 
 After liberation it was found that the liberated were 
 not worth ftie blood and treasure poured out for them. 
 It is much to be feared that many of the little nation- 
 alities clamoring at present for recognition in Europe 
 will prove a great disappointment to their liberators. 
 It is — to put the case concretely and without wound- 
 ing the susceptibilities of peoples nearer home — not 
 at all likely that Korea would prove able to keep 
 the progressive forces going if Japan should with- 
 draw. If the Koreans have sufficient ability and 
 interest to throw off their conquerors, they deserve to 
 be free; but it is not to the advantage of mankind 
 to have another people send emissaries all over the 
 civilized world to solicit funds and men for their 
 liberation, only to put the same old corrupt politicians 
 into power again. Our country is in danger of stand- 
 ing sponsor for too many of these would-be nations 
 without knowing that as a rule a few great land 
 owners and other privileged persons are the only ones 
 who will be benefited, while the burden upon the 
 people will be made heavier. 
 
 If such nations acquire liberty, they usually launch 
 out upon an imperialistic career, if the chances are 
 half-way favorable. This has been the case with 
 Prussia, Hungary and Bulgaria, and is now the case 
 with Italy, Greece, and Rumania New disturbances 
 are thus created by the liberation and unification of 
 
218 CHAPTER XI 
 
 peoples. It is not strange that this should be so, 
 since nationality cannot be created; it is a slow de- 
 velopment, like everything else. It requires a cer- 
 tain maturity of political and moral thinking to estab- 
 lish a nation, and that can be acquired only by long 
 experience through contact with many conditions. 
 One of the best tests is the control of colonies. 
 
 Great Britain made one grievous mistake in her 
 treatment of the American colonies. But she quickly 
 learned her lesson, and has since granted full auton- 
 omy to those of her sister states which were capable 
 of profiting by that privilege. There is to-day no 
 other example of such a firmly knit empire as the 
 British, held together not by force but by the ideas and 
 principles of a true nationalism. Spain has lost all 
 her colonies because she wanted to exploit them by 
 tyrannical measures. France is not particularly suc- 
 cessful as a colonizer, because her attitude is not 
 liberal enough in granting concessions to non-Gallic 
 peoples. Germany has had no success at all, because 
 she not only exploited the natives but required uni- 
 formity in all respects to her methods. 
 
 Nationalism and unity.— .Healthy nationalicm does 
 not mean uniformity, but unity of spirit. The latter 
 permits many variations, and even conflicts within 
 reasonable limits. This latitude is necessary for 
 growth. Where uniformity and homogeneity are 
 stressed too much, individual initiative is stunted and 
 killed. Only with many and varied contacts is growth 
 possible, because new and valuable suggestions can 
 come only that way. To permit such latitude two 
 conditions are necessary: there must be a high type 
 of leader, and the population must be comparatively 
 
THE FUNCTION OF NATIONALISM 219 
 
 well developed mentally to appreciate the principles 
 by which it must be guided. 
 
 Nationalism and types of mind. — There are, roughly 
 speaking, three types of mind among men who count 
 in a nation. The first can see only one side of every 
 question; it is the mind of the very simple man and 
 of the fanatic. The second sees both sides, but sees 
 them alternately or successively, never together. The 
 third sees both or all sides of a question, and sees 
 them contemporaneously, weighs them, balances them 
 against each other, and comes, perhaps slowly, to a 
 final and firm judgment. The third is called the 
 synthetic or inductive mind, and is found in all great 
 leaders. It is the business of the leaders not only to 
 come to a final and firm conclusion by weighing and 
 balancing every aspect of a problem, but also to im- 
 press their conclusion upon the men with the second 
 type of mind by showing them that a situation must 
 be viewed as a whole and simultaneously, and con- 
 vincing the men of the first type of mind that prob- 
 lems cannot be solved by looking at them from one 
 angle only. No nation which has not been blessed 
 with leaders of this type has ever succeeded in achiev- 
 ing great and permanent things. 
 
 On the other hand, the population must have a 
 fairly large percentage of men who belong to the sec- 
 ond class, men who may be convinced if given good 
 reasons. The men of the first type generally fall in 
 line after, perhaps stubbornly, insisting on their own 
 point of view, because their arguments are usually 
 borrowed, and they are eventually likely to entertain 
 a new line of argument, provided they can be shown 
 that it is really what they want. 
 
220 CHAPTER XI 
 
 Only nations with a long history and a democratic 
 government are fortunate enough to possess such 
 leaders and populations. Both are the result of meet- 
 ing many and varied situations with a frank and open 
 mind. These nations are never imperialistic, because 
 they recognize the right of other peoples to go their 
 own way, even though they may blunder many times, 
 since that is usually the only way to learn. New 
 nations are as a rule controlled by imperialists, 
 chiefly aristocrats, who are unable to see more than 
 one aspect of a problem at a time. More land is an 
 advantage; take it. What the later consequences 
 may be, they neither care nor are able to see. They 
 may lead to war. What of it? The leaders will be 
 dead and gone, and meanwhile they have their own, 
 selfish way. A quotation will illustrate this difference 
 as applied to present-day problems.^ 
 
 "Switzerland, like Denmark, is dif.inclined to accept 
 territory that does not belong to her. Both of these 
 small nations are suspicious of territory taken away 
 from the Central Powers for strategic reasons by the 
 Allies and added to them, perhaps to escape the in- 
 demnity, by vote of the populations concerned. There 
 are no purer democracies in the world than Denmark 
 and Switzerland, and no better examples of the ulti- 
 mate common sense and justice on which real peace 
 must rest. One can almost measure the democracy of 
 a people by the moderation of its claims. Poland, 
 with an aristocratic clerical oligarchy in control, de- 
 mands territory including millions of aliens. Ru- 
 mania, with a ruling class as corrupt as any in Europe, 
 has an endless appetite. Jugoslavia, basically a 
 
 1 The New Republic, June 7, 1919, p. 163. 
 
THE FUNCTION OF NATIONALISM 221 
 
 peasant democracy, shows moderation. Czecho- 
 slovakia, semi-democratic, is only semi-extravagant. 
 It is the real democracies like Denmark and Switzer- 
 land that offer not only words, but deeds, for the 
 instruction of the world." 
 
 Nationalism and democracy. — America may be 
 mentioned among the pure democracies. In our war 
 with Spain we retained, almost against our will, Porto 
 Rico and the Philippine Islands, and liberated Cuba. 
 To the Philippines we have already promised com- 
 plete independence. The present war finds us with no 
 claims against the Central Powers except very small 
 indemnities for wanton destruction of our ships. The 
 repeated offers to accept mandates over distant peo- 
 ples we have declined. The greatest manifestation of 
 generosity ever exhibited by any nation was shown by 
 our voluntarily returning to China about one-third 
 of the indemnity granted to us after the Boxer Rebel- 
 lion. In 1919 we righted the wrong done to Colom- 
 bia fifteen years before in acquiring the Canal Zone 
 from the newly formed republic of Panama, by pay- 
 ing $25,000,000 for this strip of land. 
 
 Our treatment of China and of the other peoples 
 just mentioned has borne good and ample fruit. It 
 has earned us the gratitude of the Chinese people in 
 particular, and has given us a reputation for fair and 
 disinterested treatment of weaker peoples. The man- 
 dates over several Asiatic and African populations 
 may not have been offered us with entirely unselfish 
 motives, because "Uncle Sam's" reputation as an in- 
 ternational "easy mark" has spread to the farthest 
 corners of the earth. Our too great eagerness to 
 help every oppressed or unoppressed people was due 
 
22i. CHAPTER XI 
 
 partly to lack of experience with non-American affairs 
 and partly to the overflowing generosity of a young 
 and prosperous nation. Our statesmen are learning 
 very important lessons about the complexity of Euro- 
 pean politics at the Peace Conference in Paris. Things 
 are not as simple from near-by as they look from a 
 safe distance of three thousand or six thousand miles. 
 We went into the World War primarily with idealis- 
 tic motives because we could not conceive why every 
 nation did not solve the problems of its foreign popu- 
 lation in as simple a manner as we have done and are 
 now increasingly trying to do, by Americanization. 
 We are practicing, and very energetically, too, the 
 very policy for which we are condemning the Ger- 
 mans, the Russians, the Italians, and even the Turks. 
 The problem of Americanizing our numerous immi- 
 grants had been an easy task, because these people 
 came to us voluntarily and were comparatively well 
 distributed. Their children knew as a rule little of 
 the old home and language, and readily fell into at 
 least the superficial American ways. We are now 
 learning that the acquisition of English and of ready- 
 made clothing does not necessarily imply assimila- 
 tion, and the whole governmental machinery has been 
 set in motion to supply the deficiency. This is en- 
 tirely right, because otherwise we should repeat the 
 mistakes of European policy in letting small peoples 
 live within the confines of larger nations. In the 
 past, oppressive measures were rare; the different 
 governments trusted to the forces of time and a higher 
 culture for gradually assimilating the smaller peo- 
 ples. Only when nationalistic aspirations arose, and, 
 owing to their intensity and in many cases lack of 
 
THE FUNCTION OF NATIONALISM 223 
 
 justification, threatened trouble for the larger group, 
 were severe measures taken. We have no right to 
 condemn the respective governments for taking such 
 steps, since we are now attempting to do the very 
 same thing, but with better success owing to the ab- 
 sence of historical and economic complications. One 
 language and one national spirit should be dominant 
 in America. 
 
 Whether we are not losing something valuable by 
 too complete a crushing-out of all foreign traits among 
 our immigrants is another question. We are anx- 
 ious, perhaps too much so. to carry our methods of 
 efficiency into every sphere of life, and produce the 
 eternal sameness in dress, dancing and amusements. 
 Our lives might be richer aesthetically if the immi- 
 grants were encouraged to retain some of their folk- 
 dances and some customs and costumes, at least for 
 special occasions. Many valuable handicrafts are lost 
 owing to our method of production; it might be pos- 
 sible and it would be profitable if the experiment made 
 at Hull House, Chicago, were repeated more gener- 
 ally, viz., to have the women of the different immi- 
 grant races practice their special national crafts for 
 home and commercial production. Some hand-made 
 goods might furnish a relief from those made by ma- 
 chine. Some of the folk-dances are certainly superior 
 to the offerings of the last few years of our terpsi- 
 chorean masters; and not even the Colonial dames 
 would deny that our cooking is in need of improve- 
 ment. Paris-made gowns are occasionally beautiful, 
 sometimes ridiculous, but always expensive. There 
 is no reason why the picturesque costumes of our 
 immigrants should not be retained, or utilized for the 
 
224 CHAPTER XI 
 
 creation of a national dress. American clothes are 
 at best monotonous to the eye; a little color would 
 do them no harm. If a certain type of native had 
 its way, we would all have to appear in sombre dress, 
 visagey»and with nothing but prayer-meeting talk on 
 our lips. All of the more important immigrant groups 
 would be able to contribute some important element 
 to our national life, physically as well as psychically, 
 if we only let them do it. But in our anxiety for 
 unity we are apt to insist on uniformity, and reduce 
 our life to a dull gray. 
 
 Our lives might be made more attractive and 
 aesthetic without loss in efficiency. We are apt not 
 only to work hard, but to play hard, and thus to 
 turn recreation into a task. Even our elderly golf 
 players, most in need of relaxation, set their teeth 
 to beat Colonel Bogey. The result? They get back 
 to work more tired from the unusual exertion. That 
 is not the way to enjoy life or to become artistically 
 creative. And we have certainly not excelled in any 
 of the arts, although we have an abundance of 
 "canned" music and of reprints of every famous pic- 
 ture. Even in the handicrafts the Europeans are still 
 our masters. 
 
 Future of nationalism. — What of the future of 
 nationalism? There are two tendencies which dom- 
 inate life at the present time — nationalism and inter- 
 nationalism. The former is an extension and expres- 
 sion of individualism, the latter of socialism. The 
 whole drift of the argument of the preceding chap- 
 ters has been in favor of individualism, and must 
 now be for nationalism. It is the individual and the 
 nation who create, not society and the inter-nation. 
 
THE FUNCTION OF NATIONALISM ciS 
 
 In the economy of mankind the nation plays the same 
 role as the individual in society. This calls for a 
 strong and vigorous national life, since mankind can 
 be advanced only through the contributions of nations. 
 There is such a thing as a national spirit which dif- 
 ferentiates each people from others. 
 
 But just as there are colorless, nondescript and 
 parasitic individuals, so there are racial stocks which 
 have survived through the charity of other races. In 
 either case the situation is not wholesome and should 
 be terminated in the course of time. 
 
 As a matter of history, a solution has always been 
 offered in the extermination or the assimilation of 
 weaker races. Any nation which had sufficient 
 ability and vitality might have to yield to a superior 
 race; it was able, however, to adapt itself to the 
 new circumstances and to enrich the conqueror's life 
 by its own contribution to civilization. What was 
 really essential, survived in a new form. The ineffi- 
 cient and the parasitic peoples were either enslaved 
 or exterminated. More recently in the history of man- 
 kind they were allowed to live by sufferance. A 
 nation may not live, however, by charity like an indi- 
 vidual. The test of efficiency must in the long run 
 'be applied to it. And within historic times we have 
 seen people after people pass away because it could 
 not meet this test, or it was held in bondage. The 
 latter is no longer permitted by the enlightened con- 
 science of mankind, and the test will have to be met. 
 The Indian is passing away before our very eyes, 
 while the Negro is making tremendous strides upward, 
 nowithstanding his many handicaps. He is advanc- 
 ing, however, because he is able to profit from the 
 
226 CHAPTER XI 
 
 help which has been extended to him. In South 
 Africa he is being gradually driven back, and shares 
 the fate of the American Indian. Whether climatical, 
 physiological or social conditions are responsible for 
 this difference, need not be discussed here.^ 
 
 One thing is clear, hough: It is a matter of ability. 
 A people must either contribute something to the 
 benefit of mankind, or must at least be able to adapt 
 itself to an advancing civilization. In the latter case 
 a nation will and always must play a minor role in 
 the world. This statement should not be understood 
 in the political sense, but in the civilizational. The 
 Dutch people make proportionately as many contribu- 
 tions to-day as at the time when the Netherlands 
 were the foremost commercial and colonizing nation. 
 The Scandinavians have never, except for a short 
 time in the seventeenth century, played a great part 
 politically, but they have added materially to civiliza- 
 tion. The Russians have often been in the forefront 
 politically and militarily, but have made, proportionate 
 to their number, only a few additions to the extant 
 stock of knowledge. Nationality is, however, largely 
 a matter of leadership ; for, as has been stated, a people 
 finds its expression and its consummation in its 
 leaders. 
 
 Nationalism and leadership. — This throws a tremen- 
 dous responsibility upon the men who control nations. 
 The civilized world has recently come to recognize 
 what was known to a few men long ago, that a whole 
 nation may be led astray and subjugated psychically 
 by a small class of mediocre but well-organized men. 
 Germany is now paying the price for her willingness 
 
 1 See the author's "Health and Social Progress" on this topic. 
 
THE FUNCTION OF NATIONALISM i.a 
 
 to follow one man and his clique. In this case the 
 achievements of a dynasty helped to create an atmos- 
 phere of lustre and almost of inspiration for the 
 claimant of honors. In the case of Abraham Lin- 
 coln, the shaping of national life was due almost en- 
 tirely to sheer personal ability and integrity. The 
 results were necessarily very dififerent. If a man has 
 to work up from below, he must have the qualities 
 which appeal to and benefit the people; if he works 
 from above down, the semblance of them is sufficient, 
 since he can claim the achievements of other men as 
 his own or shift responsibility upon their shoulders. 
 The people are, however, largely what the leaders 
 make them. 
 
 Who are the leaders? In an aristocracy they come 
 chiefly from the old and wealthy families which have 
 been prominent principally as large land-owners and 
 leaders of armies — men whose ambition has always 
 been to foster a strong monarchy in order to keep the 
 people politically and economically subject to the 
 "crown and altar." Owing to their prominence and 
 power they are able to draw every capable man from 
 the people into their sphere of influence and to innocu- 
 late him with their point of view. When established 
 in their rights and powers, this is not a difficult task, 
 and men with moderate talents usually succeed in 
 doing it. In a democracy a man's personal influence 
 alone counts, because no lustre is attached to his 
 class. Theodore Roosevelt might have had Dutch, 
 German, French, Irish, and other strains in his blood; 
 nobody would have known or cared if he had not been 
 the talented man he was. This diflEerence has always 
 existed between aristocracies and democracies^ an4 
 
228 CHAPTER XI 
 
 just as invariably it has given the tone to the national 
 character. In the former there has been a looking 
 upward with consequent obsequiousness and loss of 
 self-reliance; in the latter a looking around to find 
 ways and means for usefulness and independence. If 
 the test of efficiency holds, the future belongs to 
 national democracies. 
 
 Qualifications of leaders. — ^What leaders must demo- 
 cratic nations have if they are to survive? Many 
 democracies have perished for lack of proper leaders; 
 Athens is a good illustration. A democratic constitu- 
 tion is not necessarily a panacea for national ills, as 
 most of the Central American republics prove. 
 
 Education. — The first requisite on the part of such 
 leaders is a liberal education. What has passed 
 under that name was usually some study of Greek, 
 Latin, history, philosophy, and a modicum of mathe- 
 matics. This traditional culture never could become 
 really liberating, because of the narrowness and 
 sterility of its human interests. "It was intended to 
 emancipate only a few privileged people ; and it was, 
 consequently, associated with limited human sym- 
 pathies, enfeebled social faith, and a merely repressive 
 moral code. The beneficiaries of an indifferently 
 human social system were obliged to reconcile an 
 ideal and a technique of humane culture with moral 
 standards which made self-restraint obligatory on all 
 except themselves. They were to enjoy the advan- 
 tages of immediate moral and intellectual liberation, 
 which would enrich their experience, quicken their 
 imagination, satisfy their curiosity, and release the 
 internal springs of instinctive goodness. But the 
 mass of men and women were to be morally ap- 
 
THE FUNCTION OF NATIONALISM 229 
 
 praised, not by virtue of what they succeeded in doing 
 with their lives, but by virtue of what they refrained 
 from doing. The method of socially educating the few 
 differed essentially from the method of socially edu- 
 cating the many; and this difference added a strain 
 of hypocrisy and illiberality to a system of education 
 which needed above all to be candid, inquisitive, 
 thorough-going and humane."^ It engendered a class 
 consciousness of superiority on the part of those who 
 had learned certain non-essential things and who usu- 
 ally maintained a parasitic relation to society. What 
 is needed is a broad outlook upon human relations and 
 their interdependence; a recognition that whatsoever 
 is helpful to society is worthy of esteem, whether it 
 be the digging of a ditch or the composing of a can- 
 tata; a demand that nobody should live by the efforts 
 or the exploitation of another. •' 
 
 Such an education implies open-mindedness and a 
 willingness to progress. It means a readiness to 
 abandon the good in favor of the better. Certain pro- 
 fessions, e. g., the law and the ministry, are habitually 
 averse to change, because they have been trained to 
 look upon the decisions of their predecessors as sacred. 
 Yet it is from these classes that most of the rulers 
 have come, owing to the prestige which the bar and 
 the church enjoyed. Being very naturally averse to 
 change, they fastened upon the community an ideal 
 of the immutability of existing institutions. As they 
 were usually the only educated class, they had little 
 difficulty in impressing their standard upon the 
 masses, resulting in subservience and loss of initia- 
 tive on the part of the latter. 
 
 1 Herbert Croly, Progressive Democracy (p. 417, f.). The Macmillan 
 Company, New York. 
 
230 CHAPTER XI 
 
 Compared to this conservatism, the leader in a 
 national democracy needs a large faith in the per- 
 fectibility not only of the individual, but of social 
 relations and institutions. There is nothing sacred in 
 the virorld except what serves humanity. And the 
 leader must always be on the alert to exchange a once 
 serviceable but now outworn social device for one 
 of greater usefulness. 
 
