Chapter II

And here we come to a strange and paradoxical thing. One of the first effects of this awakened intelligence is to raise a doubt as to whether the minds of nations are as intelligent as we thought them to be. For a long time past a kind of humanism has been current which took the form of an enthusiastic faith in the ‘march of mind’. Appearances seemed to warrant the belief that men, organized in modern societies, were becoming far more reasonable than their fathers. But look at this war! What comment does it suggest on the ‘march of mind’? Think not of this nation or of that, dismiss the question of whose diplomacy was right or wrong, and view the war as though it were, what indeed it is, a single action performed by civilization. What is our impression? Do we feel ourselves in presence of some masterpiece of wisdom? Speaking for myself, I can only say that the war, viewed as a single action, appears to be the kind of action that could only be performed by a fool. I cannot get away from the feeling that I am in the presence of some colossal stupidity. Since history began to record the deeds of men, has there ever been seen such an exhibition of limited intelligence? Who in his sane senses would do such a thing?

Just think what has happened. For generations past the general level of intelligence in Western Europe has been rising. The individual is better educated. Millions of these better educated individuals are combined into societies more or less democratic. But what has become of this vast aggregate of intelligence? Has it all gone into the common stock? Is it all employed for the common good? Does the intelligence of every citizen reinforce the intelligence of every other citizen, so that States become endowed with the sum total of all the wisdom in all of their members? Apparently not. Most of this intelligence seems to be wasted away in mutual criticism, in the war of minds, before the State can get possession of what remains. Does it not seem as though there were some process of inner opposition at work by which a multitude of minds will often neutralize each other’s intelligence; so that States, instead of being wiser than individuals, often perpetrate follies of which the least intelligent of their members would be heartily ashamed?

I am inclined to think, therefore, that we shall emerge from the war with a chastened confidence in the mere ‘march of mind’. We shall think more, we are already thinking more, of those other qualities, such as the plain sense of right and wrong, with which the march of mind needs to be blended before it can do its work. Many disillusions of this kind are on the way. There is a feeling abroad which is not quite articulate as yet, that the war has somehow brought us into contact with Reality, and that our ideas must be modified accordingly. ‘We are up against the real thing’ is a phrase you must often have heard. It is frequently used in soldiers’ letters written from the front; I have encountered it in sermons, political speeches, and newspaper articles, in conversations with working men; and in the comments of distinguished philosophers.

Now I will not attempt to define what the ‘real thing’ is. I am not quite sure that I know. But I think I can point out one of its characteristics. The ‘real thing’ as we are now feeling its presence is not a mere subject for _study_: it is something we have to _obey_. It is a command, a summons, a trumpet note. In ordinary times Reality shows us its _interesting_ side. Just now it is showing its _imperative_ side. In ordinary times we talk about it. Just now it is talking to us. I can almost imagine that Reality is paying off an old score it had against us. We had been writing philosophical essays about it, treating it as ‘our subject’, as though we had it in the hollow of our hand; and perhaps Reality was getting a little tired of hearing itself defined and discussed. Anyhow the real thing is no longer passive. It has become intensely active. It has given us a shock, it has roused us to our duty and put a constraint upon our wills. The consequence is that a good deal of nonsense is being knocked out of us. Let us hope it will not return! We were much too comfortable, much too complacent, much too selfish, before the war. And we were hardly prepared for so sudden a change of behaviour on the part of the real thing.