Evening star., 1933-11-05

How can man die better
Than facing fearful odds2'
/" -Qut procuI hinc.' the legends writ
The mountain grave lies far away.
"'Qui ante diem perlit,
"'Sed miles, sed pro patria!"
Admit War Is Futile.
Seen through the mists of emotion
which rise from these words. war be-
comes one long procession of academy
lictures-heroes galloping. sword in
hand; heroes with bandages around
their heads; heroes defending the
bridge. In modern warfare swords do
not leap from their scabbards" to any
extent. and the last words of COM
mander in chief, well back at the base,
are never Charge, Thompson. charge!
Or, jenkins. on!"
Yet subconsciously men are still
thinking of war as Of an infnitude OF
gallant hand-to hand combats in which
God, even if He does not always defend
the right, will at least insure for the
loser the consolation OF having died
fo- it.
have discussed war in the company
of such men. We begin so agreeably.
NV companion admits that war is hor-
rible, wasteful. futile. He would be as
ready as to abolish it-if only it were
possible. Why is it not possible? ask.
Perhaps he gives the answer which
should qualify him for any lunatic asy-
lum. however select. Perhaps he talks,
as so many of them have talked. OF
"the tiger and the ape in man and
saws, as so many of them have said,
You cannot change human nature"
I explain to him gently that the
whole of civilization is a fight against,
and a conquest Of Nature. I explain
that, in as far as human nature
means anything. it means animal ma
ture, and that in every nursery. in every
country, these natural instincts are
being changed into something reason
able and decent. I explain that. IN any
case, modern international war is not
cnly inhuman and unnatural. but offers
no animal satisfaction whatever; that 1t
would undoubtedly fail to give any sort
of thrill even to the most unexacting
tiger or the most supplemented ape
just up from the country.
Smiles at World State.
Perhaps he admits. grudgingly. that
this is so; perhaps he reveals tnat he
las no argument left to excuse war.
But it remains for him happily un-
abolishable. He smiles condescendlngly
a the League of Nations, he laughs at
the idea of a world state. he points out
the weaknesses land heaven knows they
are there to be pointed out) Of any
method of disarmament which Is sug-
gested, and one knows that in his
heart all the romantic sentimentalities
of war are being wistfully nursed into
life and that he Is thinking of a world
without war, from which, somehow. the
glory has departed. Only the gold
framed Forward, the Heavy Brigade!"
in the drawing room and the colored
supplement of The Thin Red Line" in
the cooks bed room to recall the good
cid days when men were men.
The combat deepens. On, ye brave!
DUlcet ct decorum est pro patrla morl.
And presumably pro patria occidere.
Our immortal dead killed and were
killed; a sweet and fitting way of earn
ing immortality. But. of course. one
must not kill for ones own good; nor
(as the First Murderer killed Banquo)
for the good of another. The beneficiary
must be state. not an individual. ms
ethical distinction is little difficult to
grasp and may easily elude the unwary
Admittedly, q state has no soul to be
saved, but neither has dog soul to
be saved, nor a foot ball club, nor
town council. nor a literary society
Yet if one shot the postman entirely
because ones dog disliked him, it is
doubtful If God would approve; nor
would He approve If the members Of
a foot ball club revenged themselves on
a team which had beaten them by in
viting it to dinner and serving arsenic
cocktails.
Taking Much for Granted.