Chapter I: The 'impossibility of War' Myth

It will illustrate certain difficulties which have marked--and mark--the presentation of the argument of this book, if the reader will consider for a few minutes the justice of certain charges which have been brought against _The Great Illusion_. Perhaps the commonest is that it argued that 'war had become impossible.' The truth of that charge at least can very easily be tested. The first page of that book, the preface, referring to the thesis it proposed to set out, has these words: 'the argument is _not_ that war is impossible, but that it is futile.' The next page but one describes what the author believes to be the main forces at work in international politics: a fierce struggle for preponderant power 'based on the universal assumption that a nation, in order to find outlets for expanding population and increasing industry, or simply to ensure the best conditions possible for its people, is necessarily pushed to territorial expansion and the exercise of political force against others ... that nations being competing units, advantage, in the last resort, goes to the possessor of preponderant military force, the weaker going to the wall, as in the other forms of the struggle for life.' A whole chapter is devoted to the evidence which goes to show that this aggressive and warlike philosophy was indeed the great actuating force in European politics. The first two paragraphs of the first chapter forecast the likelihood of an Anglo-German explosion; that chapter goes on to declare that the pacifist effort then current was evidently making no headway at all against the tendencies towards rivalry and conflict. In the third chapter the ideas underlying those tendencies are described as 'so profoundly mischievous,' and so 'desperately dangerous,' as to threaten civilisation itself. A chapter is devoted to showing that the fallacy and folly of those all but universal ideas was no guarantee at all that the nations would not act upon them. (Particularly is the author insistent on the fact that the futility of war will never in itself suffice to stop war. The folly of a given course of action will only be a deterrent to the degree to which men realise its folly. That was why the book was written.) A warning is uttered against any reliance upon the Hague Conferences, which, it is explained at length, are likely to be quite ineffective against the momentum of the motives of aggression. A warning is uttered towards the close of the book against any reduction of British armaments, accompanied, however, by the warning that mere increase of armaments unaccompanied by change of policy, a Political Reformation in the direction of internationalism, will provoke the very catastrophe it is their object to avoid; only by that change of policy could we take a real step towards peace 'instead of _a step towards war, to which the mere piling up of armaments, unchecked by any other factor, must in the end inevitably lead_.'[97]

The last paragraph of the book asks the reader which of two courses we are to follow: a determined effort towards placing European policy on a new basis, or a drift along the current of old instincts and ideas, a course which would condemn us to the waste of mountains of treasure and the spilling of oceans of blood.

Yet, it is probably true to say that, of the casual newspaper references (as distinct from reviews) made during the last ten years to the book just described, four out of five are to the effect that its author said 'war was impossible because it did not pay.'

The following are some passages referred to in the above summary:--

'Not the facts, but men's opinions about the facts is what matters.
This is because men's conduct is determined, not necessarily by the
right conclusion from facts, but the conclusion they believe to be
right.... As long as Europe is dominated by the old beliefs, those
beliefs will have virtually the same effect in politics as though
they were intrinsically sound.'--(p. 327.)

'It is evident that so long as the misconception we are dealing
with is all but universal in Europe, so long as the nations believe
that in some way the military and political subjugation of others
will bring with it a tangible material advantage to the conqueror,
we all do, in fact, stand in danger from such aggression. Not his
interest, but what he deems to be his interest, will furnish the
real motive of our prospective enemy's action. And as the illusion
with which we are dealing does, indeed, dominate all those minds
most active in European politics, we must, while this remains the
case, regard an aggression, even such as that which Mr Harrison
foresees, as within the bounds of practical politics.... On this
ground alone I deem that we or any other nation are justified in
taking means of self-defence to prevent such aggression. This is
not, therefore, a plea for disarmament irrespective of the action
of other nations. So long as current political philosophy in Europe
remains what it is, I would not urge the reduction of our war
budget by a single sovereign.'--(p. 329.)

'The need for defence arises from the existence of a motive for
attack.... That motive is, consequently, part of the problem of
defence.... Since as between the European peoples we are dealing
with in this matter, one party is as able in the long run to pile
up armaments as the other, we cannot get nearer to solution by
armaments alone; we must get at the original provoking cause--the
motive making for aggression.... If that motive results from a
true judgment of the facts; if the determining factor in a nation's
well-being and progress is really its power to obtain by force
advantage over others, the present situation of armament rivalry
tempered by war is a natural and inevitable one.... If, however,
the view is a false one, our progress towards solution will be
marked by the extent to which the error becomes generally
recognised in European public opinion.'--(p. 337.)