 This implies an extension of opportunity to every 
 boy and girl for a social education. Jf the latter 
 should require a long term in school, college, or uni- 
 versity, it must not be denied to the capable. Most 
 leaders have come in the past from the economically 
 and socially favored classes, not by virtue of their 
 greater natural endowment but because of their 
 greater opportunity for development. Every demo- 
 cratic nation has produced leaders from the masses, 
 and the number is likely to increase if educational 
 facilities are extended. A vast amount of talent has 
 lain dormant in the past, because aristocracies with 
 their comparatively fixed social status were able to 
 get along with a limited amount of brains. A demo- 
 cratic nation needs every talented person owing to 
 the vast number of problems pressing for solution. 
 This development of whatever talent there is will give 
 the masses a chance for expansion and self-expression 
 instead of merely for the restraint which has so sedu- 
 lously been preached to them. 
 
 The leaders, from wherever they may come, must 
 have the ability of impressing their fellow citizens 
 with the fact that there are three possible relations 
 between men — the parasitic, or being served by others ; 
 the charitable, or serving others at one's own expense 
 
THE FUNCTION OF NATIONALISM 231 
 
 and sacrifice; the co-operative, or serving and being 
 served by others. The enlargement of personality of 
 normal human beings can take place only under the 
 third. And a democratic nation must insist on the 
 maintenance of this relation. 
 
 Clear thinking. — Who, then, are to be the leaders? 
 Rarely, if ever, the abstract thinkers, but the men who 
 have the ability to give ideal values to present situa- 
 tions by relating them to social service. The artist, 
 the philosopher, the statesman, the scientist, the em- 
 ployer, and the workingman, have each a function 
 to perform in this connection. No man lives to him- 
 self alone ; every man lives by the good-will of others. 
 Only where these social relations are recognized and 
 applied can there be a nation in the true sense of 
 the word; and only there will every man find th" 
 completion of his own being in the larger relations 
 to his fellows. 
 
 Nationalism and art. — Such a people will produce 
 its own peculiar national life by virtue of the develop- 
 ment of its talents. Since every man is more or less 
 unique, there is bound to be a somewhat unique 
 national life. This must express itself not only in 
 great inventions, scientific and social, but chiefly in 
 the arts. Science is international because it is pri- 
 marily intellectual. The arts are and must always 
 remain national, because they give expression to the 
 subjective aspect of the mind and are predominantly 
 emotional. It is for this reason that all great artists 
 and literary men have been pronounced nationalists, 
 and have dealt with national topics. Their greatness 
 depended in fact on their ability to present subjects 
 with which they were emotionally saturated, and to 
 
232 CHAPTER XI 
 
 depict them from the point of view of an interested 
 participant instead of from that of a disinterested 
 observer. This means that the artist and literary man 
 must choose as far as possible contemporary sub- 
 jects, if he would give the best expression to his talent. 
 That is the secret of all great art. The gods and 
 goddesses were real persons to Homer ; to the modern 
 imitator of the Iliad they are mere superstitions. 
 There must necessarily be a difference in the attitude 
 and in the treatment. To Dante, hell, purgatory and 
 heaven were actual places; to the modern artist they 
 are mere symbols. The poet, the painter, and the 
 composer of to-day must choose contemporary sub- 
 jects if they would interpret life to their fellows; and 
 these they must present from the national point of 
 view, because the spirit of the nation seeks expres- 
 sion in its own way. That is the reason why trans- 
 lations, no matter how good, are always unsatisfac- 
 tory. The aroma of a poem is bound up with its 
 phraseology. And an artist must contribute first of 
 all to his own nation and only indirectly to humanity. 
 But the whole of mankind will be enriched, because 
 the expression of a healthy national life must eventu- 
 ally inspire all men. 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 THE NEED FOR INTERNATIONALISM 
 
 The dreams about internationalism.— During his- 
 toric ages many of the world's great poets and phil- 
 osophers have had visions of a universal and per- 
 manent bond between the nations. The prophet 
 Micah told of the time when the peoples of the earth 
 "shall beat their swords into ploughshares and their 
 spears into pruninghooks ; nation shall not lift up a 
 sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any 
 more." Dante had his Monorchia of peace, Podiedebrad 
 his New Europe, Henry of Navarre his Great Design, 
 William Penn his United States of Europe, and Emanuel 
 Kant his Perpetual Peace, with its allied state of nations 
 and the federation of the world. Always such plans and 
 dreams, which have multiplied rapidly during the 
 last century, have proved futile. The world was not 
 ready, because people could not think in international 
 terms. 
 
 These proposals were in many cases accepted by 
 the rulers of the peoples, and many have been the 
 attempts to form some sort of federation between 
 nations. The extensions of social and political con- 
 sciousness had for their object co-operation in various 
 forms, but their ultimate goal was national stability, 
 for the state and nation were identical in those early 
 days. Fear was. consequently, the chief motive for 
 forming these leagues. Any statecraft which under- 
 takes to readjust international relations without 
 removing the causes of international fear, will be only 
 
 233 
 
234 CHAPTER XII 
 
 diplomatic quackery. As long as nations fear each 
 other they will arm against each other, and no treaty 
 can prevent it. And when thought of war and prep- 
 aration for war become habitual, war becomes inevi- 
 table, because the combination of circumstances which 
 seems to give one nation or group of nations a de- 
 cided advantage will be seized for a quick master 
 stroke, always, of course, in self-defense; and then 
 there comes a conflagration, in which treaties and 
 moral obligations and civilization turn to ashes. 
 
 Fear drove the twelve tribes of Israel into a national 
 organization under Jehovah as their protector. The 
 same motive operated in the Attic, Achaean, and other 
 leagues of antiquity. Among our own Indians, the 
 best-known federation was that of the Iroquois 
 League, which embraced five and later six nations. 
 
 Internationalism in the past. — ^With the Roman 
 Empire a much greater expansion was given to inter- 
 nationalism. There was a tendency among the 
 Romans to respect nationalism, and to extend cer- 
 tain rights by law to subject races. True, they had 
 not as many privileges and as complete protection 
 as Roman citizens. Nevertheless, the law of nations 
 (jus gentium) guaranteed certain rights to them, and 
 any individual might, moreover, enter into full Roman 
 citizenship. As the Roman Empire increased in extent 
 and in the multiplicity of races coming under its sway, 
 the law increased in inherent justice, and the party 
 treated unjustly by the local authorities always had 
 the opportunity to appeal to the Caesar. This had 
 the tendency to make the local courts careful in the 
 application of the law. 
 
 During the Middle Ages the Roman Empire and 
 
THE NEED FOR INTERNATIONALISM 235 
 
 its laws still served as a model for international deal- 
 ings, especially the principles laid down in the code 
 of Justinian. Europe was, however, too much shat- 
 tered by the successive invasions of the barbarians to 
 have any political cohesion. Thus the Church of 
 Rome became the only effective authority because it 
 was the only international institution at that time. 
 This idea was expressed in the Holy Roman Empire 
 whose rulers were crowned by the pope; and from 
 the coronation of Charlemagne in 800 to the treaty 
 of Westphalia in 1648, this loosely connected league 
 dominated European politics. 
 
 The various treaties of Westphalia established one 
 important principle — that of religious freedom, or 
 rather toleration, since the two contending parties, 
 Roman Catholic and Protestant, had found their 
 forces balanced during the Thirty Years' War. The 
 chief provision was that "all and each of the con- 
 tracting parties shall be held to defend and main- 
 tain all and each of the dispositions of this peace, 
 against whomsoever it may be, without distinction 
 of religion." A large stumblingblock was thus re- 
 moved from international co-operation, and th'* ohrase 
 was often repeated in later treaties. 
 
 The Empire of Napoleon was similarly a leagut of 
 kingdoms and principalities, but directed by one man, 
 and quickly disappeared when he was removed to 
 St. Helena. The Holy Alliance of 1815 was based 
 on the treaty of Vienna, and comprised all the im- 
 portant states of Europe at one time or another. It 
 was a league of rulers, not a federation of nations, 
 and the dishonesty of the monarchs soon brought 
 about its collapse. 
 
236 CHAPTER XII 
 
 Federations and democracy. — True federations are 
 found only among free or democratic peoples. The 
 Swiss Confederation is the oldest of these, dating 
 back to 1291 ; the United States is the most powerful, 
 and the British Empire the most universal. Mexico, 
 Brazil, and Argentina are likewise federal unions of 
 states, but more in theory than in fact. 
 
 Reasons for failure of internationalism. — The rea- 
 sons for the failure of the international leagues are 
 many, and are partly moral and partly civilizational. 
 While brief separate treatment is given to each, their 
 combined influence was cumulative, and was only 
 gradually removed among the most advanced nations. 
 
 First of all was the fact that in the past the lack 
 of transportation and communication shut up every 
 people in its own territory. It knew not what trans- 
 pired a few hundred miles away, and was unable to 
 extend help and sympathy even if the disposition to 
 render them had existed. Needless to say, this diffi- 
 culty has now been removed. A hundred years ago 
 it was a nine days' sail from New York City to 
 Albany; George Washington had been buried two 
 weeks before the news of his death reached Boston. 
 This news would now be transmitted in a few min- 
 utes, and the trip from the metropolis to the capital 
 of New York State is made in four hours by train 
 and less than two by aeroplane. The important 
 events of every corner of the globe are reported in 
 the daily papers. The modern man simply cannot 
 help getting information. 
 
 Second was the race problem and its religious 
 implications. They used to offer insuperable difficul- 
 ties to political co-operation. Both racial antagonism 
 
THE NEED FOR INTERNATIONALISM 237 
 
 and religious intolerance are disappearing rapidly, 
 because we have come to recognize that they are 
 not fundamental, but due to environment and modes 
 of living, and are bound to diminish as civilzation 
 spreads. The gifts of the races as much as those of 
 the nations will combine to supplement each other 
 in making a more perfect civilization. The develop- 
 ment of the human race has gone through the stages 
 of differentiation and co-ordination, and is now pass- 
 ing into that of integration. Religion has had a simi- 
 lar development from persecution to tolerance, and 
 is now approaching recognition. There is more sym- 
 pathy between black man and white man to-day than 
 there was a hundred years ago between Englishman 
 and Norwegian, and more hearty recognition between 
 Jew and Christian than there was between Puritan 
 and Quaker. The Swiss Federation proves that three 
 peoples, different in race and religion, and not by any 
 means equally numerous, but with the language of 
 each encouraged, may be united in each state and 
 in a larger political unity. Our own colonies prove 
 likewise that initial differences of race and religion 
 may be overcome, if higher purposes and ideal; 
 prevail. 
 
 Third are the cultural differences of laws and insti- 
 tutions. These have played a large role in keeping 
 nations apart. Each people believed itself to have the 
 best of everything, because it knew nothing of what 
 other peoples had. Acquaintance revealed many 
 similarities, because all social institutions have orig- 
 inated in the same human needs and must serve 
 eventually the same purpose. As all nations are 
 gradually being drawn into the circle of civilization, 
 
238 CHAPTER XII 
 
 and modern industrialism spreads over the globe, the 
 needs and the wants of all men converge toward the 
 same point. Japan is a good illustiation. She wants 
 not only occidental education and machinery, but 
 clothing, literature, philosophy, science and religion. 
 With federation, certain differences disappear; others 
 will remain and ought to remain for the good of all. 
 Assimilation should never become complete, because 
 that would prevent the peoples from looking at things 
 from slightly different angles, which would stop 
 progress. The highest good of all can be attained 
 only by co-operation along the same general lines, but 
 without complete fusion and amalgamation. 
 
 Fourth, the hesitance. if not outright unwillingness, 
 of nations to surrender any portion of their sover- 
 eignty, has been probably the most serious obstacle 
 to federation. Publicists have talked for many gen- 
 erations of "soverign states" in a matter-of-fact way. 
 Such states have existed, however, only in ancient 
 times when the wants of a people were few, and 
 economic independence was joined to political self- 
 reliance. Complete independence has become a fic- 
 tion in modern times. When a man's bread is in the 
 keeping of another, it is impossible for him to be his 
 own master. Just in proportion as states become 
 economically interdependent, is their sovereignty lim- 
 ited. The question of sovereignty as related to the 
 problem of internationalism is no longer one of fact, 
 but of theory ; and it would be better to fit the theory 
 to the fact, because the fact cannot be changed unless 
 we are ready to relapse into the civilizational stage 
 of tribal nations. The World War has taught man- 
 kind a lesson in this respect, which half a century 
 
THE NEED FOR INTERNATIONALISM 239 
 
 of education would have failed to teach. The Ameri- 
 can colonies made a bold venture in the New World 
 when they tried the political experiment of a federal 
 union, notwithstanding the great differences in their 
 economic and cultural interests. It has proved the 
 greatest success in history. Is it not reasonable to 
 expect that a world federation would in time become 
 even a greater success? 
 
 Fifth, there was no way of dealing with a recalci- 
 trant nation. As long as a nation was economically 
 independent because it could supply its own few 
 wants, it could fight until the point of extermination 
 or enslavement was reached. It is different now. An 
 agricultural people needs machinery, an industrial 
 nation food. If either should be declared "non-inter- 
 communicable" by a league of nations, the result 
 would be quick surrender. The- World War has fur- 
 nished proofs of this, although only a few nations 
 were leagued against another group of peoples. 
 
 Sixth, the governments of the past were mon- 
 archical, and the peoples were only so much prop- 
 erty. This idea is well illustrated in the saying of 
 Louis XIV, who asserted, "I am the State." It is 
 equally well proved by the frequent handing over 
 of peoples to a foreign ruler on the basis of royal 
 marriages. The maritally fertile and successful Haps- 
 burgs had brought so many peoples under their sway 
 during the sixteenth century that the saying arose: 
 "Other nations may have_to wage war to increase 
 their possessions; but thou, Happy Austria, marry!" 
 There never was, and there could not be, a federa- 
 tion of nations, because the people had nothing to 
 say about the matter. Only within very recent times 
 
240 CHAPTER XII 
 
 have democracies on a large scale arisen ; and they are 
 anxious for a world federation because they are aware 
 of the fact that the people must pay the bills of war. 
 The total economic losses of the World War will 
 be approximately $250,000,000,000 or $300,000,000,000. 
 It is not likely, though, that sane peoples will have 
 any desire to face a similar or worse situation for 
 the glory of dynasties, or even for wearing Iron 
 Crosses. This does not take into account the broken 
 homes, dispersed families, and the unspeakable hor- 
 rors of the modern battlefields. The blood of an im- 
 perial prince is worth no more to-day than that of 
 a common laborer, and the masses will refuse to 
 spill theirs by the hogshead to avenge the, perhaps 
 well deserved, murder of an archduke. 
 
 Seventh, the leagues of the past failed to aid the 
 people. The Roman league of nations — if such it 
 was — laid heavy burdens on the subject peoples. The 
 Roman citizen waxed rich or lived without work, 
 thanks to the tribute from the outlying portions of 
 the Empire. Later, the dynasties profited from suc- 
 cessful wars, but the burdens of the people were 
 seldom relieved. The Holy Alliance which claimed 
 to treat all human beings as brethren, soon became 
 the vehicle of the most flagrant injustice and sinister 
 reaction. As early as 1820 its members bound them- 
 selves to choke out all popular aspirations for liberty 
 as worse than revolt and crime. It is small wonder 
 that the Alliance soon came to be known as "unholy," 
 and that the people regretted having put their trust 
 in princes. All through the nineteenth century revo- 
 lutions in every country of Europe have demonstrated 
 the desire of the people to be rid of their faithless 
 
THE NEED FOR INTERNATIONALISM 241 
 
 kings and aristocrats. But only lately have they 
 succeeded. 
 
 Looking at leagues of the past from every angle, 
 the wonder is not that they failed, but that they lasted 
 as long as they did. They deserved to fail, because 
 they were based on narrowness, selfishness, and injus- 
 tice. They were, nevertheless, the forerunners of bet- 
 ter things. 
 
 Internationalism of labor. — It is not surprising that 
 the class consciousness of the dynasties produced, as 
 soon as an opportunity was furnished through educa- 
 tion, a more intense class consciousness on the part 
 of workingmen. It was inevitable that this movement 
 should appeal primarily to a certain type of theorists 
 — men who were not workingmen themselves but who 
 endeavored to get control of the machinery of the 
 government in order to further their own ends and the 
 alleged ends of the proletariat. A long process of 
 education was necessary to interest the masses. The 
 beginnings of this movement go back to the publica- 
 tion of the Communist Manifesto in 1848. From that 
 time on various international labor movements have 
 been inaugurated. 
 
 They prospered for a while as long as a dominant 
 personality held the reins. But sooner or later they 
 failed, owing chiefly to dissension among the leaders, 
 who contended either for their own personal su- 
 premacy or for that of their theories. Perhaps the 
 only product of these movements, in addition to much 
 personal bickering, has been an endless array of 
 theories, often so little differentiated from each other 
 that the outsider is bewildered by the hair-splitting. 
 
 Apart from personal reasons, these negative results 
 
242 CHAPTER XH 
 
 were due to the attitude of the leaders, most of whom 
 belonged to the intellectually keen but narrow type 
 of mind; their education was chiefly of the formal 
 kind of abstract reasoning from poorly established 
 premises or from authorities. Facts are rarely con- 
 sidered in all their bearings, and the slow development 
 of the human race toward better things is either 
 denied or misinterpreted. This statement applies 
 whether we look at the Socialists, Anarchists, Com- 
 munists, or the Bolsheviki with their somewhat mixed 
 program. On the whole, these movements have 
 helped the laboring class, whom they were intended to 
 benefit, but little. It may be said that they have 
 indeed retarded a saner view of labor, owing to the 
 various outrages which some of them have either 
 encouraged or at least permitted. 
 
 The internationalism of most of the followers was, 
 as a matter of fact, only skin deep, as became evi- 
 dent during the recent war, when the vast majority 
 of them cheerfully pronounced themselves "nationals" 
 in every one of the belligerent countries. Whether 
 they made a virtue of necessity, is a problem diffi- 
 cult to solve. 
 
 Both national and international labor movements 
 of the trade and industrial union type have con- 
 tributed far more to the benefit of the working classes, 
 because their leaders were workers, kept their feet 
 firmly on the ground, and usually refused to be fas- 
 cinated by the theories of men whose living depends 
 on a constant flow of language either on the platform 
 or in the magazines. 
 
 Wholesome internationalism. — Between the ex- 
 tremes '-* dynastic and proletarian movements there 
 
THE NEED FOR INTERNATIONALISM 243 
 
 nas gradually arisen a more wholesome international- 
 ism which has constantly widened its activities and 
 gained new adherents, because it is based on service 
 to all classes. 
 
 This is based chiefly on science. While the arts 
 are primarily national, science in its pure and applied 
 branches is primarily international, and most of the 
 world-wide endeavors to serve mankind are based on 
 some form of it, or made possible by it. All of these 
 agencies are so well known, that a brief mention of 
 them will sufifice. 
 
 The International Postal Union deserves first men- 
 tion because it opened up a convenient and reasonably 
 cheap avenue for communication, and brought dis- 
 tant peoples into closer mental contact. This move- 
 ment was inaugurated and is maintained by the gov- 
 ernments and forms one of the best illustrations of 
 international governmental co-operation. It shows 
 what can be done with a little good-will. 
 
 Closely connected with the postal service is that 
 of the cable and the telegraph. It is managed by 
 «orporations or by governments, but profits have been 
 kept down for purposes of service, just as in the case 
 of the later wireless. Just how much our social con- 
 sciousness has been extended by the knowledge ac- 
 quired through them, it would be impossible to tell. 
 
 The rapid, extensive, and efficient means of trans- 
 portation made possible by the use of steam power 
 have enabled millions of persons to come into direct 
 contact with those of other nations, and have thus 
 fostered international good-will. Transportation has 
 thus far been managed chiefly by private corporations, 
 although with the sanction of governments and often 
 with their direct or indirect assistance. 
 
244 CHAPTER XII 
 
 All this would have been impossible without inter- 
 national finance. Most of the large corporations have 
 stockholders in every civilized country ; but the shares 
 and bonds have to be disposed of by banks with con- 
 nections in many countries. Incidentally this system 
 has been a great advantage to millions of travelers 
 who simply carry letters of credit with them instead 
 of cash, as formerly. 
 
