It is unimaginable that a more highly developed cultured humanity, in which both sexes have equal rights in the decisions of society, should uphold the institutions of war. A certain amount of compassion, of sensitive abhorrence of all that is hard and cruel, in a word—of noble humanity, must exist in the cultured community. Men console themselves with the thought that these qualities, so necessary to the existence and dignity of society, are furnished by the feminine sex, and maintain their right to hardness and roughness, a right which is most freely active in war. But when the woman rises to an equal level, must she also become a soldier, and shall she lay aside those virtues which are not compatible with the profession of arms? Shall all gentleness vanish out of the world? That is impossible. Therefore the woman must renounce equal rights. This she will never do; it is much simpler for the man to renounce the profession of arms.
The complete hideousness of unrestrained gross conduct, which passes as permissible and occasionally as quite delightful in the masculine sex, such as drinking, brawling and excess—the complete hideousness of this conduct is plainly visible when one imagines a woman given to such behavior. On the other hand, many weaknesses of character are counted as contemptible in men, and excusable, if not charming, in women—as cowardice, weakness of will, and thoughtlessness. Now, when woman lays aside these “lovely” faults, when she shows energy and self-confidence, some certainly praise her for her masculine character, but others at once give utterance to the fear that, with the laying aside of the feminine defects, the feminine virtues will also fall into abeyance. But that is not the case: both sexes must lay aside those faults which disgrace, and practise those virtues which ennoble, humanity.
And now, after protesting against my views being supposed to arise from a specifically feminine standpoint, I will say what I think about universal peace; but first, I should like to give a picture of universal war, as I see it[[1]] from the war of the future, so long prophesied and so splendidly prepared.
[1]. See my “Maschinenzeitalter.” III. Auflage. Pierson’s Verlag.
A war in which all the great military States of Europe took part would surpass all horrors that have hitherto taken place, in the same degree as the present weapons of destruction and those still to be invented surpass the club with which Cain may have slain his brother. In such a war an amount of murder and destruction and savagery would be contained, such as was not in a hundred battles of ancient times. The progress that has been made has not only increased the power of destruction a thousandfold, but also that which is to be destroyed has become a thousand times more valuable, and therefore the injury would be proportionately greater.
The accelerated, incalculable improvement and increase, the technical development that has grown to colossal dimensions, which leads to such fabulous results when directed to the increase of property and happiness, to what equally gigantic results of misery must these not lead, when applied to the principle of the destruction of property, happiness, and life: millions of combatants rush upon one another, and the fighting begins at ever greater distances. Instead of the spear, that only flew a short distance, instead of the later bullet that hit the enemy at a few hundred paces, the death-bringing bombs now whistle through space at a distance of miles; long before the two combatants can see each other the vanguard covers the field. But when and how will the decision take place? “Until one or the other side is so weakened that it gives up the fight.” That was in former times the answer to this question. Now both sides rage with equal force. The weakening keeps equal pace. Hundreds of thousands are fallen, but new hundreds of thousands advance, and the decision is not a step nearer. A vanquished, flying army? That exists no more, for no longer are mere armies sent forth, but whole nations. They fight with each other for the sake of a strip of land; but meanwhile the entire land is devastated, depopulated and ravaged on either side. All crops are trodden under foot, all labor suspended, all hearths desolated; one cry of pain from frontier to frontier, and still no decision. Every village a heap of ashes, every field a burial ground, and yet the fight still rages; under the waves of the sea shoot the torpedo boats, to sink mighty steamships; in the clouds rise armed and manned air-balloons against another aëronautic force, and from the height of a thousand feet mutilated warriors shower down in bleeding fragments; mines are sprung and bridges are hurled into the waves with their loads of men, horses and carriages; powder magazines fly into the air; long lines of trains run off the rails; hospitals blaze; and still it is not decided. Army, reserve, militia—the aged, children, women—one after the other is slaughtered; what still lives becomes the prey of famine, of the infallible pestilence, and the war is over. But it is not decided. The tremendous magnitude of the impending war—a magnitude which may be determined with mathematical certainty by reason of the present ever-increasing number of combatants and technique of weapons, might instil a certain admiration and satisfaction, if the love of and rage for fighting had increased in proportion to its means; if the value of human life had sunk in the esteem of the individual in the same degree as in the calculations of material by the administrators of armies; if finally the gain of war had increased as much as the inevitable losses. But the reverse of all this is the case. Hatred and love of fighting give place to civilization, growing gentler and constantly spreading; the value of life rises with the embellishments and alleviations afforded by daily advancing progress; and lastly, as regards the advantages of the final victory, a strip of land or a heap of fortress stones, or the absolutely illusory “Fame”—these things, powerless to enrich or to make happy, sink in an ever greater disparity to those sacrifices, increasing to the uttermost, which they render necessary.
So much for the approaching (or, it is to be hoped, not approaching) war. As regards universal peace, which may now not be so remote—for at the present time a conference is assembled in this name, called together by the most powerful military ruler in the world—people are by no means clear as to its foundations and aims. Most persons believe that members of Peace Societies imagine under the name of universal peace a condition of general harmony, a world without fighting or divisions, with undisputed frontiers settled for all time, and inhabited by angelic beings, overflowing with gentleness and love. It is an old custom of the enemies of any movement to represent it in a false light, to attribute absurdities to it which it has never asserted, and then to attack them with cheap sarcasm and obvious refutations. So also here. The friends of peace do not desire to found their kingdom on impossibilities, nor on conditions that might perhaps prevail thousands of years hence, but on the living present and living humanity. The avoidance of all disputes is not demanded—for that is impossible—but that the disputes should be settled henceforward by arbitration instead of by force, as was hitherto the case. This level of culture has already been attained by the individuals of organized states: that it should be attained also by the states themselves in their relations to each other, is the aim and object of the whole peace movement. Thereby one right would certainly be lost—a right which, although it bears the proud name of sovereignty, is in truth a great wrong; the right of one state to attack another. But if ten persons agree among themselves to desist from mutual attack, each exchanges one-tenth of his lost chance of plunder for nine-tenths of assured safety. Immutability of existing frontiers and social arrangements is demanded as little as the avoidance of disputes. For this, too, would be contrary to nature. Obstinacy, bearing the proud title of Conservatism, which opposes all natural alterations and displacements, is itself the cause of all forcible revolt. Just as in private life, the individual’s possessions are protected from robbery by a civilized commonwealth, but the possessor is not guaranteed for all time, and the poor are not prevented from gaining possessions. Rich and poor families grow or die out, increase or decrease in fortune; new groups are formed, drawn together by natural selection; a growing population must overflow the frontiers; forms of state belonging to a lower level of culture must be supplanted by the civilization of those culturally superior. Elasticity is the only quality which ensures peaceful duration or painless and imperceptible transition from one form to another. The world should remember this, now that it has learned the law of evolution, and knows that all life and development is the work of adaptation.
But to contemplate peace and war from a general standpoint is what philosophers and politicians have done from the earliest times. To work out plans and propositions, by which the ruling state of war may be replaced by the establishment of international justice, is a labor which has been carried on systematically for the last ten years by the various groups of the League of Peace, and the inter-parliamentary union. An entire literature already exists on this subject, and by consulting Dr. Evan Darby’s “International Tribunal”[[2]] and Dr. Benjamin Trueblood’s lately published work, “The Federation of the World,”[[3]] a complete knowledge of the ideal and practical aims may be gained, as also of the results already acquired.
[2]. London Peace Society, 47 New Broad Street.
[3]. Boston and New York, Houghton, Mifflin & Co., 1899.