'In this matter it seems fatally easy to secure either one of two
kinds of action: that of the "practical man" who limits his
energies to securing a policy which will perfect the machinery of
war and disregard anything else; or that of the Pacifist, who,
persuaded of the brutality or immorality of war, is apt to
deprecate effort directed at self-defence. What is needed is the
type of activity which will include both halves of the problem:
provision for education, for a Political Reformation in this
matter, _as well as_ such means of defence as will meantime
counterbalance the existing impulse to aggression. To concentrate
on either half to the exclusion of the other half is to render the
whole problem insoluble.'--(p. 330.)

'Never has the contest of armament been so keen as when Europe
began to indulge in Peace Conferences. Speaking roughly and
generally, the era of great armament expansion dates from the first
Hague Conference. The reader who has appreciated the emphasis laid
in the preceding pages on working through the reform of ideas will
not feel much astonishment at the failure of efforts such as these.
The Hague Conferences represented an attempt, not to work through
the reform of ideas, but to modify by mechanical means the
political machinery of Europe, without reference to the ideas which
had brought it into existence.

'Arbitration treaties, Hague Conferences, International Federation,
involve a new conception of relationship between nations. But the
ideals--political, economical, and social--on which the old
conceptions are based, our terminology, our political literature,
our old habits of thought, diplomatic inertia, which all combine to
perpetuate the old notions, have been left serenely undisturbed.
And surprise is expressed that such schemes do not succeed.'--(p.
350.)

Very soon after the appearance of the book, I find I am shouting myself hoarse in the Press against this monstrous 'impossibility of war' foolishness. An article in the _Daily Mail_ of September 15th, 1911, begins thus:--

' ... One learns, with some surprise, that the very simple facts to
which I have now for some years been trying to draw the attention
they deserve, teach that:--

1. War is now impossible.

2. War would ruin both the victor and the vanquished.

3. War would leave the victor worse off than the vanquished.

'May I say with every possible emphasis that nothing I have ever
written justifies any one of these conclusions.

'I have always, on the contrary, urged that:--

(1) War is, unhappily, quite possible, and, in the prevailing
condition of ignorance concerning certain elementary
politico-economic facts, even likely.

(2) There is nothing to justify the conclusion that war would
"ruin" both victor and vanquished. Indeed, I do not quite know what
the "ruin" of a nation means.

(3) While in the past the vanquished has often profited more by
defeat than he could possibly have done by victory, it is no
necessary result, and we are safest in assuming that the vanquished
will suffer most.'

Nearly two years later I find myself still engaged in the same task. Here is a letter to the _Saturday Review_ (March 8th, 1913):--

'You are good enough to say that I am "one of the very few
advocates of peace at any price who is not altogether an ass." And
yet you also state that I have been on a mission "to persuade the
German people that war in the twentieth century is impossible." If
I had ever tried to teach anybody such sorry rubbish I should be
altogether an unmitigated ass. I have never, of course, nor so far
as I am aware, has any one ever said that war was impossible.
Personally, not only do I regard war as possible, but extremely
likely. What I have been preaching in Germany is that it is
impossible for Germany to benefit by war, especially a war against
us; and that, of course, is quite a different matter.'

It is true that if the argument of the book as a whole pointed to the conclusion that war was 'impossible,' it would be beside the point to quote passages repudiating that conclusion. They might merely prove the inconsequence of the author's thought. But the book, and the whole effort of which it was a part, would have had no _raison d'être_ if the author had believed war unlikely or impossible. It was a systematic attack on certain political ideas which the author declared were dominant in international politics. If he had supposed those powerful ideas were making _not_ for war, but for peace, why as a pacifist should he be at such pains to change them? And if he thought those war-provoking ideas which he attacked were not likely to be put into effect, why, in that case either, should he bother at all? Why, for that matter, should a man who thought war impossible engage in not too popular propaganda against war--against something which could not occur?

A moment's real reflection on the part of those responsible for this description of _The Great Illusion_, should have convinced them that it could not be a true one.