 These achievements in turn depend on international 
 science. For years scientists of every branch have 
 met in conventions attended by delegates from every 
 quarter of the globe. It is a significant confirmation 
 of the statement made in the preceding chapter con- 
 cerning the national character of art and literature, 
 that no international congresses have been held by 
 their devotees, while those of the scientists abound. 
 Even religion has now been sufficiently stripped of its 
 national character to make possible international 
 meetings, but not art and literature. 
 
 The Red Cross Society is perhaps the best known 
 of all international movements. Organized in Geneva, 
 Switzerland, August 22, 1864, by a few enthusiasits 
 it has steadily grown in scope and numbers, owing 
 to its service to mankind. It was originally "a con- 
 federation of relief societies in different countries, 
 the aim of which is to ameliorate the condition of sick 
 and wounded soldiers in time of war; and its opera- 
 tions extend over nearly the entire civilized world." 
 These words are taken from the first constitution 
 adopted in Geneva. The following sentences are 
 taken from the prospectus of the World Red Cross 
 Societies which are. very properly, going to make 
 Geneva the headquarters for the new movement. 
 
THE NEED FOR INTERNATIONALISM 2Ah 
 
 "The conception involves not merely efforts to re- 
 lieve human suffering, but to prevent it; not alone 
 the suffering of one people, but an attempt to arouse 
 all peoples to a sense of their responsibility for the 
 welfare of their fellow beings throughout the world. 
 In brief, the plan contemplates the formation of what 
 will be, in effect, an association in the interest of all 
 humanity. It is a program, both ideal and practical; 
 ideal, in that its supreme aim is humanity; practical, 
 in that it seeks means and measures to meet the tragic 
 crises which are daily recurrent in the lives of all 
 mankind. 
 
 ■ "Surely, the operation of such a plan would develop 
 a new fraternity and sympathy among the peoples. 
 By so doing, an important contribution will have been 
 made toward the success of the League of Nations, 
 and this present plan should be viewed as a vital fac- 
 tor in the larger undertaking. The League of Nations 
 aims to hold all peoples together in an effort to avoid 
 war and to insure freedom; this particular plan aims 
 at developing a procedure whereby all peoples may 
 co-operate actively in promoting the health and hap- 
 piness of one another." 
 
 This pamphlet is dated March 15, 1919. Many 
 things have passed since 1864. A philanthropist, Mr. 
 Henri Dunant, and a nurse, Florence Nightingale, 
 were the moving spirits at the first convention. Busi- 
 ness men were indifferent and stood aloof. Now one 
 of the leading bankers of the world is at the head of 
 the larger movement. The connection between health 
 and happiness, and between the creation of good-will 
 and of world peace has gradually dawned on the most 
 intelligent and enterprising men. It is plain good 
 
246 CHAPTER XII 
 
 action, not red-haired theory that will promote better 
 relations among men. It is not an assumption, but 
 definite expectation, that the Red Cross will succeed 
 if one may judge from its past record and from the 
 wide interest awakened in all professions and among 
 all nations. The way has been paved for a new 
 political world-order. 
 
 Need for internationalism. — The League of Nations 
 has been made an integral part of the Paris treaty of 
 peace. The underlying principle is not merely the 
 prevention of war, just as that of the Red Cross is 
 not merely the mitigation of suffering; it is positive 
 in each case. It wants to promote better relations 
 by a more complete understanding; it desires to pro- 
 mote the welfare of all by calling attention to the inter- 
 dependence of each. It is simply a recognition that 
 the economic organization of the world has by far 
 outstripped the political. No one conversant with the 
 facts will deny economic inter-dependence. There is 
 not a single civilized nation which can provide all its 
 needs. We may raise our own wheat and corn, but 
 coffee comes from Brazil or Arabia and tea from Cey- 
 lon or China. We may have copper for our electric 
 wires, but the tungsten for the light filament is im- 
 ported from Cornwall, England. We have coal to 
 make gas, but the mineral for the incandescent burner 
 is a product of India. Civilized life depends on many 
 products which are restricted by nature to certain 
 localities or are best grown in circumscribed areas. 
 Again, some peoples have better aptitudes and meth- 
 ods for making certain articles. It is natural that 
 those should furnish such commodities who are best 
 able to do it either by training or by the gift of 
 nature. 
 
THE NEED FOR INTERNATIONALISM 247 
 
 The Paris covenant for a League of Nations has 
 for its aim a voluntary federation of nations to pro- 
 mote justice and to preserve the peace of the world by 
 accepting obligations not to resort to war, but to deal 
 openly and honorably with one another by scrupu- 
 lously maintaining the sanctity of treaties and by 
 establishing close co-operation in matters of common 
 concern. It does not assume to be able to end all 
 >var, just as no government is able to end all crime. 
 
 The League of Nations. Its organization. — The 
 members of the League covenant with each other 
 that they will respect and preserve the political inde- 
 pendence and territorial integrity of each member 
 against external aggression; submit disputes to arbi- 
 tration by a tribunal administering international law, 
 or to mediation by the Council or the Assembly pro- 
 vided for in the treaty, and furnish a statement of 
 the case to the Secretary General of the League; 
 abstain from war against any member until the dis- 
 pute has been submitted to arbitration or mediation, 
 and until three months after the award or recom- 
 mendation, and even then not go to war with a mem- 
 ber of the League that complies with the award of 
 the tribunal or with the unanimous recommendation 
 of the Council of Assembly; carry out in good faith 
 any awards that may be rendered whenever the parties 
 to the dispute voluntarily agree to arbitrate ; boycott 
 any nation that goes to war contrary to the covenants 
 of the League, and support one another in economic 
 measures necessary to make the boycott effective; 
 support one another in resisting any special measure 
 aimed at one of their number by the offending state, 
 and afford passage through their territory to the 
 
248 CHAPTER XII 
 
 forces of the League members operating against the 
 offending nation; exchange information concerning 
 military and naval programs and industries adaptable 
 to warlike purposes, and for stated periods not ex- 
 ceeding ten years, unless relieved of the obligation 
 by the Council, observe limitations of armament when 
 voluntarily adopted by each of them on recommenda- 
 tion of the Council ; secure fair and humane treatment 
 for labor as far as practicable, at home and in all 
 countries in which they trade; secure just treatment, 
 so far as possible, for native inhabitants of terri- 
 tories under their control; entrust the League with 
 supervision over the execution of international agree- 
 ments providing for the suppression of the "white 
 slave" traffic and the sale of dangerous drugs, and 
 with the supervision of the trade in arms and ammu- 
 nition in countries where the control of this traffic is 
 necessary in the common interest; maintain freedom 
 of transit and equitable treatment for the commerce 
 of members; co-operate in measures for the preven- 
 tion and control of disease; encourage and promote 
 organization and work of the Red Cross; establish 
 international bureaus to administer such matters of 
 common interest as may be agreed upon ; abrogate all 
 treaties and obligations among themselves incon- 
 sistent with the Covenant, and enter into no such 
 obligations in the future; register all new treaties 
 which shall not be binding until so registered; pay 
 a due share of the expenses of administering the 
 affairs of the League.^ 
 
 Its executives. — The agencies provided for the 
 carrying out of the purposes are : 1, an Assembly with 
 
 1 The A B C of the Paris Covenant for a League of Nations; published 
 by League to Enforce Peace. 
 
THE NEED FOR INTERNATIONALISM 249 
 
 legislative power with three delegates from each 
 member of the League, but only one vote ; 2, a Coun- 
 cil of nine, or an executive committee, with the powers 
 usually attached to such a body; 3, a Secretary Gen- 
 eral for administrative work; 4, an International 
 Court to decide disputes referred to it and to advise 
 the Assembly or Council in matters referred to it; 
 S, a Mandatory Commission to oversee and advise 
 respecting the administration of colonies and back- 
 ward peoples formerly governed by Germany and 
 Turkey; 6, a Permanent Commission to advise on 
 military and naval questions ; 7, International Bureaus 
 for the regulation of international affairs, e. g., the 
 International Postal Union, and others of similar; 
 import. 
 
 Its principles. — The most important guiding prin- 
 ciples aside from those referring to war, already men- 
 tioned, are those relating to the reduction of arma- 
 ments and do the well-being and development of back- 
 ward peoples. 
 
 The limitations of the covenant deal in general with 
 non-interference in domestic affairs of the members, 
 absence of coercion concerning obligations not volun- 
 tarily undertaken, the maintenance of the Monroe 
 Doctrine, or rather its recognition and extension to 
 all members of the League. 
 
 Charter membership is open to the signatories of 
 the Treaty of Paris on the side of the Allies, to the 
 United States, and a number of other countries in 
 America. Asia, Africa, and Europe. New members 
 may be admited when they give effective guarantees 
 of sincere acceptance of all provisions of the League, 
 
 The prospects. — The work of the Hague Confer- 
 
ZiJ CHAPTER XII 
 
 ence, begun in 1899, has thus come to a fruition with 
 somewhat changed but greatly extended powers. 
 What was begun by an autocratic tsar has been com- 
 pleted by the heads of democratic nations. Whether 
 all the provisions will stand depends largely on the 
 tact, wisdom, and ability of those in charge. This 
 is, however, the first international covenant made by 
 governments controlled by nations instead of by 
 dynasties. It is also the first time that distinct recog- 
 nition is made of the backward peoples as objects 
 for development instead of for exploitation. The 
 Covenant has thus sound moral and sociological prin- 
 ciples back of it, and the nations will profit greatly 
 from its adoption. It represents internationalism of 
 a high order. 
 
CHAPTEE XIII 
 
 THE ANACHRONISM OF WAR 
 
 Attitude toward Nature. — Are we Nature's tools, 
 or is she our tool? Are we her subjects or her 
 masters ? 
 
 In any discussion of the preventabiliy of war, the 
 attitude we take concerning these questions is para- 
 mount. It is useless to argue with a person who 
 takes the view that human history is merely a 
 continuation of evolution, perhaps a sort of super- 
 evolution. He will always argue from nature and 
 claim that this event or the other occurrence was 
 merely a working out of the iron and immutable laws 
 of nature; that whatever happens is only a result of 
 a chain or, rather, of a complex of causes which goes 
 back no man knows how far or how it came to be. 
 Applied to war, this means that all wars were in- 
 evitable, and that they will be unavoidable in the 
 future, notwithstanding our plans and schemes. Life 
 is struggle both in the animal and the human realm, 
 only more ruthless in the latter because man is more 
 greedy and consequently more cruel. The lion slays 
 his prey without thought or malice; there is only a 
 brief struggle, then death and appeased appetite. Not 
 so man. He is more intelligent and diabolical; he 
 has invented not only more effective weapons of de- 
 struction but takes pleasure in the writhings of the 
 tortured victim. If there is a difference between man 
 and animal, it is all in favor of the latter. Each acts 
 according to his nature. And as long as mind is not 
 
 2S1 
 
252 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 admitted to be a cause as well as an urfect, such rea- 
 soning must stand. 
 
 This attitude is unsound, as has been pointed out 
 in previous chapters. Man is master of his fate, 
 or is becoming so increasingly every day. It is true 
 that in earlier times he was but little raised above the 
 brute, and was therefore subject to his instincts just 
 as the animal is to-day. Gradually, however, mind 
 became a factor in evolution, and turned it into prog- 
 ress. This was at first unconscious or genetic, but 
 became conscious or telic in the course of time. At 
 the present many streams of thought are working, 
 and an ever larger number of men have come to 
 believe that they are not mere toys in the hands 
 of nature, but are able to control their fate. In pro- 
 portion as social intelligence increases and is more 
 widely disseminated, we shall be able to manage the 
 forces which have led to war in the past. 
 
 At certain times a tremendous impetus is given to 
 self-scrutiny, and the result is usually a verdict of the 
 avoidability of disastrous events. Such a period is 
 the present. The holocaust in Europe has not filled 
 courageous men with dismay or a sense of helpless- 
 ness. It has filled them with a sense of shame and 
 disgust that such things are still possible, and prep- 
 arations are being made to bring those responsible 
 for the war before the bar of justice. Means have 
 already been taken for a league of nations with 
 definite views of the preventability of war. The in- 
 creasing interdependence of nations has created new 
 international rights and duties; a world legislature 
 has been established to recognize and legalize them, 
 a world-judiciary to interpret and apply them, and a 
 
THE ANACHRONISM OF WAR 253 
 
 world-executive to enforce and vitalize them. The 
 century-old vision of some dreamers has come to pass 
 within a few swift years. Just what change there 
 has been may be illustrated by quoting some state- 
 ments made at the meetings of the American Socio- 
 logical Society (December 28-31, 1915), where war 
 and militarism formed the special topic of discussion. 
 Professor E. A. Ross stated that: 
 
 "A cool, relentless analysis of the situation dis- 
 closes little ground for hopeful anticipation. On the 
 contrary, the prospect is one of the blackest that 
 humanity has ever faced. A spread over the world of 
 the policy of competitive armaments; an ever larger 
 share of production shunted into the bottomless pit 
 of preparedness; a more general sacrifice of the flow- 
 ering years of male life to military training ; a gradual 
 starvation of such state services as education, re- 
 search, public recreation, and social amelioration — all 
 this, punctuated from time to time by colossal wars 
 resulting in the slaughter of millions and the laying 
 waste of populous and flourishing areas of the globe."^ 
 
 Only tentatively did he mention the possibility of 
 a league of peace; it is a fact to-day. 
 
 Mr. Brooks Adams indulged in the following pes- 
 simism : 
 
 "If this appreciation of the economic and military 
 situation be sound. Americans, instead of debating 
 platitudes of peace, might possibly with advantage 
 turn their attention to considering what social and 
 political changes a hard-fought war for the jugular 
 of modern civilization might portend. It is clear that 
 we are at once the richest, the most helpless, the least 
 
 1 Publications of the American Sociological Society, vol. x, p. 10. 
 
254 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 capable of unified thought, and at the same time the 
 most careless, reckless, impatient, and limited of all 
 the great Western nations of modern times, or per- 
 haps of any nation at any time. And we are in the 
 worse position for effort because we are perfectly self- 
 complacent and incapable of comprehending, as a 
 community, either a general military or economic 
 proposition." ^ 
 
 Within eighteen months, beginning with April 6. 
 1917, we trained and mobilized 4,000,000 men; shipped 
 2,000,000 to different parts of Europe, and won glory 
 in every battle we fought. In addition, we increased 
 our production of food and war material to supply 
 our allies, and turned the tide of war. 
 
 Three years ago few men in America or elsewhere 
 believed that democracy would prevail in monarchical 
 countries; to-day the Tsar is dead, the Kaiser is a 
 fugitive, and several hundred princes and princesses 
 of various degrees of "blue-bloodedness" are in exile. 
 
 »Two bases for explaining war. — On the basis of the 
 two attitudes of mind mentioned above the causes 
 of war have been explained in different ways. 
 Roughly speaking, one attitude is deterministic, the 
 other voluntaristic ; one believes in the necessity of 
 war, the other in its preventability. 
 
 The deterministic explanation. — The determinists 
 and strict evolutionists claim that war is necessary 
 as a means of progress. Man is not and can never 
 be a free agent. He is bound by the development of 
 matter, and his mind is more or less incidental. The 
 stronger must slay the weaker, or be drawn into 
 a network of causation which will pull him down 
 
 1 lb. p, 121. 
 
THE ANACHRONISM OP WAR 255 
 
 to the level of the latter, where he will be exter- 
 minated by a more ruthless foe. In neither case is 
 there praise or glory, but simply the working out of 
 nature's impersonal ends, which have to do only with 
 species and not specimens. "A physician^ has tried 
 to explain the World War as a biological conflict 
 between an older, less vigorous protoplasm, and a 
 younger, more vigorous one seeking its "place in the 
 sun." That was before the decision had come about, 
 and the assumption was that the German protoplasm 
 would win. Unfortunately for the theory, the older 
 English and French stock of cells was able to gain, 
 by an act of deliberate volition, the help of the still 
 younger American stock, and the Central Powers were 
 defeated. Wars on a large scale are not explained 
 by a simple reference to protoplasm. Psychic and 
 social phenomena, such as wars, are much more com- 
 plex in their nature. Man is, indeed, an organism 
 charged with energy by nature; but he is not pushed 
 blindly, like the comet by external, or like the animal 
 by internal, forces; he has the ability to see in which 
 direction he goes, and must pay the penalty if he 
 deliberately closes his eyes. 
 
 Pressure of population. — Another aspect of this 
 argument is the pressure of population. As the 
 means of subsistence press on the increasing popula- 
 tion, something is bound to happen — invasion of other 
 peoples' territory, or starvation. All the wars of the 
 past have been explained that way, perhaps rightly; 
 but that does not mean that wars of the present must 
 be referred to that cause. There is, after all, a third 
 possibility — better utilization of the available land 
 
 1 Crile, George W., Mechanistic View of War and Peace, IMS. 
 
256 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 with its resources both on the surface and under- 
 neath. By intensive, scientific farming, the yield of 
 wheat in Germany increased 70 per cent during the 
 nineteenth century, while the population increased 
 127 per cent. But the German of 1900 was better fed 
 and lived in every way more comfortably than his 
 grandfather in 1800. The deficiency was supplied 
 from elsewhere. While Germany imported 1,850,000 
 metric tons of grain from 1880-84 annually, she im- 
 ported nearly 5,500,000 metric tons of it in 1905. That 
 Germany was getting along well with a larger popu- 
 lation is shown by tlie fact that her emigration to 
 the United States declined from its high water mark 
 during 1881-90 with 1,452,970 arrivals, to 341,498 dur- 
 ing the decade 1901-10. Her emigration to other 
 countries did not increase, either; but her immigra- 
 tion did. Germany received from all sources only a 
 few thousand immigrants in 1890; in 1910 there were 
 13,145; there were, in addition, over 20,000 temporary 
 immigrants working from Spring to Fall. 
 
 Our own country furnishes an instructive illustra- 
 tion of the stress of population. The estimates for 
 the number of Indians inhabiting continental United 
 States before the arrival of the white man vary from 
 600,000 to 1,000,000. Yet the country was overpopu- 
 lated, as the frequent wars among the tribes show; 
 for these were waged chiefly for hunting and fishing 
 grounds. In 1917 this territory supported over 105,- 
 500,000 people ; that is, more than 100, perhaps nearer 
 200, persons to every Indian. We exported, more- 
 over, during that year, 72,497,204 bushels of corn; 
 149,831,427 bushels of wheat; 11,942,788 barrels oi 
 flour; 197,177,101 pounds of fresh meat; 266,656,581 
 
THE ANACHRONISM OF WAR 257 
 
 pounds of ham, and large quantities of other food 
 supplies. In 1918 these figures were much larger: 
 105,881,233 bushels of corn; 80,102,452 bushels of 
 wheat; 21,880,151 barrels of flour; 270,670,914 pounds 
 of fresh meat, and 419,571,869 pounds of ham. In 
 one month, April, 1919, the food supplies furnished 
 to European countries alone amounted to 388,041 tons. 
 When we come to the question of the tropics and 
 sub-tropics, there is no need for discouragement for 
 the next few centuries. As long as some of the most 
 fertile countries in the world, like Brazil and large 
 portions of Central Africa, have only eight or ten 
 inhabitants to the square mile, there is vast room 
 for expansion. According to "The Weekly News 
 Letter" of the Department of Agriculture (April 23, 
 1919), there are still 370,000,000 acres of land in the 
 continental United States capable of utilization, about 
 60 per cent as much as is now improved. About 
 200,000,000 acres are potentially arable and cut-over 
 land, 60,000,000 acres of swamps, 30,000,000 poten- 
 tially irrigable land, and 80.000,000 acres of unim- 
 proved land other than woodland. A vast opportu- 
 nity is still before us, even though the best land has 
 passed under the plow. Meanwhile we learn of new 
 sources of food supply. Arctic Alaska is capable of 
 producing seven times as much reindeer meat as the 
 present production of mutton in Canada. It is sup- 
 posed that those otherwise barren regions can sup- 
 port 7,000,000 reindeer, equal in the production of 
 meat to 14,000,000 sheep, or to about one-fourth the 
 number of sheep in the United States. Wheat is 
 already grown along the Yukon River. Meanwhile 
 Mr. Brusso states in the "Scientific American Sup- 
 
258 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 plement," (May 10, 1919) that the Desert of Sahara is 
 not what writers of fiction have claimed it to be. On 
 the fringes and in many oases of the 2,394,200 square 
 kilometers comprising the Sahara, there is already a 
 permanent population of 450,000 inhabitants. There 
 are many wild and domestic plants and animals to be 
 found. He says: 
 
 "This varied flora and fauna imply that even in 
 the central Sahara there are permanent populations 
 destined to become denser with an increase of safety, 
 of steady labor, of roads, of communication, and facili- 
 ties of transport. One must admit that these data 
 are very encouraging. It should be added, moreover, 
 that if some of the explorers who have made bold 
 excursions into various countries of the Sahara re- 
 gions have met death by assassination, like Flatters 
 and Lieutenant Pallat ; on the other hand, not a single 
 one has been heard of who has died of thirst, famine 
 or maladies due to the climate, or who have been 
 swallowed up by sand." 
 
