William James’s essay on the moral equivalents of war advocated conscription for peace of all youths, rich or poor, to do the hard, rough and disagreeable work—the labor of the mills, the coal, iron and other mines, the work of railroad building and transportation, to man the fishing fleets in December and the harvest fields in August, the digging of tunnels and foundations, the erection of the frames of skyscrapers, and the varied work of land reclamation and cultivation. This of course would have to be done under a system of State Socialism, as everybody is naturally looking for the easier jobs. But the plan would hardly work under the present system of individualism and freedom of choice in occupation and the pursuit of happiness. But one thing the State might do, in organizing its educational facilities, is to give more attention to and provide more facilities for a vocational education. There is a surplus in all communities of clerical labor and of people who are seeking to do what they call brainwork, rather than muscle work. But the need of the world is for strong muscle workers, for manual skill combined with intelligence. Our schools afford ample facilities for the acquirement of book education, and the importance of book education has been so magnified that the lighter tasks have come to be extensively regarded as in some way more genteel than the harder ones. Sentiment, however, is changing, as is shown by the fact that skilled mechanics as a rule command better pay and steadier employment than the mere clerical workers. Applied science and skill have come to occupy so important a place in our modern social life that the skilled manual worker is now the real aristocrat among workers. This trend in the distribution of tasks will do away with the need of drafting men for the hard work. The higher pay and the higher honor of such work will steadily draw the superior brawn and brain of our youth into what may be aptly called the manlier occupations.
THE UNCERTAINTY OF FUTURE EVENTS
The fact is recalled that Dr. David Starr Jordan, one of the most prominent of the pacifists who decry armament and preparedness, said in an article on “War and Waste,” published in 1913: “What shall we say of the Great War of Europe ever threatening, ever impending, and which never comes? We shall say that it will never come. Humanly speaking, it is impossible.”
Prophecy, by a mere mortal, is always exceedingly dangerous. We all hope, and we may firmly believe, that the United States will never be compelled to engage in another war, but to make a definite prediction that war will never come to us would be folly.
If war is ever to come, the question for this country to solve is, whether we shall prepare to meet it before it comes, or after it comes. Hudson Maxim, who has recently issued a large book to argue for preparedness, is seemingly quite hopeless that his advice will be taken. He says:
“Pacifism has ringed the nose of the American people and is leading them, blind and unknowing, to the slaughter. War is inevitable. It matters not that if this country could be roused, it might be saved. When it is impossible to vitalize the impulse necessary to the accomplishment of a thing, that thing is impossible. So I say, war is inevitable and imminent. The American people could not now be roused sufficiently to avert the impending calamity even by a call that would rift the sky and shake down the stars from heaven! Fate has decreed that our pride shall be humbled, and that we shall be bowed to the dirt. We must first put on sackcloth, ashed in the embers of our burning homes. Perhaps, when we build anew on the fire-blackened desolation, our mood may be receptive of the knowledge that we must shield our homes with blood and brawn and iron.”
Let us hope that this dismal prophecy will not be fulfilled. Let us hope that it is as wide of the mark as was Dr. Jordan’s prophecy that there would never be another great war in Europe. Yet if one is to play the prophet, it is better to prophecy evil things that put us on our guard, than smooth things that cause us to run heedlessly into danger.
Winston Churchill, the young English statesman, once began to raise a mustache, and while it was still in the budding stage he was asked at a dinner party to take out to dinner an English girl who had decided opposing political views.
“I am sorry,” said Mr. Churchill, “we can not agree on politics.”
“No, we can’t,” rejoined the girl, “for to be frank with you I like your politics about as little as I do your mustache.”