War is, first of all, a natural expression of the social life, resting primarily upon the fact of the existence, universally, of groups of individuals acting as units. But here cause and effect are lost in one another. Conflict cements the group, and the existence of the group, again, is the cause of conflict. War is an aspect of the social solidarity of the group acting under certain conditions, and these conditions are the presence of deep desires that can, in general, be satisfied only by the exertion of force on the part of communities acting as wholes.
These primitive motives and moods of war that we find in the nature of the social group itself, emerge finally in three aspects of the life of nations, and it is these aspects of the life of nations that appear to us as the causes of war. They are not separate and independent features of the social life, and it is in part only for the sake of convenience that they are sharply separated at all. They are all at bottom manifestations of the motive of power that runs through all history, and all the social and individual life. On one side this motive appears in moods and impulses that we called the "intoxication" moods and impulses. National honor was found to be another effect of it. The political motives of war are its concrete expression. These motives all together—all being but phases of a deep, powerful energy and purpose, are the source of the main movement in history out of which war comes. In this movement all the motives of the social life are always present and active at the same time. The good and the bad of national life are phases of a single purpose and are not two contrasted principles or moments. The past is always contained in the present.
War, then, is the result of certain motives which are fundamental to the group life. It is a natural form in which, given a certain degree of intelligence and of complexity of the social life, these motives express themselves. All the motives and forms of expression are present in germ at least from the beginning of the development of the social life. Considering the whole history of war we see that it is a part of a very complex movement in human society, and yet that no war appears to be the final term of a process of inexorable logic. Taking history as a whole, we see that the natural laws involved and the nature of the social consciousness make a state of war from time to time highly probable, but war is not a necessary consequence of any natural law. Nations are self-conscious personalities. Perhaps in the future they may change their ways, abandon voluntarily their desires, subject themselves to discipline, or deliberately invent a plan of international relations that will have the effect of eliminating war from their lives altogether.
It is always dangerous, but at the same time it is always tempting to try to explain national life, or all life and history, in terms of the individual and his experience. Once more, however, we may yield to that temptation and say that the world to-day is in a stage of development which has many traits that show its relation in some very significant ways to certain undeveloped conditions found in individuals, which in fact always appear as phases of the life of all individuals in some degree and form. Nations have acquired a high degree of subjectivism, partly on account of the geographical conditions under which they have lived, and the many barriers between nations due to difference of origin and of language, and the fundamental emotions of fear and jealousy which, as we have seen, play so large a part in the life and conduct of groups. Nations, however close to one another, have remained isolated in spirit; they have lacked both the initiative and the means for becoming definitely related to one another in purposive and sustained activities. Therefore all their relations have remained highly emotional, subjective, influenced by mysticism, filled with hatred and fear, hero worship and illusion. Nations have lacked both the power, and we might say, the organs, for externalizing their spirit. They have dreamed dreams and played plays, and followed their illusions of empire. Even their wars have not, until perhaps now, become wholly real and serious in a measure commensurate with their powers and resources. The present war more than any other, and more than any other event in history, represents an escape on the part of nations from their subjectivism, and a beginning, it may be, of the realization of a more mature, or shall we say more normal conception of the world. Nations have played at being great and have really produced but little true greatness. Now, let us say, their dream is over. We see that these nations can no longer play. Their wooden weapons have at last been turned to steel. They can fight no longer indeed without destroying one another. They must now live in practical and moral relations, give up their bright dreams of empire after the old heroic order, and be content to be imperial (if they are born to be imperial) by performing distinguished service in the world, by their own genius of leadership. There is work in the world for nations to do; there are empires of the spirit, it may be, greater than have yet been dreamed of in the nations' childish philosophies of life. The consciousness of nations contains, it may be, unsuspected powers, suppressed in the past by narrow nationalism, by fear, habit and convention. These powers may now, if ever, blossom forth; they have been wasted too long in patriotic feeling and in idle dreamery. They must now show what they can do in a practical world that will have no more of mere assertions.
The world stands to-day balanced between two ideals. Human spirit, the spirit of nations, is a free and plastic force; it is also a sum of motives and desires; but most fundamentally of all it is a growing, living, creative and personal spirit. It still clings to its luxuries of feeling, to its provincial life, it is still fascinated by its beautiful romance of empire. On the other hand we see the stirring of a new idea. A new world arises, less dramatic in its appeal than the old world, but a world appealing by its practical problems both to the will and to the intellect. Shall we yield to the fascination of the old romance and go back to our hero worship; or shall we be inspired now by this vision of a new and greater social order, create out of our own powers of imagination the forms this world must assume if it is to appeal to the deepest feelings of all peoples, and make this new world real by our own intelligence and determination?
We stand to-day at a dramatic moment in history; a more dramatic moment than when the victory itself hung in the balance. Perhaps our sense of responsibility for the future is an illusion; perhaps we are driven by an inexorable logic of history, and we do not after all choose what our world shall be. But certainly the sense of human power in the world has never been greater than now nor seemed better justified; nor, if we are deceived, has the reality ever been more out of harmony with the ambitions of man.