 The climate of the tropics and sub-tropics has been 
 the great deterrent to a more dense population, due 
 chiefly to the prevalence of hookworm, malaria and 
 dysentary. Owing to many advances in medical 
 science, this difficulty is being removed, and the 
 tropics are destined to support not only very much 
 larger native populations, but to furnish vast amounts 
 of food for those in higher latitudes.^ What new 
 sources of food supply may be discovered in the next 
 few centuries we do not know at present. Investiga- 
 tion and experimentation are only in the initial stages. 
 The horse, a very clean animal, and the European 
 
 1 For a full discussion of this topic see the author's Health and Social 
 Proirress, chapter^ 11, 12, and 14, 
 
THE ANACHRONISM OF WAR 2S9 
 
 buffalo, are already utilized ; and whale meat has been 
 found nutritious and digestible. Meanwhile, dietetics 
 may teach us how to eat properly. 
 
 Biological causes have produced war only among 
 peoples lacking intelligence, and economic reasons 
 only among those lacking enterprise. As long as 
 men quietly accepted what "fate, misfortune, and the 
 gods chose to send them," there was nothing to be 
 expected but resignation with starvation, or invasion 
 with slaughter and extermination. 
 
 The philosophy of the Germans has been given 
 as another cause of the World War. Nietzsche has 
 loomed up large in this connection. Almost every 
 crime has been laid at the door of his philosophy. 
 Even innocent and God-fearing Kant has been charged 
 with responsibility for the recent European calamity, 
 because he dealt v/ith abstract conceptions without 
 giving them any content.^ Apparently philosophy is 
 as little able to endure a vacuum as nature, and trouble 
 is bound to come in each case. That is surely reduc- 
 ing the search for causation to the absurd. The pro- 
 cedure is like that of the minister who gets a tolerably 
 good sermon from a newspaper, and hunts all over 
 the Bible for a suitable text on which, as a peg, to 
 hang it with proper decorum. v 
 
 Voluntaristic explanation of war. — The causes of 
 the recent war are social, implying tradition, politics, 
 education, and some economic phases. Ever since 
 the Napoleonic wars Prussia has been steeped in war- 
 like traditions. The names of Gneisenau, York, and 
 Bluecher among the generals, and those of Arndt 
 
 1 See John Dewey, German Philosophy and Politics, pp. 52-56, and pp. 
 121 f.; Holt and Company, 1915. 
 
260 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 and Koerner among the patriotic singers, have been 
 on the lips of every German boy since 1815. In 1864 
 the expedition into Denmark added new laurels to 
 the Prussian arms. The short but decisive victory 
 over Austria and the Southern German states in 1866 
 made Prussia not only supreme in Germany, but 
 enabled her to bring France to her knees in 1870-71. 
 The HohenzoUerns have always been ambitious, and 
 everything was done to impregnate their subjects with 
 their desire for glory and power. 
 
 c Prussia politically supreme. — ^When the German 
 Empire was officially established on January 18, 1871, 
 the endeavor of the Prussian dynasty had for its 
 politics two aims — to be practically sure of supremacy 
 in the federation of German states, and to keep 
 political power in Prussia in the trusted hands of 
 the aristocracy and the wealthy. This double pur- 
 pose was attained by giving Prussia a sufficiently 
 large number of members in the Bundesrath to get 
 a majority, with the aid of one or two of the other 
 federal states — assistance which could always be de- 
 pended on because of the prestige of the Hohenzollern 
 dynasty and the power it wielded both directly and 
 indirectly. The ruling class was kept in power by 
 the provision of the Constitution that voting was to 
 be fixed according to payment of taxes, so that in 
 1900, for instance, 22,048 voters of the first (1,227) 
 and second (20,821) classes elected two-thirds of the 
 municipal council in Berlin, while 310,471 voters 
 elected the other third. In 1903 there were 1,857 
 electors in the first class, 29,711 in the second. These 
 31,568 voters elected two-thirds or 96 out of the 
 total number of 144 members of the city council, 
 
THE ANACHRONISM OF WAR 261 
 
 while. 349,105 voters elected the remaining third, or 
 48 members. In some cases the poor man had a 
 still smaller chance. In Essen, where the great Krupp 
 works are located, there were in 1900 only three 
 electors in the first class and 401 in the second. The 
 three men elected one-third, the 401 another third, 
 and a little over 19,000 voters the last third.^ This 
 three-class system held for the elections to the Prus- 
 sian diet. While suffrage for the imperial diet was 
 by universal manhood suffrage, that body was prac- 
 tically reduced to the level of a debating society. 
 
 This strangle-hold of the Prussian government was 
 strengthened by the various forms of imperial insur- 
 ance legislation — for sickness, old age, and accident — 
 because it made every worker dependent on the gov- 
 ernment, and, naturally enough, made compliance 
 with and subservience to it inevitable. The German 
 workingman practically bartered away his birthright 
 for a mess of pottage. 
 
 Prestige of the soldier. — This actual power of the 
 government was extended into a psychic dominance 
 over all classes through a persistent propaganda and 
 through education. Somehow the people's soul had 
 been made captive by various means. There was the 
 distinct difference between the soldier and the civilian. 
 The moment a man put on the military uniform he 
 became a privileged person. When leaving his bar- 
 racks he must always wear his side-arm, so as to 
 resent any possible reflection effectively. On the rail- 
 road, in the theatre, and elsewhere he paid less than 
 his civilian brother. 
 
 1 See Frederick Howe, the Modern City and Its Problems, pp. 127 
 and 128. 
 
262 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 Any commissioned officer was considered hoffaehig, 
 or privileged to appear at court, while the greatest 
 scientist might not be. The tone of an army is made 
 by its superior officers. But the vast majority of the 
 generals, between 75 and 90 per cent came from the 
 nobility or were' ennobled so as to identify their 
 interests with those of the aristocracy. The lower 
 officers might be commoners, but they naturally "took 
 their lead" from the generals. In the so-called "crack 
 regiments" even the lowest officers were of aristo- 
 cratic birth, and they were always stationed in the 
 capitals near the court. All promotions and pardons 
 depended eventually on the king or emperor, and the 
 oath of allegiance was made to him as a person both 
 by officers and privates. Owing to universal military 
 service, the atmosphere of service and loyalty to roy- 
 alty was introduced into every family; and just as 
 during the Middle Ages every self-respecting family 
 had the ambition to have a son in the priesthood, so 
 every family in Germany that made claims to social 
 standing either wanted a son directly in the corps of 
 officers, or at least among the reserve officers. The 
 establishment of the corps of reserve officers was 
 nothing short of a stroke of genius, because it thor- 
 oughly identified the professional classes and other 
 educated people with the army. According to the 
 provisions of the military law, every man with a 
 prescribed amount of education and sufficient money 
 was permitted to elect the branch of arms, regiment, 
 and garrison in which to serve one year, and to be 
 enrolled as a reserve officer after passing a not-too- 
 severe examination. Many students chose regiments 
 located in university towns, registered in the uni- 
 
THE ANACHRONISM OF WAR 263 
 
 versity, attended a few lectures, did their military 
 duty, and had the year counted toward the required 
 number of semesters, and had the satisfaction of be- 
 longing to the select body of army officers. Well- 
 to-do business men could do the same thing, if they 
 met the educational test. Every family was thus 
 drawn into the magic circle of the army; the poor 
 by serving two or three years in the line and later in 
 the reserve; the rich and educated by gaining the 
 social distinction of being officers. The stamp of the 
 army was put on every able-bodied man, and stayed 
 there. One might nbtice it even in America. A thin, 
 emaciated, almost saintly looking scholar might come 
 over here to identify a portrait of William Shakes- 
 peare, or on some other scientific errand ; but, on 
 being introduced, he would click his heels and assume 
 military posture. The present writer has gone 
 through the experience of having one of his former 
 schoolmates threaten violence on making a few 
 in iverent remarks about the "supreme war lord." 
 
 Civil service and business. — The conditions in the 
 civil service were not much dflferent. To begin with, 
 nearly every official "had an army record either as 
 reserve officer or in the ranks, regular provision being 
 made by law to provide positions for non-commis- 
 sioned officers in the civil service after a certain num- 
 ber of years of service, suitable to the attainments 
 of each man. Appointment to higher positions de- 
 pended eventually on the king, and the highest posi- 
 tions were entirely at the disposal of the emperor. 
 Pardons, promotions, and amnesties were usually 
 announced on the monarch's birthday, thus identify- 
 ing the good fortune of both military and civil offi- 
 
264 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 cers, and even of ofifenders against law with the per- 
 son of the prince. There were, moreover, all kinds of 
 dignities, e. g., privy counsellor, real privy counsellor, 
 etc. 
 
 The business men were drawn into the circle of 
 royal interest in a different way. There were pur- 
 veyors of everything from meat to rough-on-rats, 
 from clothes to cigarettes, for every prince and 
 princess. This required fawning on the part of the 
 shopkeeper. For business men of larger calibre and 
 fortunes there were the coveted titles of commercial 
 counsellor, both titular and real. In addition there 
 were the innumerable decorations, suitable for every 
 position in life, and distributed with a fairly lavish 
 hand. Everybody with social and business aspira- 
 tions thus came to look to the dynasty as a sort of 
 divine providence. A man had to be devotedly loyal, 
 or face social ostracism and, maybe, failure in 
 business. 
 
 , This propaganda reached its climax in education. 
 Everyone of the larger federal states had its own 
 "Kultus Minister" or Secretary of Religion and Edu- 
 cation. Needless to say, loyalty to the ruling house 
 was the first requisite for all appointments. Social- 
 ists were semi-legally debarred from certain chairs 
 in universities, and were not favored for any. A well- 
 known teacher of philosophy in one of the best-known 
 of the smaller universities tried to arrange a debate 
 on socialism among his students, with the purpose of 
 proving its unscientific character. Not one of them 
 would take the part of a Socialist, lest he come under 
 the odium of favoring that party; so the professor, 
 whose devotion for "unseren gnaedigen Kaiser" was 
 
THE ANACHRONISM OF WAR ^65 
 
 unimpeachable, as he had received several decora- 
 tions, was compelled to take the role himself. 
 
 The school-books were carefully scrutinized as to 
 this point, and no disloyal utterance was permitted. 
 Theologians might attack the majesty and holiness 
 of Jehovah, but not that of the ruling prince. News- 
 papers might attack every moral code, but could 
 not question the propriety of a royal edict. The school 
 libraries contained carefully selected and graded 
 books in biographical form, lauding the virtues of 
 the dynasty and extolling the ruler as a boy, young 
 man, husband, warrior, law-giver, and general bene- 
 factor. Nothing was omitted that could in one way 
 or another enhance the glory of the royal house. Ex- 
 cursions were arranged to visit battlefields and national 
 shrines; and prize pupils were sent to Berlin 
 to have a look at the half mile of Prussian heroes 
 along the Alley of Victory near the Brandenburger 
 Gate. Defeats of the army were omitted in school 
 books or mentioned incidentally so as to bring out 
 the greater glory of eventually but signally defeat- 
 ing the enemy. 
 
 The church was, of course, under close supervision, 
 and inculcated obedience and loyalty as a religious 
 and moral duty. Promotion of clergymen of all state 
 churches always depended on their service to "crown 
 and altar," and the Hohenzollern and Hapsburg as 
 well as the Romanoff dynasties used this weapon 
 freely. Small wonder, then, that the soul of the 
 Germans became a captive to the lure of royalty and 
 was willing to do its bidding. 
 
 German commerce. — It was stated above that the 
 tides of immigration and emigration showed clearly 
 
266 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 that the pressure of population was not, at least, the 
 direct cause of the present war. Yet there were cer- 
 tain economic factors which were contributory to 
 producing it. They were not, however, in the line 
 of indigence. German national wealth increased very 
 considerably from 1880 to 1910, owing to enterprise 
 and determination. The marvelous industrial develop- 
 ment of Germany from an agricultural nation in 1870 
 to one of the foremost manufacturers and ocean car- 
 riers is well known. It may be illustrated by the 
 extension of her foreign commerce. From 1880 to 
 1910 the population of the United Kingdom increased 
 25 per cent and foreign trade 40 per cent; for the 
 United States the figures stand 85 per cent and 50 per 
 cent, respectively; for Germany, 35 per cent and 250 
 per cent, respectively. Germany leaped during these 
 thirty years from a very low position to a rank sec- 
 ond only to that of the United Kingdom. Poverty 
 was certainly not driving Germany into the war; she 
 was growing richer every day, and all the harbors 
 of the British Empire were open to her on equal 
 terms with British merchants, not to mention those 
 of other countries. Where, then, lay the trouble? 
 
 Germany's mind prepared. — The whole mental atti- 
 tude must be taken into consideration. There was 
 the tradition of a glorious military past on the part 
 of Prussia, growing almost every decade by acces- 
 sions of new territory through conquest. 
 
 There were the recent victories over Austria and 
 France. There was the phenomenal extension of 
 prestige all over the world, based partly on skillful 
 propaganda — it was not clumsy, as Americans are 
 apt to insist now, since they knew nothing about it 
 
THE ANACHRONISM OF WAR 267 
 
 for over thirty years, although it was going on all 
 the time — partly on actual achievements along many 
 lines, and partly on the large and well-equipped army 
 and navy. There was, finally, a hearty and whole- 
 souled devotion of an ambitious people to a capable 
 but unbalanced monarch who had been brought up in 
 the warlike tradition of his House and was anxious 
 to surpass all his ancestors in achievements. What 
 could be greater than to put "Deutschland ueber 
 AUes" not only in Europe but in all the world, or 
 to translate a patriotic song into action? Unbalanced 
 men, if capable, have always been the most dangerous 
 enemies of their kind — witness the Children's Crusade 
 in 1212. The psychological stage was thus set. 
 
 The merchant and manufacturing princes joined 
 hands with the large landowners who were all mem- 
 bers of the aristocracy. What was more natural than 
 to complete both the economic and the political 
 domination of Europe by conquest? The army was 
 ready, the navy was ready, the transportation system 
 was ready, the great financiers could get ready, and 
 the pretext for a "casus belli" had been furnished. 
 Why wait? The reports of the conference on July 5, 
 1914, bear all the earinarks of truth. A short few 
 months of glorious war, :\n6. every party would have 
 what it wanted. The psychological moment had 
 come, and the decision was taken. No one could 
 possibly expect an adverse outcome. 
 
 Democracy and v/ar. — Wars in antiquity have in 
 many cases been caused by movements of people 
 owing to economic and climatical changes, but just 
 as frequently by social conditions which men could 
 have controlled. In modern times, with free migra- 
 
268 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 tion, cheap transportation and easy settlement in other 
 countries, the old conditions have disappeared and 
 only social causes for war have remained, chiefly 
 in monarchical countries. Democracies are by nature 
 anti-militaristic, because they are concerned with the 
 building up of a better manhood, self-respecting and 
 self-reliant, through the improvement of economic and 
 political conditions. This task demands peace. If 
 they still wage war, it is either in self-defense, or 
 because they are socially still unintelligent and do 
 not know how to adjust themselves to changing con- 
 ditions quickly and adequately. A democracy sees 
 little good in war, and bemoans the destruction of 
 life and property. Of the wastefulness of seeking 
 a decision by the sword, the World War has fur- 
 nished plenty of evidence, and this is likely to act 
 as a deterrent in the future. 
 
 War losses. — According to figures published in the 
 New York "Times" (January 19, 1919), the losses of 
 the European belligerents were, in killed and dead 
 from wounds, about 7,300,000; in wounded, about 
 19,515,000. This does not include the losses of Japan 
 or those of the United States. Ours are about 
 300,000 ; dead, from all causes connected with the war, 
 76,000; wounded, of whom about 85 per cent re- 
 turned to duty, nearly 211,000; missing and prisoners 
 not yet accounted for, about 2,400; prisoners released 
 and returned, over 4,500. This includes only the 
 army; the Marine Corps had up to June 25, 1919, a 
 total list of casualties of over 6,000. A few reports 
 are still coming in. About 50,000,000 soldiers all told 
 were engaged in fighting or in activities directly con- 
 tributory to it. The total economic losses will be 
 
THE ANACHRONISM OF WAR 269 
 
 not less than $250,000,000,000 and may reach $300,- 
 000,000,000, since the aggregate national debts of the 
 United States, Great Britain, France, Russia, Italy, 
 Germany, and Austria-Hungary alone have increased 
 from August 1, 1914, to January 1, 1919, by $166,- 
 700,000,000. This does not include the increase in 
 the national debt of Greece, Serbia, Turkey, Bulgaria, 
 Rumania, and Japan; nor the losses sustained by 
 municipalities, villages, hamlets and farms in the 
 destruction of buildings, machinery, and means of 
 transportation. These figures are staggering, but 
 have probably increased by 20 per cent during 1919. 
 What the burden of the future will be may be inferred 
 from the interest which has to be paid. The differ- 
 ence between 1913 and 1920 will be, for the United 
 States, $1,100,000,000 instead of $23,000,000; Great 
 Britain, $2,300,000,000 as against $122,500,000 ; France, 
 $2,000,000,000 as against $257,300,000; Russia, $1,600,- 
 000,000 as against $212,200,000 ; Italy, $600,000,000 as 
 againfet $93,000,000; Germany, $2,500,000,000 as 
 against $200,000,000; Austria-Hungary, $1,500,000,000 
 as against $161,700,000 — a total difference for the 
 seven countries of $11,600,000,000, as against $1,070,- 
 000,000. This interest will have to be raised annu- 
 ally, and will decrease only very gradually, as pay- 
 ments on the capital are made. The increase is due 
 not only to the growth of the debts, but also to the 
 rise in rate of interest from an average of 3.9 per cent 
 to one of 5.5 per cent. Here is an increase for pay- 
 ment of interest alone of 1,000 per cent. For each 
 of these nations the interest charge on indebtedness 
 will exceed or at least equal the total yearly public 
 revenue in 1913, and impose correspondingly heavy 
 responsibilities on the taxpayers. 
 
270 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 Destruction of confidence. — The other aspects of 
 the war can only be hinted at. No one can know 
 how many homes have been broken up, how many 
 widows and orphans have been made, how many per- 
 sons have died from broken heart, starvation, disease, 
 maltreatment, cruelty, and outrage. The confidence 
 in civilization has been destroyed, the moral standards 
 have broken down, and the whole spiritual attitude 
 has been shattered for many years to come. That 
 the war has produced some equivalents in patriotism, 
 self-sacrifice, and a broadening of the mental horizon 
 may be readily admitted ; but the assets gained in this 
 way are very small compared to the liabilities in- 
 curred. Only the determination to abolish war will 
 console us somewhat for the losses, for it is an 
 anachronism and has no place in modern civilization, 
 because it destroys international good-will, which is 
 necessary to progress. 
 
