The condition of Christian humanity, with its prisons, hard labour,
gallows, with its factories, accumulations of capital, with
its taxes, churches, saloons, houses of ill fame, ever growing
armaments, and millions of stupefied men, who are ready, like
chained dogs, to thrust themselves upon those the masters may set
them on, would be terrible if it were the product of violence,
whereas it is above all the product of public opinion. But what is
established by public opinion not only can be, but actually is,
destroyed by it.
Hundreds of millions in money, tens of millions of disciplined men,
implements of destruction of wonderful power, with an organization
which of late has been carried to the highest degree of perfection,
with a whole army of men whose calling it is to deceive and
hypnotize the masses, and all this, by means of electricity, which
annihilates space, subjected to men, who not only consider such a
structure of society to be advantageous for them, but even such
that without it they would inevitably perish, and who, therefore,
use every effort of their minds in order to maintain it,--what an
invincible force, one would think!
And yet, one needs but get a conception of what it all tends to and
what no one can keep back,--that among men there will be established
a Christian public opinion, with the same force and universality
as the pagan public opinion, and that it will take the place of
the pagan one, that the majority of men will be just as ashamed of
all participation in violence and its exploitation as men are now
ashamed of rascality, stealing, beggary, cowardice, and immediately
this complex and apparently powerful structure of life falls of its
own accord, without any struggle. It is not necessary for anything
new to enter into the consciousness of men, but only for the mist to
disappear, which conceals from men the true meaning of some acts of
violence, in order that this may happen and the growing Christian
public opinion should get the better of the obsolescent pagan public
opinion, which admitted and justified acts of violence. All that
is needed is that men should feel as much ashamed of doing acts of
violence, of taking part in them, and exploiting them, as it is now
a disgrace to pass for a rascal, a thief, a coward, a beggar. And it
is precisely this that is beginning to happen. We do not notice it,
just as men do not notice any motion, when they move together with
everything surrounding them.
It is true, the structure of life in its main features remains as
violent in nature as it was one hundred years ago, and not only the
same, but in some relations, especially in the preparations for war
and in the wars themselves, it appears to be even more cruel; but
the germinating Christian public opinion, which at a certain stage
of its development is to change the whole pagan structure of life,
is beginning to be active. The dried-up tree stands apparently as
firm as before,--it even looks firmer, because it is rougher,--but
it is already weakened at the pith and is getting ready to fall.
The same is true of the present structure of life, which is based
on violence. The external condition of men is the same: some are
the violators, as before, and others are the violated; but the view
of the violators and the violated upon the meaning and worth of the
position of either has changed.
The violating people, that is, those who take part in the
government, and those who make use of the violence, that is, the
rich, no longer represent, as formerly, the flower of society and
the ideal of human well-being and grandeur, toward which all the
violated used to strive. Now very frequently it is not so much the
violated who strive after the position of the violators and try to
imitate them, as the violators, who frequently of their own free
will renounce the advantages of their position, choose the condition
of the violated, and try in simplicity of life to emulate the
violated.
To say nothing of the now openly despised occupations and offices,
such as those of spies, agents of secret police, usurers,
saloon-keepers, a large number of occupations of violators,
which formerly used to be considered respectable, such as those
of policemen, courtiers, members of courts, the administration,
the clergy, the military, monopolists, bankers, not only are
not considered by all to be desirable, but are even condemned
by a certain most respectable circle of men. There are now men
who voluntarily renounce these positions, which heretofore were
considered to be above reproach, and who prefer less advantageous
positions, which are not connected with violence.
It is not only men of the state, but also rich men, who, not from a
religious feeling, as used to be the case, but only from a peculiar
sensitiveness for the germinating public opinion, refuse to receive
their inherited fortunes, considering it just to use only so much as
they earn by their own labour.
The conditions of the participant in the government and of the rich
man no longer present themselves, as they presented themselves
formerly and even now present themselves among the non-Christian
nations, as unquestionably honourable and worthy of respect and as
divine blessings. Very sensitive, moral men (they are for the most
part the most highly cultured) avoid these conditions and prefer
more modest ones, which are independent of violence.
The best young men, at an age when they are not yet corrupted
by life and when they choose a career, prefer the activities of
physicians, technologists, teachers, artists, writers, even simply
of agriculturists, who live by their own labour, to positions in
courts, in the administration, in the church, and in the army, which
are paid by the government, or the positions of men who live on
their own incomes.