I have taken the trouble to go through some of the more serious criticisms of the book to see whether this extraordinary confusion was created in the mind of those who actually read the book instead of reading about it. So far as I know, not a single serious critic has come to a conclusion that agrees with the 'popular' verdict. Several going to the book after the War, seem to express surprise at the absence of any such conclusion. Professor Lindsay writes:--

'Let us begin by disposing of one obvious criticism of the
doctrines of _The Great Illusion_ which the out-break of war has
suggested. Mr Angell never contended that war was impossible,
though he did contend that it must always be futile. He insisted
that the futility of war would not make war impossible or armament
unnecessary until all nations recognised its futility. So long as
men held that nations could advance their interests by war, so long
war would last. His moral was that we should fight militarism,
whether in Germany or in our own country, as one ought to fight an
idea with better ideas. He further pointed out that though it is
pleasanter to attack the wrong ideals held by foreigners, it is
more effective to attack the wrong ideals held in our own
country.... The pacifist hope was that the outbreak of a European
war, which was recognised as quite possible, might be delayed
until, with the progress of pacifist doctrine, war became
impossible. That hope has been tragically frustrated, but if the
doctrines of pacifism are convincing and irrefutable, it was not in
itself a vain hope. Time was the only thing it asked of fortune,
and time was denied it.'

Another post-war critic--on the other side of the Atlantic--writes:--

'Mr. Angell has received too much solace from the unwisdom of his
critics. Those who have denounced him most vehemently are those who
patently have not read his books. For example, he cannot properly
be classed, as frequently asserted in recent months, as one of
those Utopian pacifists who went about proclaiming war impossible.
A number of passages in _The Great Illusion_ show him fully alive
to the danger of the present collapse; indeed, from the narrower
view of politics his book was one of the several fruitless attempts
to check that growing estrangement between England and Germany
whose sinister menace far-sighted men discerned. Even less
justifiable are the flippant sneers which discard his argument as
mercenary or sordid. Mr Angell has never taken an "account book" or
"breeches pocket" view of war. He inveighs against what he terms
its political and moral futilities as earnestly as against its
economic futility.'

It may be said that there must be some cause for so persistent a misrepresentation. There is. Its cause is that obstinate and deep-seated fatalism which is so large a part of the prevailing attitude to war and against which the book under consideration was a protest. Take it as an axiom that war comes upon us as an outside force, like the rain or the earthquake, and not as something that we can influence, and a man who 'does not believe in war,' must be a person who believes that war is not coming;[98] that men are naturally peaceable. To be a Pacifist because one believes that the danger of war is very great indeed, or because one believes men to be naturally extremely prone to war, is a position incomprehensible until we have rid our minds of the fatalism which regards war as an 'inevitable' result of uncontrollable forces.

What is a writer to do, however, in the face of persistent misrepresentation such as this? If he were a manufacturer of soap and some one said his soap was underweight, or he were a grocer and some one said his sugar was half sand, he could of course obtain enormous damages. But a mere writer, having given some years of his life to the study of the most important problem of his time, is quite helpless when a tired headline writer, or a journalist indulging his resentment, or what he thinks is likely to be the resentment of his readers, describes a book as proclaiming one thing when as a matter of simple fact it proclaims the exact contrary.

* * * * *

So much for myth or misrepresentation No. 1. We come to a second, namely, that _The Great Illusion_ is an appeal to avarice; that it urges men not to defend their country 'because to do so does not pay;' that it would have us place 'pocket before patriotism,' a view reflected in Benjamin Kidd's last book, pages of which are devoted to the condemnation of the 'degeneracy and futility' of resting the cause of peace on no higher ground than that it is 'a great illusion to believe that a national policy founded on war can be a profitable policy for any people in the long run.'[99] He quotes approvingly Sir William Robertson Nicoll for denouncing those who condemn war because 'it would postpone the blessed hour of tranquil money getting.'[100] As a means of obscuring truths which it is important to realise, of creating by misrepresentation a moral repulsion to a thesis, and thus depriving it of consideration, this second line of attack is even more important than the first.

To say of a book that it prophesied 'the impossibility of war,' is to imply that it is mere silly rubbish, and its author a fool. Sir William Robertson Nicoll's phrase would of course imply that its doctrine was morally contemptible.

The reader must judge, after considering dispassionately what follows, whether this second description is any truer than the first.