 Peace, too, involves risks. — But is war, then, so 
 bad, and peace so good? According to Mr. F. E. 
 Morris, chief secretary of the National Safety Coun- 
 cil, Chicago, as reported in the New York "Times" 
 June 21, 1919, about 226,000 men, women and children 
 were accidentally killed in the United States during 
 the nineteen months our country was at war, while 
 only 76,000 of our soldiers died as the direct results 
 of the war. The wheels of slaughter seem to work 
 as effectively in times of peace as in war. The sol- 
 diers died for the sake of patriotism and liberty ; those 
 in the mines and factories usually died because of 
 sordid gain on the part of their employers. Which 
 death is more noble? If peace produces greed, sloth, 
 self indulgence, and other vices, would it not be bet- 
 
THE ANACHRONISM OF WAR 271 
 
 ter to have an occasional war, so as to call us to 
 rise to higher things? Yes, if there were no substi- 
 tutes for war. The tasks which humanity faces to-day 
 are so numerous and enormous, that any man has 
 an opportunity to display the utmost courage and 
 ingenuity, self-sacrifice and devotion in behalf of his 
 fellowmen. There are problems in politics to be 
 solved; there are those of science, morals, hygiene, 
 and every other field of human endeavor. The tropics 
 are waiting for millions of brave and resourceful men 
 to explore them, to drain them, to make them habit- 
 able for the new millions of human beings whom 
 this century is going to add to the roll of mankind. 
 An increase, perhaps, not as large as that from 1800 
 to 1900 will undoubtedly take place, and bread will 
 have to be provided for the multitudes. It will have 
 to come chiefly from the lower latitudes. As was 
 indicated above, there is no reason to despair if we 
 go about the matter intelligently. If necessary, the 
 birth rate will have to be reduced, although there is 
 no need to make haste, since intelligent people are 
 already doing that of their own accord. But with 
 the more intelligent utilization of millions of untilled 
 acres for the production of food, there will be enough 
 supplies to go around. This work will tax the powers 
 of millions of men. 
 
 And it will demand risks. It may be easier to 
 attack an enemy than the tropical jungle; more safe 
 to fight in the trenches than to struggle with a 
 political boss. The elevation of our social standards 
 is imperative if good-will is to be promoted : it is not 
 a field where decorations may be expected, but plenty 
 of abuse. These are only a few tasks waiting for 
 
27^ CHAPTER XIII 
 
 solution ; if solved, they will greatly add to the happi- 
 ness and well-being of the human race. It will be 
 constructive, not destructive, work; it demands, con- 
 sequently, more patience and intelligence. 
 
 War must go; it has lived too long. The good 
 it may have done in the past can now be done at 
 less cost and with less suffering. 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 MATERIAL AND CULTURAL CIVILIZATION 
 
 Wealth or culture? — Is society to strive for wealth 
 or for culture? The last few years have brought this 
 question to the attention of the world as never before 
 in the history of mankind. The search for one or 
 the other may have been just as keen as to-day; but 
 the contrast between the two has never come into 
 the consciousness of civilized man as now. The 
 World War has seen some of the highest scientific 
 achievements prostituted to purposes of cruelty and 
 destruction. Some men have seriously asked the 
 question whether a civilization which can plan so 
 deliberately how to do the utmost harm to the minds, 
 bodies, and property of fellowmen, is worth while. 
 Men may have been cruel in early ages, but the 
 weapons of destruction were at least less effective. 
 We can pardon our distant forbears because their 
 moral ideas were less developed than ours, and they 
 acted in conformity with their codes of law. The 
 war has shown that men may live in the modern 
 world intellectually, but be not of it morally. Man 
 has shown himself able to contrive with consummate 
 skill how to subjugate nature, but has followed the 
 law of the jungle in his relations to his neighbor. 
 
 One result of this savagery has been the strength- 
 ening of the demand for more cultural subjects in our 
 colleges, at least on the part of the teachers of classical 
 languages. The blood-thirstiness of the Germans was 
 looked upon as a consequence of the decreased atten- 
 
 273 
 
274 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 tion given in the schools to those subjects. Another 
 result has been the despair of many persons in the 
 power of the Christian religion to save society. Again, 
 the defenders of the "nature-life" have attacked civ- 
 ilization as a whole by calling it a sham and a per- 
 version of originally pure human instincts. These 
 accusations are both exaggerated and reactionary. 
 They show, however, that there is new need for exam- 
 ining the relation of material and cultural progress 
 in order to find out whether they are independent of 
 each other or interdependent. 
 
 To repeat the question: Are we to strive for wealth 
 or for culture? Material progress per se is not desir- 
 able; it would mean merely more things to eat and 
 wear, and more ingenuity in injuring one another. 
 Of this we have ample illustrations in many of our 
 nouveaux riches who spend wastefuUy and become 
 profligates because they legally own much property, 
 but are unable to use it rightly for the enlargement 
 of their personality. They are like spoiled children 
 who are given everything they want, only to be dis- 
 satisfied shortly after and to destroy the experisive 
 toy. Huxley aptly characterized a life of this kind 
 in the words : 
 
 "If physical enjoyment and material achievement 
 is all, then let a kindly comet come, and sweep us 
 off into primitive chaos." Material goods without 
 culture produce a horde of voluptuaries and wolver- 
 enes whose only object is to eat, drink and be merry 
 in a purely animal way. 
 
 Too much devotion to abstract pursuits, on the 
 other hand, is likewise apt to lead man into futilities. 
 The mere cultivation of the intellect in abstractions 
 
MATERIAL AND CULTURAL CIVILIZATION 275 
 
 and speculation is likely, as in the case of the Hindoos, 
 to produce inactivity, phantastic philosophy, and 
 bizarre poetry. It tends to develop the memory and 
 empty subtleties without giving manhood. It is a 
 constant grievance on the part of the Hindoos with 
 occidental training that, although they pass civil 
 examinations with as high grades as Englishmen, they 
 fail in many cases to be appointed to positions. They 
 have the knowledge derived from books and lectures, 
 but lack that manhood which can be acquired only 
 through contact with facts. Many of these dis- 
 gruntled office seekers are at the bottom of the 
 revolutionary movements in India. They are utterly 
 unfit to govern, because they cannot deal with facts 
 as they are springing up constantly in life. 
 
 Each of these attitudes leads eventually to pes- 
 simism. Mere physical enjoyment on the basis of 
 wealth produces satiety; man has blunted all his 
 senses, and even the physical pleasures have lost their 
 edge. Many persons adopt a philosophy of despair, 
 because there is nothing more to live for. The salt 
 has lost its savor. The pursuit of purely intellectual 
 aims eventually produces an attitude of hopelessness 
 along a different line. The problems are insoluble 
 by mere thinking and speculation; the course of rea- 
 soning, no matter how auspiciously begun, leads 
 nowhere. Many a student has commenced reading 
 a book on metaphysics, which promised to solve the 
 riddle of the universe for him, only to find the author 
 asking at the end: "What have we got now? Pos- 
 sibilities, maybe probabilities; but no certainties." 
 
 Knowledge through action. — ^The road to knowl- 
 edge must pass through action. The fact comes 
 
276 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 ordinarily before the reason why. Men walked long 
 before they knew anything about nerves and mus- 
 cles; they used wheels and pulleys before they in- 
 vented mechanics, and sailed ships before naviga- 
 tion became a science. Right thinking must be based 
 on social action, and satisfaction in life must rest on 
 both. The story of Faust illustrates this problem 
 from various angles. 
 
 According to Goethe's drama, Faust is a scholar 
 who has pursued knowledge in the abstract and for 
 its own sake. Philosophy, law, medicine, and theol- 
 ogy have been mastered, but satisfaction has fled. In 
 despair he tries to satisfy his thirst for happiness by 
 plunging into all kinds of sensual indulgence, only to 
 find it turn out bitter. Power at the court of a royal 
 weakling fails to satisfy him, because he sought it 
 by spurious means. He kept the presses busy print- 
 ing money, and created a semblance of wealth. The 
 bubble soon burst, and Faust had to flee. Goethe 
 anticipated Lenine, who has supplied everybody with 
 worthless rubles, and has a fine card system, even 
 though he cannot furnish food. The next stage finds 
 Faust in a mad chase after art, symbolized by Helen 
 of Troy. As he is about to grasp her, she vanishes 
 into thin air — an indication that art cannot be pur- 
 sued for art's sake; it must minister to life if it is 
 to yield satisfaction. Disappointed again, Faust re- 
 turns to the land of the royal weakling whose throne 
 is collapsing owing to the fateful experiment in high 
 finance. He defeats the country's enemies, but refuses 
 any position of power, evidently with the conviction 
 that power based on war is but short-lived. He asks 
 as a fnvor and only reward the deed to a stretch 
 
.MATERIAL AND CULTURAL CIVILIZATION 277 
 
 of desert land along the seashore, where he tames 
 the unruly waves by building dikes and dunes, and 
 wins a large area for civilization by intelligent and 
 useful work. In his endeavor to help others and his 
 persistent efforts to teach the value of work, living 
 among people who are free and happy because indus- 
 trious, he finds the satisfaction which has eluded 
 him in all his other pursuits. 
 
 The story symbolizes the development of mankind. 
 As soon as man emerged from the lowest stages 
 of savagery, he began to exploit his fellowmen by 
 war and slavery, and spent his leisure either in self- 
 indulgence or in speculation. Contact with material 
 things was obnoxious to the thinkers, and the famous 
 contrast between mind and matter in philosophy was 
 introduced, which still lingers with us in the form 
 of contempt for manual labor. In the flight from 
 the world, either in the walls of a monastic cell or in 
 the realms of poetic imagination, the dreamers sought 
 refuge from the hard facts of life. But no satisfac- 
 tion came or could come that way. For life con- 
 sists in struggle against adversities, not in dreams 
 that they have been overcome. The victory in the latter 
 case was easy and complete, but imaginary, and 
 helped man very little in his advance; it is hard and 
 partial in the case of struggle and far from complete, 
 but has helped us to gain some real success. 
 
 Self-indulgence not culture. — Only a few words 
 need to be said about self-indulgence as a road to 
 happiness. The whole history of mankind furnishes 
 ample evidence that disregard of the rights of others 
 has been disastrous both to individuals and classes 
 in society. Temporary success may have been at- 
 
278 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 tained in this way, but man disintegrated eventually, 
 because he was not meeting the demands made upon 
 him as a member of society. He consumed, but did 
 not produce, and the parasite has always paid by 
 degeneration. 
 
 Work, wealth and culture. — The road both to cul- 
 ture and wealth lies through work; that is, persistent 
 application. Only in proportion as we observe ex- 
 actly, reason correctly, observe and reason again, are 
 we able to get a true philosophy of life. But in order 
 to observe and reason, there must be leisure and free- 
 dom from exhaustive toil. This problem has been 
 solved in two ways, through slavery and invention. 
 
 Leisure can exist, even for a few, only where there 
 is a surplus of economic goods. Owing to the lack 
 of intelligence, no man could produce much more by 
 the work of his own hands than was necessary for 
 his support. Hence the only way to get a little sur- 
 plus for a few men was to have at least several slaves 
 work very hard at minimum cost. This was univer- 
 sally done in antiquity, and whatever art, science, 
 or philosophy has come down to us from Greece or 
 Rome is the result of economic exploitation. Slavery 
 meant not only manual labor in those days, but any 
 kind of useful work. The farmers, the merchants, 
 even the musicians were either slaves or unfran- 
 chised foreigners. All things pertaining to the intel- 
 lectual life were not supposed to be appreciated by the 
 worker and the business man. It was their task to 
 supply the means of sustenance for the citizens, who 
 were thus left free to cultivate their minds and create 
 art and literature. To accept remuneration for these 
 services would have appeared debasing to these men ; 
 
MATERIAL AND CULTURAL CIVILIZATION 279 
 
 and one of the charges made against the Sophists was 
 the acceptance of presents from their pupils. What- 
 ever a free man could create was to belong to his 
 fellowmen as a voluntary gift. 
 
 The transition came about through the Hebrews. 
 They had greater respect for manual labor owing to 
 their conception of Jehovah as a worker, and to the 
 disfavor in which slavery was held; hence most He- 
 brews had to work, and every boy was brought up 
 to learn a trade. But the tradition that the products 
 of a higher intelligence were not to be given for a 
 remuneration was prevalent among them, and the 
 expedient was resorted to for having every scholar 
 learn a trade in order to support himself and be able 
 to give his knowledge freely. The apostle Paul 
 worked at his trade as a tentmaker while preaching 
 at Corinth, so as not to be charged with preaching 
 for gain. This tradition continued through the Middle 
 Ages among the monks, who gave instruction in many 
 cases without charge. 
 
 But, whether honored or despised, manual labor 
 was not very productive, and never can be. What- 
 ever is done by hand requires much time. Quantity 
 production is impossible; machinery is necessary for 
 that, and invention alone can supply it. Invention 
 depended, however, on a form of reasoning which com- 
 bined observation with speculation, or induction with 
 deduction. This in turn required that the thinker 
 should not deem it beneath his dignity to produce 
 something useful. 
 
 Work, Christianity, and democracy. — The change 
 in attitude was brought about by two movements — 
 Christianity and democracy. According to Chris- 
 
280 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 tianity all men are brothers. This meant the death- 
 blow to slavery. Democracy claims that all men are 
 equal. This means the abolition of caste, according 
 to which some men have all the leisure and others all 
 the toil. Both movements implied the bestowing of 
 freedom and citizenship with the obligation of work 
 upon all. Naturally enough, each man began to work 
 according to the gift that was in him. The man with 
 keen observation and a power for visualization be- 
 came a scientist, and opened the way for the inventor. 
 Machinery came into general use, and productivity 
 increased anywhere from a hundred to a thousand 
 fold. Wealth became possible in a world which had 
 always had diiificulty in producing enough to stave 
 off starvation by the labor of human hands and the 
 use of a few animals. With greater wealth has come 
 more leisure. 
 
 Have we, however, acquired more culture? The 
 answer depends on the meaning of culture. If it 
 means entire exemption from useful pursuits, we have 
 undoubtedly lost in comparison to the Greeks. The 
 Athenians and Spartans had fully one out of every 
 four or five inhabitants exempt from remunerative 
 work. Their time was not spent in idleness, but in 
 the cultivation of the soul and service to the state, 
 in return for which they received an allowance suffi- 
 ciently large to pay for the necessaries of life. There 
 is no community in modern times, even with our 
 increased production, which has an equally large pro- 
 portion of men exempted from making a living. This 
 exemption led, however, to an increasingly further 
 removal from the facts of life, and a more abstract 
 and sterile form of thinking or to a mere empty dis- 
 
MATERIAL AND CULTURAL CIVILIZATION 281 
 
 cussion about the achievements of ancestors. The 
 result was loss of joy in life with its attendant pes- 
 simism and the theory of an all-controlling fate. 
 
 If, on the other hand, culture means the dissemina- 
 tion of knowledge — useful, pleasurable and discip- 
 linary — among a larger number of men, we have out- 
 stripped the Greeks. If, furthermore, culture means 
 more accurate knowledge tending to minister to life 
 in every form, we have surpassed them again. If, 
 finally, it means the refinement of the emotions, mori, 
 urbanity, more neighborly good fellowship, the scales 
 undoubtedly incline in our favor. 
 
 The recent occurrences during the World War do 
 not upset this argument. Even the worst outrages 
 were not as bad as those of former times ; prisoners 
 were certainly not always treated with due considera- 
 tion; they were, however, not slaughtered, but, con- 
 sidering the shortage of food, fairly well fed; and the 
 sick and wounded even of the enemy received as much 
 care as was possible under the circumstances. The 
 devastated regions are building up rapidly, owing 
 partly to the initiative of the survivors and their love 
 of life, and partly to the friendly aid extended to them 
 by other countries. No calamity or catastrophe has 
 found a modern nation helpless and willing to sur- 
 render abjectly to the supposedly inevitable, as hap- 
 pened almost invariably in ancient or medieval times. 
 Cities destroyed by fire or earthquakes were usually 
 abandoned in former ages ; now the inhabitants devise 
 ways and means for rebuilding them on a larger 
 scale while the ashes are still warm. 
 
 We are apt to lose the true proportions in our esti- 
 mate of Greek and modern culture. We judge the 
 
282 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 former by the few mountain peaks which stand out 
 prominently to this day, and, curiously enough, as- 
 sume that the hills and valleys had the same eleva- 
 tion; our contemporaries we measure by "the man in 
 the street," who may not be a shining example of 
 culture, but who is after all more courteous and bet- 
 ter informed than even a well-known philosopher like 
 Diogenes. In passing judgment on the savagery of 
 the World War, considerable weight should be given 
 to the fact that sensation mongers and propagandists 
 had purposes of their own to serve, and frequently 
 exaggerated or invented untoward occurrences, for 
 even modern culture has not yet reached the stage 
 where every man is willing to die rather than tell 
 nothing but the truth. Nevertheless, no nation of 
 to-day has acquired a reputation as national liars, as 
 the Greeks did. 
 
 > Equitable distribution of wealth and genuine cul- 
 ture. — The question is, consequently, not whether 
 we should strive for wealth or for culture, for we 
 have need for more of both; but how to distribute 
 our wealth more equitably, and make culture more 
 genuine by turning it into an agency for promoting 
 good-will among men? Culture must be useful, not 
 necessarily or even preferably in a financial manner; 
 but by improving the relations among men and by add- 
 ing to the joy of life. Where it becomes a means of 
 snobbishness, as it usually did in the past because 
 conceived narrowly, it fostered class consciousness 
 and divided men into idlers and toilers. This was 
 unwholesome for both, and society had only a precari- 
 ous existence, as is proved by the fall of all ancient 
 spates. Similar proof is furnished by modern states. 
 
MATERIAL AND CULTURAL CIVILIZATION 283 
 
 The French people were essentially in this condi- 
 tion before the Revolution. The masses were looked 
 upon as useful machines by the upper classes. There 
 was a wide chasm which divided the two. It was 
 supposed to be based on a difference in capacity, while 
 in reality it was one of opportunity. With the re- 
 moval of hereditary privileges and the extension of 
 economic and educational facilities, the masses have 
 given evidence in many cases of high capacity. This 
 extension of opportunity and diffusion of knowledge 
 has made the French a stronger and happier people, 
 because a larger number of men have been able to 
 develop and express their natural gifts, and the whole 
 world has profited. 
 
 A similar, if not worse, condition existed in Russia. 
 Ignorance was the prevailing virtue, and vodka the 
 predominant vice. The two went well together, and 
 enabled the large landowners and the bureaucracy 
 to have their own way. The masses were always 
 held in contempt and their lives were cheaper than 
 those of sheep. The man who could read and write 
 would never think of doing any manual labor; the 
 mushiks were there for that, and they were cheaper 
 than machines. Then came the revolution. A party 
 professing a hearty interest in the masses got control 
 of the government. Beelzebub drove out the devil, 
 and the state of Russia is worse than before. Under 
 the tsar there was some work and bread, now there 
 is neither, except for the minions of Lenine and 
 Trotzki. Formerly you might express any kind of an 
 opinion, except in criticism of the government; now 
 your whole mind is cast into a mold which has been 
 carefully prepared by those in control to cover every 
 
284 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 possible contingency, both present and future. Under 
 the old regime you might be an aristocrat, a bourgeois, 
 or a mushik, and by ability and industry improve 
 your condition; under the new, you can only be an 
 employee of the state, sharing with the idlers and 
 incompetents whatever is produced. It is true, that 
 the heads of the Soviet government allow for the 
 present higher compensation to the competent than 
 to the incompetent ; that, however, is only a necessary 
 measure permitted during the transition period. The 
 ultimate aim, avowed and publicly acknowledged, 
 is the reduction of all to the same level — a higher 
 one, as claimed by the Commissars ; a lower one, as 
 all history and the numerous communisitc experiments 
 prove. 
 