The majority of monuments which are now erected are no longer in
commemoration of men of state, of generals, and less certainly not
of the rich, but of the learned, of artists, of inventors, of men
who have not only had nothing in common with the governments, or
with the authorities, but who frequently have struggled against
them. It is not so much men of state and rich men, as learned men
and artists, who are extolled in poetry, represented in plastic art,
and honoured with festive jubilees.
The best men of our time tend toward these most honoured positions,
and so the circle from which the men of state and the rich come is
growing smaller and smaller, so that in intellect, culture, and
especially in moral qualities, the men who now stand at the head of
governments, and the rich no longer represent, as in olden times,
the flower of society, but, on the contrary, stand below the average.
As in Russia and in Turkey, so in America and in France, no matter
how much the governments may change their officials, the majority
of them are selfish and venal men, who stand on so low a level of
morality that they do not satisfy even those low demands of simple
integrity which the governments make upon them. We now frequently
get to hear the naïve regrets of men of state, because the best men
by some strange accident, as they think, are always in the hostile
camp. It is as though men should complain that by a strange accident
it is always men with little refinement, who are not particularly
good, that become hangmen.
The majority of rich men, similarly, in our time are no longer
composed of the most refined and cultured men of society, as used
to be the case, but of coarse accumulators of wealth, who are
interested only in their enrichment, for the most part by dishonest
means, or of degenerating descendants of these accumulators, who not
only do not play any prominent part in society, but in the majority
of cases are subject to universal contempt.
Not only is the circle of men, from which the servants of the
government and the rich men are chosen, growing all the time
smaller and smaller, and more and more debased, but these men
themselves no longer ascribe to the positions which they hold their
former significance, and frequently, being ashamed of them, to
the disadvantage of the cause which they serve, neglect to carry
out what by their position they are called upon to do. Kings and
emperors have the management of hardly anything, hardly ever have
the courage to make internal changes and to enter into new external
political conditions, but for the most part leave the solution of
these questions to state institutions or to public opinion. All
their duties reduce themselves to being the representatives of state
unity and supremacy. But even this duty they are performing worse
and worse. The majority of them not only do not keep themselves
in their former inaccessible grandeur, but, on the contrary, are
becoming more and more democratized, and even keep low company,
throwing off their last external prestige, that is, violating
precisely what they are called upon to maintain.
The same takes place among the military. The military men of the
higher ranks, instead of encouraging the coarseness and cruelty of
the soldiers, which are necessary for their business, themselves
disseminate culture among the military, preach humanitarianism,
and frequently themselves share the socialistic convictions of
the masses, and reject war. In the late plots against the Russian
government, many of those mixed up with them were army men. The
number of these military plotters is growing larger and larger. Very
frequently it happens, as was the case lately, that the soldiers,
who are called upon to pacify the inhabitants, refuse to shoot at
them. Military bravado is directly condemned by army men themselves,
and frequently serves as a subject for ridicule.
The same is true of judges and prosecuting attorneys: judges,
whose duty it is to judge and sentence criminals, manage the
proceedings in such a way as to discharge them, so that the Russian
government, to have men sentenced that it wants to have sentenced,
never subjects them to common courts, but turns them over to
so-called military courts, which represent but a semblance of
courts. The same is true of prosecuting attorneys, who frequently
refuse to prosecute, and, instead of prosecuting, circumvent the
law, defending those whom they should prosecute. Learned jurists,
who are obliged to justify the violence of power, more and more
deny the right to punish, and in its place introduce theories of
irresponsibility, and even not of the correction, but of the cure of
those whom they call criminals.
Jailers and superintendents of hard-labour convicts for the most
part become defenders of those whom they are supposed to torture.
Gendarmes and spies constantly save those whom they are supposed to
ruin. Clerical persons preach toleration, often also the negation
of violence, and the more cultured among them try in their sermons
to avoid the lie which forms the whole meaning of their position
and which they are called upon to preach. Executioners refuse to
carry out their duties, so that in Russia capital punishment can
frequently not be carried out for want of executioners, since, in
spite of the advantages held out to make hard-labour convicts become
executioners, there is an ever decreasing number of such as are
willing to take up the duty. Governors, rural judges and officers,
collectors of taxes, publicans, pitying the people, frequently
try to find excuses for not collecting the taxes from them. Rich
men cannot make up their minds to use their wealth for themselves
alone, but distribute it for public purposes. Landowners erect on
their lands hospitals and schools, and some of them even renounce
the ownership of land and transfer it to the agriculturists, or
establish communes on it. Manufacturers build hospitals, schools,
houses for their workmen, and establish savings-banks and pensions;
some establish companies, in which they take an equal share with
other shareholders. Capitalists give part of their capital for
public, educational, artistic, philanthropic institutions. Unable to
part from their wealth during their lifetime, many of them will it
away after their death in favour of public institutions.