 Why has Russia jumped from the tsaristic frying 
 pan into the bolshevistic fire? The reason lies in the 
 lack of culture. The masses could, owing to their 
 illiteracy, not think ^at all except in concrete terms 
 of bread and butter and self-indulgence as far as their 
 means permitted. They certainly had no culture, and 
 did not claim any. The bolshevist leaders have none, 
 but claim to have it because they are highly educated. 
 Why should we not allow their claim? They have 
 never faced life and facts, but have always lived in 
 a world of abstractions and of the mystic formulae 
 of Marxian philosophy. The fact that they are con- 
 versant with every possible argument in favor of com- 
 munism, that in subtlety of distinctions and in cogent 
 reasoning from assumed premises, they can excel any 
 antagonist, does not give them culture, but only use- 
 less if not dangerous knowledge — dangerous at least 
 to the illiterate peasants who are unable to judge the 
 
MATERIAL AND CULTURAL CIVILIZATION 285 
 
 validity of an argument when presented in technical 
 terms hidden under a ready flow of language ; danger- 
 ous also to the half-educated literates, whose mem- 
 ories have been packed with quotations from socialis- 
 tic and communistic writers, and whose minds are 
 of the receptive and acquisitive type, but never of the 
 creative or even critical. Let loose a band of these 
 voluble and eloquent talkers upon the ignorant peas- 
 antry, let them tell the drudges that they have created 
 all, the wealth of Russia, that all things are in their 
 power if they only dare assert themselves and grasp 
 them, and topsy-turvydom is bound to happen. The 
 porter of the bank will be made its president, and the 
 president become the porter; the private a general, 
 and the general compelled to black shoes for a living, 
 since he is not fit to be even a private. 
 
 The correctness of these statements is proved by 
 the fact that Lenine had to admit his inability to find 
 ompetent men among his followers to run the fac- 
 -ories, and had to compromise his principles by pay- 
 ing high salaries to members of the bourgeoisie to 
 run them for him. This admission is proof that he is 
 no altogether bereft of reason and that he is willing 
 to compromise in order to keep in power. It is a 
 matter of necessity, not a change of mind. 
 
 Meaning of culture. — This whole situation shows, 
 however, that abstract and concrete thinking must co- 
 operate if society is to progress and men are to de- 
 velop. The leaders of Russia have ideas, but do not 
 know how to apply them constructively; the laborers 
 know how to toil, but not how to apply ideas ; hence 
 the bourgeois who is able to work, that is, conceive 
 and apply ideas, has to be called in to save the thinker 
 
286 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 and the toiler alike. And that, after all, means cul- 
 ture; it means joy and balance; it means a larger 
 personality. 
 
 Perhaps the best way to illustrate this point is by 
 a quotation. Mrs. Palmer was not only a highly 
 educated but also a very useful woman. As president 
 of Wellesley College she exerted a lasting influence. 
 
 "If there is any one lesson which Mrs. Palmer's 
 life pre-eminently teaches, it is the life-preserving 
 influence of persistent, severe, and judiciously man- 
 aged labor. I ought to make plain how much she 
 excluded. She seldom hurried, never worried, ad- 
 mitted no regrets for the past or anxieties for the 
 future. Drudgery she abhorred, and consequently 
 avoided too great single continuity on the one hand, 
 and disjointed fragmentariness on the other. From 
 these insidious dangers she was saved by habits of 
 concentrated attention, by such perception of its 
 human bearings that no part of it became mechanical, 
 by quick separation of the important and unimportant, 
 by perpetual humor and steady enthusiasm — the 
 whole supplemented by a kind of natural vagrancy. 
 She dropped work as easily as she took it up, and 
 never acquired the fatal inability to stop. It was the 
 whole-hearted character of that work which kept us 
 sane and safe. Joy is protective. Where soul, mind 
 and strength are all engaged together, invigoration 
 usually follows. It is the divided nature which 
 lacerates ; the hands in one place, the heart in another. 
 Putting herself fully into her work and freeing it from 
 friction, she made an amount that was appalling to 
 others really beneficial."^ 
 
 1 G. H. Palmer, Life of Alice Freeman Palmer. 
 
MATERIAL AND CULTURAL CIVILIZATION 287 
 
 The development of personalities like Mrs. Palmer's 
 must increasingly become the aim of society through 
 a wider distribution of culture. This requires, how- 
 ever, a better adjustment of work and leisure. 
 
 Every human being has the desire to be comfortable 
 and have ample leisure; and most of us shun work 
 as the curse put upon our ancestors in the garden 
 of Eden for their disobedience. We art apt, however, 
 to put the cart before the horse in wanting to be 
 comfortable before we have earned it. Much of the 
 dissatisfaction in our lives comes from our lack of 
 knowledge of the relation of work to leisure. 
 
 There has been no other way for mankind as a 
 whole to enjoy comforts and luxuries than to acquire 
 them through work. This does not mean mere 
 drudging nor even toil and labor; work means rather 
 the systematic application of physical and mental 
 energy to a task which one has set for himself. 
 
 Work means, consequently, the development of 
 several qualities which make leisure worth while. 
 
 Work and leisure. — There is a vast difference 
 between idleness and leisure. The men who were 
 waiting in the market place to be hired by some em- 
 ployer, and waited in some cases till the day was well 
 advanced, were idle, but they did not have leisure; 
 that came afterward, when they had earned and re- 
 ceived their pay. Until that came they were anxious 
 how to meet the expenses for food, and the delay in 
 being hired was far from enjoyable. Neither is there 
 much enjoyment in the idleness of a half-witted per- 
 son who is amply provided for, but has no other than 
 creature comforts to give pleasure. To enjoy leisure, 
 two things are necessary — means to satisfy one's needs 
 
288 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 and comforts, and to have a fairly developed mind for 
 looking at the world with what may be called a 
 spiritual eye. A sunset to a civilize^d man is an object 
 of beauty and enjoyment ; to an idiot it means nothing 
 whatever, and to a savage rarely more than a variety 
 of colors without any significance. 
 
 Both the means for meeting one's needs and the 
 development of mind can be attained only through 
 work. There must be systematic exertion, in some 
 respect, at least, to release the innate capacities and 
 have them function in their specific directions. It is 
 said that the poet is born, not made; yet we would 
 care little for the vaporings of the greatest poetical 
 genius who had not taken pains to speak his language 
 correctly, more correctly even than the man of lesser 
 gifts. In addition to a rich and voluminous vocabu- 
 lary and the ability to use it properly, the poet must 
 know many other things. The knowledge of all these 
 things does not come without persistent study, even 
 to the most gifted man ; hence genius has been de- 
 fined by some as the capacity for taking infinite pains. 
 Whether this definition is correct or not does not 
 concern us; the fact remains that the highest innate 
 capacity is not supposed to be exempt from the neces- 
 sity of work. Systematic exertion is, then, necessarir 
 both for providing the means and the capacity for 
 enjoying leisure. 
 
 This is the great lesson which society is trying to 
 learn at present. In the past, idleness was looked 
 upon as the goal of exertion. To be free from toil, 
 to "hang around," to eat and sleep, and to be free 
 from any responsibility — was the aim of most men. 
 Work was the evil which one must endure in order 
 
MATERIAL AND CULTURAL CIVILIZATION 28y 
 
 to reach this goal. The idleness which was attained 
 in this way was, consequently, in many cases em- 
 ployed for vicious and mischievous purposes. Man 
 must do something ; if there is nothing useful for him 
 to perform, he will resort to mischief. And the man 
 who is exempt from work will fall into temptation. 
 
 Work is more systematized at present than ever 
 before in the history of mankind. Everywhere in 
 civilized countries the various aspects of what is con- 
 tributory to sustenance are entrusted to men specially 
 skilled. We call this the division of labor. Down 
 to the most minute part, work has been divided and 
 subdivided, until there is for men little to do but to 
 perform certain movements, almost mechanical in 
 their nature. In a well-equipped shoe factory there 
 may be thirty or more occupations, so minutely are 
 the different operations subdivided. What has hap- 
 pened in shoe manufacture is simply one illustration 
 out of many. 
 
 Results of specialization. — ^This specialization has 
 had a two-fold effect. It has made possible a very 
 much greater productivity and thus laid the founda- 
 tion for greater wealth. It has, on the other hand, 
 stimulated the mentality, especially inventiveness, 
 among a comparatively small group of men, while it 
 has condemned the majority of workers to monoto- 
 nous tasks and hindered their development intellectu- 
 ally. The man who made a whole shoe from a whole 
 hide had an incentive to show what he could do, 
 not so much in quantity as by way of quality. 
 The modern operative is paid by the amount of out- 
 put along a narrow line, since the quality is deter- 
 mined by the machine rather than by his own skill. 
 
r:3 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 The greater amount of wealth produced by specializa- 
 tion has, however, been more than a compensation for 
 the narrowing of the intellectual outlook of the worker 
 in his occupation. It has given him more leisure dur- 
 ing which to develop those parts of his mental life, 
 which he must perforce neglect in his occupation ; and 
 it has also given him the means to satisfy that demand 
 through higher wages. The community as a whole 
 has also been benefitted by this increase in wealth, 
 because the means of culture have become more 
 abundant and more generally available. 
 
 The sum total of the whole development has, then, 
 been beneficial all around, provided the different 
 classes concerned in this matter are sufificiently so- 
 cially alive to profit from the new situation. Several 
 things are necessary for this purpose. 
 
 A more equitable distribution of wealth is impera- 
 tive. This does not mean equal distribution, but one 
 more in harmony with the share in production, which 
 each factor has in that process. To illustrate rather 
 roughly : If a coal company has to raise wages 5 per 
 cent, but raises the price of coal 25 per cent on the 
 claim of increased cost of production, the raise in 
 wages is not equitable, because not proportionate to 
 the raise in price. The latter should only be in pro- 
 portion to the former. Again, when, under "scientific 
 management," the output is increased from three to 
 fivefold, but wages increase only 75 to 125 per cent, 
 the increase is not equitable because not proportion- 
 ate. A proportionate distribution would enable the 
 workingman either to buy more means of culture, or 
 to buy the same means by working fewer hours. This 
 is the economic problem. 
 
MATERIAL AND CULTURAL CIVILIZATION 291 
 
 Education and leisure. — The social problem consists 
 in teaching the worker to use the increased wages 
 and the longer leisure to greater advantage. It is 
 very discouraging to find that in many cases — not by 
 any means all — a larger income means more wasteful 
 expenditure, especially in the form of alcoholic 
 beverages and other indulgences. 
 
 The community as a whole is now sufficiently edu- 
 cated to condemn starvation wages, but it also con- 
 demns the wasteful use of higher wages. It dis- 
 tinctly encourages a more equitable distribution of 
 wealth, provided always that proper use is being 
 made of it. There is, perhaps, no problem before 
 society more important and pressing than the proper 
 adjustment of work and leisure. Both of these fur- 
 nish the foundation for progress, and it is to the inter- 
 est of the community that there should be full leisure 
 ior none, and some leisiure for all. 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 THE RECONSTRUCTION OF EDUCATION 
 
 Social personality the aim of society. — The whole 
 drift of the discussion in the preceding chapters has 
 been in the direction of creating a social personality. 
 Such a person must be self-reliant, purposeful, and 
 resourceful. The monogamic family is thus far the 
 principal agency leading toward this aim from the 
 spiritual, and eugenics the chief means in attaining 
 this end from the physical point of view. The woman's 
 movement for a larger opportunity in modern affairs 
 and for a more intelligent view of motherhood is going 
 to unlock vast treasures of hitherto buried talents, 
 and will become the occasion of unfolding many social 
 personalities which remained stunted in the past. But 
 for both men and women work is the condition of 
 mental and social growth, and health the basis on 
 which a wholesome personality must rest. Such a 
 personality will demand and make possible a new 
 social control through healthy self-expression and ex- 
 pansion, in place of the old control based on methods 
 of repression and stultification. The function of relig- 
 ion must, accordingly, become increasingly more social 
 by making the world which is here and now better 
 and more harmonious. A socialized industry will fur- 
 nish the economic opportunity for a larger social per- 
 sonality, and a wholesome nationalism the occasion 
 for a fuller manifestation of racial talents. Interna- 
 tionalism will, especially through pure and applied 
 science, increase these opportunities through the inter- 
 
 292 
 
THE RECONSTRUCTION OF EDUCATION 293 
 
 play of give-and-take and by removing the wasteful 
 frictions and expenditures of war. Mankind will thus 
 come into a position where it is able to appreciate 
 the relation between material and cultural civilization 
 more accurately, and gage the part which each plays 
 in the formation of social personality more correctly. 
 For the attainment of this general and inclusive pur- 
 pose, much educational work will be necessary, and 
 that will require a reconstruction of our educational 
 system along many lines, but chiefly in regard to its 
 attitude. 
 
 ' Education individualistic. — Like religion, education 
 has in the past maintained an individualistic attitude. 
 It has been concerned with individuals whom it was 
 anxious to rescue from the overwhelming floods of 
 ignorance, just as religion was desperately trying to 
 pluck some brands from the fire. Society as a whole 
 was in each case left to take care of itself — a task 
 which was rather difficult owing to the ignorance 
 and immorality of both the classes and the masses. 
 The saints and the scholars lived apart from "the 
 world" of sin and ignorance, and this separation has 
 been to a large extent responsible for the slow develop- 
 ment of society. Scholarship, like sainthood, became 
 the badge of a class-distinction which has not been 
 removed to this day. Previous to the recent war the 
 German who had received his education in the Gym- 
 nasium enjoyed a much higher social standing than 
 the one who had been educated in the Real-Schule, 
 because a classical education was considered a badge 
 of the leisure class, while one more practical and 
 scientific was looked upon as inspired by economic 
 necessity which it was intended to relieve. 
 
294 CHAPTER XV 
 
 Classical education has come down to us from the 
 time when only the few could be educated because 
 they were supported either by slaves or serfs; and 
 its votaries still object to knowledge which may be 
 useful in improving our material condition. It is to 
 that extent still individualistic and, to certain extent, 
 anti-social, because it continues a separation of men 
 into classes which in India have remained petrified as 
 castes. Even now an impecunious English gentleman 
 will deprive himself of comforts in order to save a 
 little money so as to be able to play cricket or tennis 
 for much needed exercise; but he would rather starve 
 than soil his hands by taking his exercise through 
 work in his garden. A haberdashery clerk may be 
 eligible to the Henley Regatta, but not the most skill- 
 ful artisan or craftsman. 
 
 The higher esteem in which a classical education has 
 been held as compared to one of a more useful scien- 
 tific character, is due chiefly to the supposed differ- 
 ence in their cultural values. A leisure class natu- 
 rally valued those things which contributed to the 
 greater joy and refinement of life, gave it a lighter 
 touch, and made men and women forget the dreary 
 facts of every-day conflicts. Art, music, literature, 
 philosophy and religion have this effect, and they 
 became the principal means of a culture of leisure. 
 It was chiefly the Beautiful, to a lesser extent the 
 True, and rarely the Good, which formed this cul- 
 ture. The upper classes wanted to enjoy life, and 
 with a single-mindedness which appears to us sur- 
 prising, they devoted themselves to this pursuit. 
 Truth was faced in theory, but not in life, else this 
 class would and must have recognized that their joys 
 
THE RECONSTRUCTION OF EDUCATION 295 
 
 were based on the economic exploitation of the 
 masses; the truth was sought in an abstract form, 
 not in life. The Good was sought and applied within 
 the narrow bounds of the upper classes; outside of 
 them it remained an empty phrase; for instance, one 
 must respect virtue in a lady, but not in a woman 
 who had to make a living. The whole aspect of cul- 
 ture was supercilious, because it was based on a 
 class distinction and on removal from social life as a 
 whole. The inevitable result of every culture of this 
 kind has been deterioration of the arts and degenera- 
 tion of its devotees. In a commercial age like ours, 
 with its vast wealth controlled by a few, such cul- 
 ture has become a mere race for outstripping a social 
 competitor in wasteful expenditure, or in sensations 
 like a dinner given to a monkey. Versatility in fu- 
 tilities and frivolities has been the mark of this cul- 
 ture, whether we look to Babylon, Rome, Paris, or 
 New York. 
 
 The Arts can flourish only in an atmosphere of 
 social activity; the Truth can be found only in life; 
 and the Good must be applied to all classes. That 
 means, howevci, a culture for a democracy. It dif- 
 fers radically from that of an aristocracy. 
 
 Democracy and Culture. — An aristocracy divides 
 rights and duties unequally; the few have chiefly 
 rights, the many chiefly duties. In a democracy, 
 rights and duties, privileges and responsibilities are 
 equally divided, because all men are citizens. This 
 implies that every man must render some service to 
 justify his existence; no one should be permitted to 
 become a pensioner, parasite, or grafter. If every 
 citizen renders some useful service by a contribution 
 
296 CHAPTER XV 
 
 to society, leisure and wealth will be more equitably 
 distributed, and culture will become possible for all. 
 What kind of culture ? 
 
 It must be a culture of deed, not of fancy ; of fact, 
 not of imagination. It must translate Beauty into 
 life, not by painting an ideal mother, but by making 
 one out of every young woman; not by turning the 
 lifeless marble into an Appollo Belvedere, but by turn- 
 ing our young men into specimens of strong and 
 healthy manhood; not by singing about the beauties 
 of the age of chivalry, but by glorifying the life which 
 is before us — with its Red Cross and railroads, its 
 philanthropy and factories, its science and commerce, 
 its spiritual and material conquests. It must concern 
 itself less with the architecture of the Cathedral of 
 Rheims or the Rathshaus of Ghent, and more with 
 school houses in New York and workingmen's cot- 
 tages in Chicago. It was Nietzsche, I believe, who 
 said: "He that grows a beautiful rose is greater 
 than he who can paint one." Fact is greater than 
 fancy; and the true artist is he who can turn life 
 into art. The means of culture must be available for 
 every one, not in the museum, but in the home; not 
 in the millionaire's palace with its million-dollar pic- 
 ture, but in the house of the humble bank clerk with 
 its well-appointed and artistic furniture. 
 
 The Good, too, must be translated into life for every 
 man. Class morality which deemed one man better 
 than another must pass into the records of the past, 
 just as the race morality of the Hebrews with its 
 Jew and Gentile, and that of the Greeks with its Greek 
 and Barbarian, are now mere historical memories. 
 Man-made morality with its discriminations against 
 
THE RECONSTRUCTION OF EDUCATION 297 
 
 •woman must be supplanted by higher ethics for both, 
 so as to enable them to live a richer and fuller life 
 by complementing each other's qualities. The morality 
 of exploitation by the strong must give way to one 
 of helpfulness to the weak, so that he, the latter, may 
 have a chance to live more decently and contribute 
 his mite to social well-being. 
 
 And the Truth must be for all. There should no 
 longer be the esoteric knowledge for the initiated, and 
 the exoteric for the outsiders. In a democracy all 
 Icnowledge must be open to those who seek it and are 
 able to profit by it, because every man has a voice 
 in determining the issues of the state. Already work- 
 ingmen and business men are demanding that secret 
 diplomacy be abolished, because it has been the means 
 in the hands of the few to despoil the many by provok- 
 ing wars. If men are to risk their lives and limbs, 
 they have a right to know the reason why. If they 
 are to render an intelligent judgment on important 
 issues, they must have the necessary information. A 
 democracy must act intelligently, if it is not to become 
 a "mobocracy." The truth alone will make it free, to 
 act for the good of all. 
 
 This, briefly stated, will have to be the cultural 
 ideal of a democracy, and education is the means to 
 inculcate it into society. Such an ideal will not 
 abolish differences in capacity, but will lay a founda- 
 tion for social solidarity. It will still permit or en- 
 courage the study of classical literature; it will not 
 tolerate the pharisaic pride of him who can say: 
 "capra in ripa pascebatur." instead of "the goat is nib- 
 bling grass along the bank"; it will not extol the 
 <lauber who spends his time painting third-rate 
 
298 CHAPTER XV 
 
 Venus^s, while he neglects his family; it will honor 
 the man who in whatever vocation, renders an hon- 
 est day's work in order to provide properly for his 
 children. 
 
 Meaning of education. — John Ruskin has, perhaps, 
 given the most characteristic statement concerning 
 the meaning of education. "To make people not 
 merely do the right thing, but enjoy the right things ; 
 not merely industrious, but to love industry; not 
 merely learned, but to love knowledge; not merely 
 pure, but to love purity ; not merely just, but to hunger 
 and thirst after justice." This means briefly a com- 
 bination of thought and action swathed in a proper 
 emotion; or a combination of fact and idea. Knowl- 
 edge of facts alone will merely burden the memory; 
 right action alone will make an automaton of a man 
 on the model of a Prussian soldier ; thought alone will 
 issue in futilities, like that of the Scholastics of the 
 Middle Ages. All three must combine to assure inter- 
 est in what we are doing, and to save us from that 
 fear of life, from which many men are suffering. The 
 separation of the three gave the ancients their taedium 
 vitae, and to the modems la peur de vivre, as the 
 French have tersely called the malady which comes 
 from lack of interest and enthusiasm in life. Our 
 thought and actions must, furthermore, be directed 
 toward our fellowmen through social service to insure 
 the growth of our personality, which, after all, is 
 the only thing worth living for. 
 
 Social service.— What is social service? There have 
 sprung up, both in Europe and America, numerous 
 institutions for what is called social service. They 
 send out literature and claim to do all kinds of things 
 
^HE RECONSTRUCTION OF EDUCATION 299 
 
 for all kinds of men. As a matter of fact they often 
 take from Peter to pay Paul, or collect money from 
 the rich to pauperize the poor; sometimes they exist 
 merely to provide a living for a number of people; 
 and occasionally they fail to pay their bills. That is 
 plainly not social service, but parasitism, notwith- 
 standing all the protests of the managers. 
 
 "He serves others who gives more than he receives. 
 The value to society and the cost to ourselves of our 
 work ought to be greater than the pay we get for 
 it."^ Such a procedure would, however, lead to bank- 
 ruptcy, if personality were static. Society might grow 
 at the expense of the individual ; but, since its surplus 
 must eventually come from individuals, it would have 
 to collapse, too. That has actually happened in all 
 nations among whom the citizens were required to 
 give more than they could afford. True social serv- 
 ice must, consequently, be of a nature which does not 
 impoverish but rather enriches personality. That is pos- 
 sible on the basis of a growing and expanding per- 
 sonality. While the value of our service to society 
 should be greater than what we receive in economic 
 terms, the activities of the service must enlarge our 
 minds by suggestions, stimulation and satisfaction. 
 That happens, as a matter of fact, in all well-directed 
 and carefully thought-out action. If we render service, 
 our principal compensation consists in the psychic in- 
 crement, rather than in the economic return. There 
 must, of course, be economic compensation, otherwise 
 service must cease. This interplay of give-and-take 
 makes possible both a social surplus and an individual 
 
 1 John R. Commons, Labor and Administration, p. 4. Macmillan Com- 
 pany, 1913. 
 
300 CHAPTER XV 
 
 growth, and that is the only method by which progress 
 becomes possible. 
 
 Basis of social service. — The individual can, how- 
 ever, render a real service only on the basis of his 
 special talent. The development of that depends, as 
 was pointed out in the chapter on The New Social 
 Control, on the closest possible co-operation of many 
 men through the division of labor. Where diflferentia- 
 tion of gifts or talents has proceeded only to a small 
 «xtent, the contributions to society by all individuals 
 will be very similar, and progress must be slow. 
 Where it has proceeded further, but with poor co- 
 ordination of the contributions, there is conflict be- 
 tween the exploiters and the exploited, or capital and 
 labor ; there may be progress, even rapid progress, but 
 its career will be stormy. A more complete co-ordina- 
 tion by better economic adjustments and a more 
 complete development of the special talent of every 
 man, must lead to integration. The individual will 
 recognize his dependence on others, as they do on 
 him. This interdependence will lead to the extension 
 of social service, because on no other condition is 
 the growth of personality possible. The individual 
 is thus compelled to live in society and to act socially 
 if he wants to develop into what nature intended him 
 to be, and to get true satisfaction. 
 
 It should become the prerogative of social educa- 
 tion to "bring home" this interdependence constantly, 
 not by special lessons, but in the course of all instruc- 
 tion. A good example how this may be done is given 
 here.* The problem of why Texas has no cotton mills, 
 although it produces much cotton, was worked out 
 by a pupil as follows. 
 
 1 American Journal of Sociology, May, 1919; p. 683. 
 
THE RECONSTRUCTION OP EDUCATION 301 
 
 "The reason there are no cotton mills in Texas 
 is because there are very few rivers. The rivers they 
 do have do not carry a steady volume of water. Some- 
 times there is not enough water to run the mills, 
 and at other times there are floods. 
 
 "They could use coal for power, but there are very 
 few coal mines in Texas. The coal would be harder 
 to ship than the cotton. 
 
 "Texas is a very good place to raise cattle, and 
 people ought to raise cattle instead of putting in 
 cotton mills. 
 
 "It takes very many people to work in cotton mills, 
 and being a farming state, Texas isn't very densely 
 populated. 
 
 "The machinery would have to be sent a long way 
 to be put in the mills, because there are few, if any, 
 iron mines in Texas. 
 
 "There are a few cotton mills in the South, but the 
 East still ranks ahead. 
 
 "The ready-to-wear garments are made in the North 
 and the East rather than in the South. For this reason, 
 it is easier to have mills in the East than in the South. 
 There are more people in the East than in the South to 
 buy garments. 
 
 "I think it's best to have our cotton mills in the east- 
 ern states and have Texas do what she can best do ; 
 that is, raise cattle." 
 
 Lack of social spirit in teaching. — Geography, his- 
 tory, literature, industries, instruction in morality, and 
 especially civics, may be taught in a social spirit. 
 The object of social education is, after all, not the 
 teaching of specific things, e. g., sociology — for even 
 that may be taught in an unsocial manner if it be- 
 
302 CHAPTER XV 
 
 comes merely the mastery of a new scientific jargon — 
 but the creation of a social atmosphere by a teacher 
 who is able to relate things to their social origin. 
 Where, for instance, religion is taught in schools, 
 it is almost invariably done in an individualistic man- 
 ner, notwithstanding the fact that its origin and 
 development are entirely dependent on those of so- 
 ciety. Most teachers of religion look upon their 
 subject as completely detached from social moye- 
 ments, either because they believe it to be inspired — 
 whatever that may mean to them — or because their 
 teaching is by rote, as so much material to be mas- 
 tered to satisfy the requirements of the higher author- 
 ities. This has been the case specifically in Germany 
 where religion has frequently been taught not only by 
 agnostics but by materialists — very often to the undo- 
 ing of young lives and the stunting or killing of 
 whatever spirituality pupils may have brought to the 
 school. 
 
 Literature and the social spirit. — The teaching of 
 literature offers a fruitful field for social education, 
 because literature, as an endeavor to hold up the mir- 
 ror to society, necessarily depends on social condi- 
 tions both as to form and content. Whether as epic, 
 ballad, novel, short story, or even lyric, its success 
 in influencing men depends on the conditions under 
 which they live. The plaintive and mournful songs oi 
 the Slavs, and the folk songs of practically every 
 nation indicate not only subjection and oppression 
 during the last few hundred years, but owe their mood 
 to general civilizational conditions when a pain econ- 
 omy prevailed universally, i. e., when there was a 
 shortage of almost every kind of economic goods, and 
 
THE RECONSTRUCTION OF EDUCATION 303 
 
 when war, diseases, superstition and fear of invisible 
 enemies above and underneath the earth's surface 
 kept people in a depressed state of mind. Then, too, 
 the great literary periods have appeared at definite 
 junctures in history, usually during the transition 
 from an old to a new civilization. In each of these 
 cases the poet acts as a focus for all the different rays 
 of social life, and he gives them artistic form and 
 articulate expression by virtue of his individuality. 
 Society is thus mirrored in a personality. 
 
 School mortality and the social spirit. — The instill- 
 ing of the social spirit would relieve most of the sub- 
 jects of their failure to appeal to pupils by having 
 them related to life and to each other. The complaint 
 has been made repeatedly and universally that many 
 boys and girls are not interested in the subjects 
 taught; the high rate of school mortality certainly 
 bears out the truth underlying the complaint. The 
 pupils should not be blamed, however. What is there 
 of interest in a number of unrelated subjects, taught 
 as if they had no reference to life, and none to a 
 healthy boy's desires. Few pupils have the ambition 
 to be shut up within the walls of a monastery with 
 books. The principal way of relieving the situation 
 is by infusing a social spirit into teaching. 
 
 The law of cause and effect. — Social education also 
 demands that the law of cause and effect be taught 
 in connection with every subject. It is surprising how 
 many apparently well informed people are still in the 
 mythological stage of thinking when they approach 
 certain subjects. Take morality as an example. Most 
 people think that goodness can be produced merely 
 by wishing or willing it. They do not realize that 
 
304 CHAPTER XV 
 
 the development of a good character is the result of 
 many factors, e. g., heredity, proper family life, health, 
 appropriate teaching, opportunities for suitable play 
 and recreation, clean dwellings and streets, and the 
 absence of bad examples. Owing to this lack of 
 knowledge of the causes which produce character, 
 teachers of morality and of religion have often asked 
 immoral men to reform merely by the assertion of 
 their will. Determination to succeed along a certain 
 line is certainly a help in attaining an end; it will 
 fail, however, if other factors operate against it. We 
 do not as a rule ask a sick person to laugh and be 
 merry, because we realize that the patient must be 
 put into a condition where that becomes not only 
 possible but is the spontaneous expression of a cheer- 
 ful mood. The moralists have acted on the opposite 
 assumption ; they have asked the starving man to be 
 honest, the politically and economcially exploited to 
 bless the exploiter, men and women born with tainted 
 blood to be pure, and other impossibilities. The results 
 were usually negative as far as the particular indi- 
 viduals were concerned, and positively dangerous in 
 regard to society. If a man can do everything merely 
 by willing it, there is of course no need to improve 
 social conditions and make life more decent; indeed, 
 his victory will be the greater, the more handicaps 
 he has to overcome. Hence the parading of drunkards 
 and criminals in certain churches until recent times 
 as examples of what a man could accomplish by 
 the "grace of God." The triumphs were usually short- 
 lived, and the backslider followed closely in the wake 
 of the revivalist. 
 ' Even this well-authenticated fact, occurring repeat- 
 
THE RECONSTRUCTION OF EDUCATION 305 
 
 edly again and again all over the country, has failed 
 to open the eyes of many people. They still cling to 
 their mythological form of thinking, and their atti- 
 tude has kept down social improvements to the min- 
 imum. Yet, these people may have college and even 
 university diplomas, may have studied mathematics, 
 physics and chemistry, and be otherwise well in- 
 formed. Where is the trouble? They lack a unified 
 view of life; they reason one way in physics, and 
 another way in morals. The law of cause and efifect 
 is applied in one realm, whim and caprice in another. 
 
 The teacher a citizen as well as an instructor. — 
 
 Two suggestions may be permitted here, one concern- 
 ing philosophy, the other concerning the exact , sci- 
 ences. A course in philosophy, should be made 
 obligatory in all colleges; it should deal with the 
 general conceptions underlying all thinking, with spe- 
 cial emphasis on the law of cause and efifect, so as 
 to give the students a unified world-view. No man 
 can be considered educated if he still reasons in a 
 mythological manner about some aspects of life. The 
 exact sciences are taught in high schools and, to a 
 limited extent, in grammar schools, and they have, 
 consequently, a larger field for usefulness in social 
 education. The reasoning which they follow is a 
 constant application of the law of cause and effect in 
 various forms. The teacher has numerous oppor- 
 tunities — at least he can make them — for calling atten- 
 tion to the fact that this law applies to every aspect 
 of life. The objection may be raised that it is not his 
 business to interfere with the private convictions of 
 his pupils, but to give them information concerning 
 his particular field. That is true; but he is also a 
 
306 CHAPTER XV 
 
 citizen, not a mere teacher. If the schools are to be 
 socialized, the social spirit must pervade every i 'iect 
 taught; the social atmosphere may exist in ; ^^^^^ 
 
 wrhere physics and mathematics are taught a , ^ jgy 
 
 as in the one where history and literature ,. ^^. 
 
 cussed, although in a different form. It wc ,^ ' j^ ^ 
 
 seem impossible nor inappropriate to call th 
 tion of the pupils to the fact that our whole ..laterial 
 civilization is ultimately traceable to the exact reason- 
 ing employed in mathematics, physics and chemistry, 
 and that much of our culture depends on the applica- 
 tion of these principles in mechanics and the various 
 industries, because they have made possible a larger 
 dissemination of knowledge, of artistic objects, and 
 of the tools of art, e. g., musical instruments. An 
 occasional hint that our moral and social life is like- 
 wise founded upon certain laws the application of 
 which will enable us to build up a more harmonious 
 personality and society, would be a great help to many 
 young people, and to the teacher of sociology. 
 
 Medicine and the social spirit. — ^That the sciences 
 may be imbued with a social spirit is shown by the 
 movements in modern medicine. Until recently it 
 was conceived as having relations only to individuals 
 whom it might cure when ill. Now the prophylactic 
 attitude is dominant; and by hygiene, dietetics, and 
 the formulation of principles for every aspect of phys- 
 ical life, it has come to look upon the preservation of 
 health and the building up of a strong and wholesome 
 manhood and womanhood as its chief object. It has 
 allied itself for this purpose with chemistry and 
 biology, psychology and sociology, in order to get a 
 more complete and general knowledge of the factors 
 
THE RECONSTRUCTION OF EDUCATION 30/ 
 
 which enter into the making of man; and with me- 
 chanics and engineering to make our cities and dwell- 
 ings more sanitary. As a recognition of this distinct 
 social obligation, the most progressive medical schools 
 have established special courses leading to the degree of 
 Doctor of Public Health. 
 
 Patience and the social spirit. — Another aspect of 
 social education is patience. This seems to be a purely 
 individual virtue, because it has always been treated 
 as such; it should, however, be considered from the 
 social point of view. Not only because it removes 
 friction between individuals, but because society as 
 a whole needs to cultivate it in order to get a true 
 appreciation of its past development and its present 
 difificulties. Only the geologist, biologist, historian, 
 and sociologist have as a rule an idea of the many 
 aeons required for making our planet habitable and for 
 evolving a man out of a brute. And primitive man in 
 turn had to pass through a long course of experiences, 
 before the age of history began to dawn and various 
 social institutions made their first crude appearance. 
 From that time to the present, the years are but few 
 as compared to prehistoric and geological ages; they 
 are many, however, in comparison to the short span of 
 the individual life. Modern man is the heir to the 
 achievements of thousands of generations; but he 
 imagines that they are a few centuries old ; and when 
 he looks upon the rapid progress made since our 
 grandfather's time, he may conclude that civilization 
 began only yesterday and ought to be completed to- 
 morrow. Much of the immature thinking and writing 
 of to-day is due to this lack of historical, biological 
 and geological persepective. 
 
308 CHAPTER XV 
 
 These three sciences have an important function 
 to perform in social education along the line just 
 indicated. What sociology has to make one of its 
 principal tasks is, to impress the students with the 
 necessity of the slowness of every process which is to 
 lead to anything of a permanent and valuable nature 
 in society. This, history, biology, and geology with 
 ■astronomy may and eventually must do, at least as a 
 secondary task. The pupil who has been impressed 
 with the slow and gradual changes from chaos to 
 cosmos, from cosmos to bios, and from bios to socius, 
 is not likely to imagine that we can go to bed social 
 sinners and wake up social saints. Neither will he 
 credit the claims of the Umstuerzler who tell him that 
 they can shatter society to bits and build it up anew 
 in a perfect form of architecture. He knows that 
 everything of value has taken a long time to grow, 
 and that its growth has been by slow and gradual 
 adaptations of the old structures and functions into 
 the new. 
 
 Telic and genetic development. — ^These statements 
 do not contradict what was said about telic or pur- 
 poseful development in earlier chapters ; they endorse 
 it. Telic development implies a close study of natural 
 evolution so as to turn it into social progress under 
 artificial conditions ; there may be some acceleration 
 of the process, some improvement in the combination 
 and selection of materials ; but there is no fundamental 
 change, and -certainly no break in the order. We have 
 simply turned the oxcart into the tramcar; but in 
 each case, locomotion is by wheels. 
 
 Open-mindedness and the social spirit. — Open-mind- 
 edness is another quality which social education de- 
 
THE RECONSTRUCTION OF EDUCATION 309 
 
 mands in our teaching. This depends on the form of 
 presentation rather than on the material. Any subject, 
 not excepting sociology, may be taught in a dogmatic 
 manner and by authority. Biology as well as theology 
 may be presented as a finished and complete system. 
 In any subject where questions are discountenanced 
 and objections tabooed, the spirit of free investigation 
 is killed; and wherever authority takes the place 
 of direct observation — when the latter is demanded 
 and possible — the teaching is by dead letter, not by 
 the living spirit. The attitude of the scholastics still 
 prevails among many teachers. 
 
 Not so many years ago a student in a well-known 
 university wrote a master's thesis on the social activi- 
 ties of a high school in which he himself had been an 
 interested and efficient teacher. It was a good piece of 
 descriptive sociology. As a matter of courtesy the 
 thesis was submitted to a German-trained pedagogue 
 who promptly disapproved it because few educational 
 authorities were quoted. The sociologist replied that 
 the student had not written on the school system of 
 Hammurabi, but on what he had observed and of 
 which he had been a part; the thesis needed accurate 
 observation and logical treatment, not irrelevant 
 quotations. The student knew the general authorities, 
 as his large bibliography proved, and there were none 
 on his particular field. The pedagogue was puzzled 
 and demurred, but finally gave his approval as a con- 
 cession to a colleague whom, however, he continued 
 to consider unscholarly. Prussia has killed the spirit 
 of her people by authoritative teaching of the kind 
 mentioned, and much of it has been introduced into 
 American universities by students studying abroad. 
 
310 CHAPTER XV 
 
 Social subjects require freedom from bias. — Social 
 subjects especially have to be approached with a pecu- 
 liarly open mind, because a living and progressive 
 society is in a constant flux. The relativity of things 
 is nov^^here more obvious than here. To treat them 
 with the bias of fixity and permanency, is prejudicial 
 not only to free inquiry, but to the best interest of 
 those taught and to society as a whole. It is this 
 sort of teaching which has diminished the respect for 
 the teaching profession, has brought even our universi- 
 ties under suspicion, and has prevented many a gifted 
 man from choosing a university career. He finds more 
 opportunities for creative effort in other professions 
 and in business. The result has not been favorable to 
 teaching. Almost any fairly intelligent man can teach 
 by textbooks and authorities; it takes a man of high 
 mental calibre to do original work. Larger salaries — 
 they are lamentably small now — will not remedy the 
 situation, because fteedom to follow his creative bend 
 is more important to a true man than income, provided 
 it is sufficient for his modest needs. 
 
 Health and the social spirit. — Social education im- 
 plies more thorough teaching of all matters pertaining 
 to health. Its social importance has been discussed in 
 a previous chapter; but a few additional words may 
 be appropriate here. Most of the difficulties in main- 
 taining order and discipline in schools arise from sub- 
 normal health. A nervous and devitalized teacher will 
 have much trouble with children, because nervousness 
 is contagious, not in the medical but in the psycho- 
 logical sense. A healthy, well-poised, good-natured in- 
 structor is able to win the respect and affection of the 
 children, and can readily meet any untoward situation 
 
THE RECONSTRUCTION OF EDUCATION 311 
 
 adequately. The devitalized boys and girls, and young 
 men and women, too, are as a rule unable to bear the 
 strain of continuous mental effort, and begin to get 
 unruly in proportion as fatigue increases. Hence, 
 health, both theoretical and practical, should receive 
 greater attention than at present. The appropriations 
 for this purpose are pitifully small even in the schools 
 most progressive in this respect. 
 
 The importance of self-reliance from a personal 
 point of viewr must form a part of social education. 
 Interdependence of individuals has been constantly 
 insisted on in previous chapters. That does not 
 mean, however, dependence. Social service implies 
 the ability to contribute, not to receive; the depend- 
 ent cannot give, because he is not self-reliant. What 
 a long time it took to build up the moral fibre of 
 self-reliance and confidence in one's own power was 
 shown in the first chapter on the Old and the New 
 Civilization. What a short time it takes to break it 
 down we learn almost daily in reports coming from 
 Germany where, since a semi-socialistic regime has 
 been established, many people refuse to work, and 
 prefer to live as pensioners of the state on the claim 
 that they are unemployed. The most industrious 
 people to be found anywhere have been demoralized 
 in an incredibly short time, because they had been 
 taught for two generations to look to the state alone 
 for any initiative and enterprise. Later reports during 
 the autumn of 1919 show, though, that the more virile 
 men among the Germans are becoming aware of this 
 danger, and are preaching the gospel of work and of 
 self-reliance. 
 
 Training for the family. — Would a social education 
 
312 CHAPTER XV 
 
 be complete without instruction on the family, mother- 
 hood, fatherhood, care of children, and eugenics? It 
 may be too much to expect Howard's vision of col- 
 leges of domestic relations as an addition to those 
 of law and medicine to come true; but it is impera- 
 tively necessary that the young men and women 
 should not enter upon the most important portion 
 of their lives without due preparation. 
 
 Socially trained and self-reliant persons will not 
 present a serious problem in regard to the proper 
 use of their leisure. Their own lives and that of 
 society will be full of interest and incentive, their 
 resourcefulness will always lead to wholesome action, 
 and the sense of the integrity of their person will 
 induce them to serve others in every possible way, 
 because they have learned that the growth of their 
 personality depends on it. 
 
 Ideal not Utopian. — Is this ideal possible of realiza- 
 tion? Many educators and other persons are con- 
 vinced of it. Two remarks may be offered as proof. 
 
 The Greeks are a well-known example of what can 
 be done with the human material under none too favor- 
 able economic conditions. Although the citizen was 
 free politically and exempted from the care of mak- 
 ing a living owing to slave labor, he was none too 
 abundantly supplied with material goods; and the 
 sanitary and housing conditions were poor. Short 
 rations, much sickness, and a high death rate were 
 the rule. The exemption from work was a drawback 
 rather than an advantage. Notwithstanding these 
 unfavorable conditions, they achieved by intelligent 
 application many things which we still admire, per- 
 haps envy. They were able to do this by paying 
 
THE RECONSTRUCTION OF EDUCATION 313 
 
 close attention to the human material. Their mar- 
 riages were, on the whole, of a eugenic character, and 
 they produced, e. g., in Athens, a remarkably large 
 number of high-calibred men within a short time 
 from a small population. They knew little about 
 nature, but very much about man. They taught him 
 self-reliance, the art of living, and interdependence 
 with his fellows. Small wonder that their achieve- 
 ments were varied and numerous. 
 
 We know little about man — not technically but 
 practically — and much about nature. Our achieve- 
 ments in the control of her forces are incomparably 
 greater than theirs. The ease with which we have 
 attained them and our backwardness in the art of 
 living has led some moderns to believe that nature 
 is more plastic than man. But the Greeks prove the 
 contrary. The inference is clear. Intelligent applica- 
 tion of mental energy to man must yield as good re- 
 sults to-day as 2,500 years ago ; under our more favor- 
 able conditions in economics, politics, medicine, sani- 
 tation, and education, not to mention others, they 
 ought to be better. We can and must bring our 
 social achievements abreast with those in the sciences 
 and industries, if we are not to perish. 
 
 What we are matters more than what we have. 
 Economic efficiency is rightly held up as an ideal 
 before us ; it has, however, definite limits in the mak- 
 ing of man. Our best men of affairs recognized this 
 long ago, and have accepted the social viewpoint. The 
 mere money makers are, on the other hand, not always 
 good citizens. They "beat" the law, adulterate food, 
 raise rents and prices unnecessarily. Their standards 
 must be brought up to that of their socialized col- 
 
314 CHAPTER XV 
 
 leagues. There are, however, too many men who 
 claim to be the purveyors- of the social spirit; alas! 
 we must take their word for it, since their acts do 
 not prove it. How to socialize all men, and how to 
 make all men economically efficient, is the great task 
 of social education. It is the major social problem. 
 
REFERENCES AND QUESTIONS 315 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 References 
 
 Note: Very little, if any, literature bearing directly on 
 this chapter can be had. The references given are of a gen- 
 eral nature. 
 
 1. What Have the Greeks Done for Modern Civilization? 
 
 John Pentland Mahaflfy, 1909; chapters I, VII, and 
 VIII. 
 
 2. Sophocles, The Seven Plays in English Verse. Lewis 
 
 Campbell, 1896. 
 
 3. Aeschylus in English Verse. Lewis Campbell, 1890. 
 
 4. Genesis, chapter XXV to XXXIII. Judges, chapters VI 
 
 and VII; Isaiah XLV. 
 
 5. Social Control. E. A. Ross, 1910; chapter XII. 
 
 6. Philosophy and Development of Religion. Otto Pflei- 
 
 derer; 2 vols.; 1899. 
 
 Questions 
 
 1. What is the fundamental difference between the old and 
 
 the new civilization? 
 
 2. Illustrate the dependence of the Greeks and the Hebrews 
 
 on their gods. 
 
 3. What were the principal differences between the reli- 
 
 gions of the Greeks and Romans? 
 
 4. What were the causes for the slow progress among the 
 
 ancients? 
 
 5. How did the change in religion help man to progress? 
 
 6. Why are civilized nations so restless? 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 References 
 
 1. Origin of Species. Charles Darwin. 
 
 2. Textbook of Sociology. Dealey and Ward; 1907; part IV. 
 
 3. Applied Sociology. L. F. Ward; 1906; part III. 
 
 4. Psychic Factors of Civilization. L. F. Ward; 1906; part II. 
 
 5. Influence of Geographic Environment. Ellen C. Semple; 
 
 1911; chapter L 
 
3W REFERENCES AND QUESTIONS 
 
 Questions 
 
 1. What is the difference between the passive and the active 
 
 attitude? 
 
 2. How is genetic and telic development distinguished? 
 
 3. How is the conception of evolution applied to society? 
 
 4. What truth is there in the geographical theory? 
 
 5. What is the difference between the development of Rome 
 
 and other countries of antiquity? 
 
 6. What are the steps leading from genetic to telic develop- 
 
 ment? 
 
 7. Has man been compensated for the loss of inerrant 
 
 instincts? 
 
 8. Mention some mental tools. How do they help man? 
 
 9. Do leaders owe much to environment? 
 
 CHAPTER III 
 References 
 
 1. The Principles of Sociology. H. Spencer; vol. I, part II. 
 
 2. History of Matrimonial Institutions. E. G. Howard, 1904; 
 
 vol. I. 
 
 3. The Evolution of Marriage and the Family. Charles Le- 
 
 tourneau, 1891. 
 
 4. The Family. Elsie Clews Parsons, 1912. 
 
 5. The History of Human Marriage. Edward Westermarck. 
 
 1901. 
 
 6. A History of the Family as a Social and Educational 
 
 Institution. W. Goodsell, 1915; chapters I, II, XIII 
 and XIV. 
 
 Questions 
 
 1. What is the probable origin of the family? 
 
 2. Can other forms of the family be explained on the basis 
 
 of temporary pairing? 
 
 3. What do the terms matriarchy, patriarchy, endogamy, and 
 
 exogamy mean? 
 
 4. What are the moral values of monogamy? 
 
 5. How are the emotions refined in monogamy? 
 
 6. What special intellectual gains come from monogamy? 
 
 7. How does monogamy add to the permanence of society? 
 
REFERENCES AND QUESTIONS 31> 
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 References 
 
 1. Genetics. Herbert E. Walter, 1913; chapters I, II, III. 
 
 XI, XII. 
 
 2. The Social Direction of Human Evolution— An Outline of 
 
 the Science of Eugenics. W. E. Kellicott. 1911; chap- 
 ter III. 
 
 3. Heredity in Relation to Evolution and Animal Breeding. 
 
 William E. Castle, 1911; chapters I, II, III. 
 
 4. Heredity in Relation to Eugenics. Charles B. Davenport. 
 
 1911; chapters IV, V, VI, VII. VIII. IX. 
 
 5. Heredity and Environment. Edwin G. Conklin, 191S; 
 
 chapters IV, V, VI. 
 
 6. The Heredity of Richard Roe. David S. Jordan, 1911: 
 
 (popular in style). 
 
 7. Parenthood and Race Culture. C. W. Saleeby, 1910; 
 
 part I. 
 
 8. Applied Eugenics. Paul Poponoe and Roswell H. John- 
 
 son. 1918. 
 
 Questions 
 
 1. Define Eugenics. Why does Galton include both heredity 
 
 and environment? 
 
 2. What distinctions are there between acquisition and ca- 
 
 pacity? Were the Greeks superior in either? 
 
 3. Why is a democracy more in need of talent than a 
 
 monarchy? 
 
 4. What distinction is there belween euthenics and eugenics? 
 
 5. What positive measures are already being taken to im- 
 
 prove the race? 
 
 6. What negative eugenic measures should be taken? 
 
 CHAPTER V 
 References 
 
 \. Women and Economics. Charlotte P. Gilman, 1915. 
 
 Z. The Ways of Women. Ida M. Tarbell, 1915. 
 
 3. The Business of Being a Woman. Ida M. Tarbell, 1913. 
 
318 REFERENCES AND QUESTIONS 
 
 4. Woman and Labor. Olive Schreiner, 1911. 
 
 5. Woman's Share in Social Culture. Anna Garlin Spencer. 
 
 1913. 
 
 6. Pure Sociology. Lester F. Ward, 1903; chapter XIV. 
 
 7. Love and Marriage. Ellen Key. 
 
 8. The Century of the Child. Ellen Key. 
 
 Questions 
 
 1. Is the desire for emancipation based on occupation, or on 
 
 other grounds? 
 
 2. What distinctions are there between the animal and hu- 
 
 man mother? 
 
 3. Is the marriage rate decreasing or increasing? 
 
 4. Why were there few unmarried women in prehistoric 
 
 times? What did they do in historic times? 
 
 5. What adjustment should be made for a maternal woman? 
 
 6. How can we raise the standard of motherhood? 
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 References 
 \. Pure Sociology. Lester F. Ward, 1903; chapters XIII, 
 XVI. XVIII, XIX. 
 
 2. The Politics of Aristotle. By J. E. C. Welldon, 1897; 
 
 chapters IV, V, VI. VII. 
 
 3. Work and Wealth. J. A. Hobson, 1914; chapters I, II, 
 
 IV, V, VI. 
 
 4. Labor and Administration. John R. Commons. 1913; 
 
 chapter I. 
 
 5. The Evolution of Modern Capitalism. J. A. Hobson. 1906. 
 
 Questions 
 
 1. What are the distinctions between toil, labor, and work? 
 
 2. Do animals work? Why not? 
 
 3. Why is intelligence necessary for work? 
 
 4. How does work educate man? 
 
 5. How does work liberate man? 
 
 6. How does work socialize man? 
 
REFERENCES AND QUESTIONS 319 
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 References 
 
 1. Health and Social Progress. Rudolph M. Binder, 1919. 
 
 2. Bulletin of the Committee of One Hundred on National 
 
 Health. Irving Fisher, 1909. 
 
 3. Housing Reform. Lawrence Veiller, 1910. 
 
 4. The Modern City and Its Problems. Frederic Howe, 1915. 
 
 5. The Health of the City. Hollis Godfrey, 1910; chapter 
 
 IX, X. 
 
 6. Social Adjustment. Scott Nearing, 1911; chapter V. 
 
 7. The New Public Health. H. W. Hill, 1916. 
 
 Questions 
 
 1. Why is the health of the individual becoming increasingly 
 
 a social matter? 
 
 2. What mental differences are there between persons in 
 
 good and in poor health? 
 
 3. Have the intellectually keenest men enjoyed good health? 
 
 4. What influences did poor health have in early history? 
 
 5. Why are most poets young, and most scientists old? 
 
 6. How would you criticize the climatic theory of health? 
 
 7. How does congestion affect health? 
 
 8. What remedies are proposed for poor health? 
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 References 
 
 1. Social Control. Edward A. Ross, 1910. 
 
 2. Heredity and Environment in the Development of Men. 
 
 Edwin G. Conklin, 1915; chapter III. 
 
 3. The Individual, a Metaphysical Inquiry. William Forbes 
 
 Cooley, 1909; chapter III. 
 
 4. The Man versus the State. H. Spencer. 
 
 5. Individualism. Warner Fite. 1911; lectures I, II, III. 
 
 6. The World and the Individual. Josiah Royce, 1901; vol. 
 
 I, chapters III, IX, X; vol. II, chapter VI. 
 
320 REFERENCES AND QUESTIONS 
 
 ! Questions 
 
 1. What has been the attitude in social control during the 
 
 past? 
 
 2. Is every individual unique? On what grounds? 
 
 3. Why were only a few talents developed in the past? 
 
 4. Is individuality in work recognized at present? 
 
 5. In what ways does individuality need harmony? 
 
 6. What does an integral self mean? 
 
 7. Are there reasons for believing "that human nature is 
 
 changing? 
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 References 
 
 1. A Theology for the Social Gospel. Walter Rauschen- 
 
 busch, 1917. 
 
 2. Christianizing the Social Order. Walter Rauschenbusch, 
 
 1912. 
 
 3. Christianity and the Social Crisis. Walter Rauschen- 
 
 busch, 1907. 
 
 4. The Ethics of Jesus and Social Progress. Charles S. 
 
 Gardner, 1914. 
 
 5. The Gospel of Jesus and the Problems of Democracy. 
 
 Henry C. Vedder, 1914. 
 
 6. The Christian Life in the Modern World. Francis G. 
 
 Peabody, 1914. 
 
 Questions 
 
 1. Why was religion socially important in past ages? 
 
 2. How did religion help in developing social consciousness? 
 
 3. What practical results followed from monotheism? 
 
 4. Why did practice lag behind theory? 
 
 5. Why has religion lost in social influence? 
 
 6. What is the essential character of official religion? Why? 
 
 7. Does the law of cause and effect apply to religion? 
 
REFERENCES AND QUESTIONS 321 
 
 CHAPTER X 
 References 
 
 1. United States Bureau of Labor Statistics. Bulletin 207. 
 
 2. Dangerous Trades. Thomas Oliver. 
 
 3. Unto This Last. John Ruskin. 
 
 4. Christianizing the Social Order. Walter Rauschenbusch, 
 
 1912; part VL 
 
 5. Work and Wealth. J. A. Hobson. 1914; chapters XVI 
 
 to XXL 
 
 6. Confidence or National Suicide. Arthur E. Stillwell, 1910. 
 
 7. The Six-Hour Day. Lord Leverhulme, 1919. 
 
 8. The Vested Interests. Thorstein Veblen, 1919. 
 
 9. Industrial Goodwill. John R. Commons, 1919. 
 
 Questions 
 
 1. Why is business so important in a civilized community? 
 
 2. How was a code of honor developed through feudalism? 
 
 3. Why is the social cost of production too high? 
 
 4. Can business become a profession? 
 
 5. What indications are there that Business is looking toward 
 
 service rather than profits? 
 
 6. How can it be shown that the financial claims of business- 
 
 men are extravagant? 
 
 7. Why would business as a profession reconcile capital and 
 
 labor? 
 
 8. How would labor be affected by this change? 
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 References 
 
 1. Inductive Sociology. Franklin H. Giddings, 1901; Book 
 
 II, parts L II. and IIL 
 
 2. The Soul of America. Stanton Coit, 1914; part I. 
 
 3. Progressive Democracy. Herbert Croly, 1914. 
 
 4. National Strength and International Duty. Theodore 
 
 Roosevelt, 1917. 
 
 5. The New State: Group Organization the Solution of 
 
 Popular Government. M. P. Follett, 1918. 
 
 6. Ireland, a Study in Nationalism. Francis Hackett, 1918. 
 
322 REFERENCES AND QUESTIONS 
 
 Questions 
 
 1. What are the bases of nationalism? 
 
 2. Why does nationalism tend toward exclusiveness? 
 
 3. Are small nations sacrosanct? 
 
 4. What are the mental traits of democratic nations? 
 
 5. Is forcible nationalization justifiable? 
 
 6. How can a nation justify its existence? 
 
 7. What kind of leaders must a nation have? 
 
 8. Why is art national? 
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 References 
 
 1. Newer Ideals of Peace. Jane Addams, 1907; chapters I 
 
 and VIII. 
 
 2. National Strength and International Duty. Theodore 
 
 Roosevelt, 1917. 
 
 3. The Two Hague Conferences. Joseph H. Choate. 
 
 4. The Ways to Lasting Peace. David Starr Jordan. 
 
 5. Our World. Josiah Strong, 1913 
 
 6. A League to Enforce Peace. Robert Goldsmith, 1917. 
 
 7. The League of Nations. Henry E. Jackson, 1919. 
 
 Questions 
 
 1. What international relations have there been in the past? 
 
 2. Why have these various attempts failed? 
 
 3. What attempts at internationalism has labor made? 
 
 4. Why have international movements based on science suc- 
 
 ceeded? 
 
 5. Do we need international intercourse? 
 
 6. What does the League ot^ Nations stand for? 
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 References 
 
 1. Unseen Empire. David Starr Jordan, 1912. 
 
 2. The Great Illusion. Norman Angell. 
 
 3. Toward International Government. J. A. Hobson. 
 
 4. The Valor of Ignorance. Homer Lea. 
 
REFERENCES AND QUESTIONS 323 
 
 5. Commerce and War. Alvin S. Johnson. 
 
 6. The Great Peace. H. H. Power, 1918. 
 
 7. The Biology of War. G. F. Nicolai, 1918. 
 
 Questions 
 
 1. What are the two general types of explanations of war? 
 
 2. Is the pressure of population a true explanation of war in 
 
 modern times? 
 
 3. Can a whole nation be inoculated with war-fever? 
 
 4. Why are democracies anti-militaristic? 
 
 5. What are the losses of the World War7 
 
 6. What risks does peace involve? 
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 References 
 
 1. The Physical Basis of Society. Carl KeHey, 1916; chap- 
 
 ters III and XI. 
 
 2. The Origins of Invention. O. T. Mason, 1895. 
 
 3. Agriculture in the Tropics. J. C. Willis, 1914. 
 
 4. The Theory of the Leisure Class. Thorstein Veblen, 1908. 
 
 5. Applied Sociology. Lester F. Ward, 1906; parts II and 
 
 IIL 
 
 6. Sociology. James A. Dealey, 1909; chapters III, XI and 
 
 XIL 
 
 Questions 
 
 1. Are wealth and culture opposites? Give reasons. 
 
 2. What it the road to true knowledge? 
 
 3. What relation exists between culture and democracy? 
 
 4. What does culture mean? 
 
 5. What is the relation between work and leisure? 
 
 6. How can we educate ourselves for a proper use of leisure? 
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 References 
 
 1. Education. H. Spencer, 1910. 
 
 2. Social Principles of Education. George H. Betts, 1912; 
 
 chapters VI, VIII, IX, X. 
 
324 REFERENCES AND QUESTIONS 
 
 3. Idealism in Education. H. H. Home, 1910. 
 
 4. Education for Social Efficiency. Irving King, 1913; chap- 
 
 ters I, II, XI, XII, XIII, XIV. 
 
 5. The New Democracy. Walter E. Weyl, 1912. 
 
 6. The Great Society. Graham Wallas, 1914; chapters XI. 
 
 XII, XIII. 
 
 Questions 
 
 1. Has education been individualistic? Why? 
 
 2. What is the aristocratic ideal in education? The demo- 
 
 cratic? 
 
 3. What is social service? 
 
 4. How can the social spirit be infused into subjects of study? 
 
 5. Why should patience and open-mindedness be especially 
 
 fostered? 
 
 6. Is the ideal Utopian or realizable? 
 
 7. What does the term social personality imply?