All these phenomena might appear accidental, if they did not all
reduce themselves to one common cause, just as it might seem
accidental that the buds should swell on some of the trees in
spring, if we did not know that the cause of it is the common
spring, and that, if the buds have begun to swell on some of the
trees, the same no doubt will happen with all of the trees.
The same is true in the manifestation of the Christian public
opinion as regards the significance of violence and of what is
based upon it. If this public opinion is already influencing some
very sensitive men, and causes them, each in his own business, to
renounce the privileges which violence grants, or not to use them,
it will continue to act on others, and will act until it will change
the whole activity of men and will bring them in agreement with that
Christian consciousness which is already living among the leading
men of humanity.
And if there now are rulers who do not have the courage to undertake
anything in the name of their own power, and who try as much as
possible to resemble, not monarchs, but the simplest mortals, and
who show their readiness to renounce their prerogatives and to
become the first citizens of their republics; and if there are now
army men who understand all the evil and sinfulness of war and do
not wish to shoot at men belonging to another nation, or to their
own; and judges and prosecuting attorneys, who do not wish to
prosecute and condemn criminals; and clergymen, who renounce their
lie; and publicans, who try as little as possible to perform what
they are called upon to perform; and rich men, who give up their
wealth,--the same will inevitably happen with other governments,
other army men, other members of the court, clergymen, publicans,
and rich men. And when there shall be no men to hold these
positions, there will be none of these positions and no violence.
But it is not by this road alone that public opinion leads men to
the abolition of the existing order and the substitution of another
for it. In proportion as the positions of violence become less and
less attractive, and there are fewer and fewer men willing to occupy
them, their uselessness becomes more and more apparent.
In the Christian world there are the same rulers and governments,
the same courts, the same publicans, the same clergy, the same rich
men, landowners, manufacturers, and capitalists, as before, but
there is an entirely different relation of men toward men and of the
men themselves toward their positions.
It is still the same rulers, the same meetings, and chases, and
feasts, and balls, and uniforms, and the same diplomats, and talks
about alliances and wars; the same parliaments, in which they
still discuss Eastern and African questions, and alliances, and
breaches of relations, and Home Rule, and an eight-hour day. And
the ministries give way to one another in the same way, and there
are the same speeches, the same incidents. But men who see how one
article in a newspaper changes the state of affairs more than
dozens of meetings of monarchs and sessions of parliaments, see more
and more clearly that it is not the meetings and rendezvous and the
discussions in the parliaments that guide the affairs of men, but
something independent of all this, which is not centred anywhere.
There are the same generals, and officers, and soldiers, and guns,
and fortresses, and parades, and manœuvres, but there has been
no war for a year, ten, twenty years, and, besides, one can depend
less on the military for the suppression of riots, and it is getting
clearer and clearer that, therefore, generals, and officers, and
soldiers are only members of festive processions,--objects of
amusement for rulers, large, rather expensive corps-de-ballet.
There are the same prosecutors and judges, and the same proceedings,
but it is getting clearer and clearer that, since civil cases are
decided on the basis of all kinds of considerations except that of
justice, and since criminal cases have no sense, because punishments
attain no purpose admitted even by the judges, these institutions
have no other significance than that of serving as a means for
supporting men who are not fit for anything more useful.
There are the same clergymen, and bishops, and churches, and
synods, but it is becoming clearer and clearer to all men that
these men have long ago ceased to believe in what they preach, and
that, therefore, they cannot convince any one of the necessity of
believing in what they themselves do not believe.
There are the same collectors of taxes, but they are becoming less
and less capable of taking away by force people's property, and it
is becoming clearer and clearer that people can without collectors
of taxes collect all that is necessary by subscribing it voluntarily.
There are the same rich men, but it is becoming clearer and clearer
that they can be useful only in proportion as they cease to be
personal managers of their wealth and give to society all, or at
least a part, of their fortunes.
When all this shall become completely clear to all, it will be
natural for men to ask themselves, "But why should we feed and
maintain all these kings, emperors, presidents, and members of all
kinds of Chambers and ministries, if nothing results from all their
meetings and discussions? Would it not be better, as some jester
said, to make a queen out of rubber?"
"And what good to us are the armies, with their generals, and music,
and cavalry, and drums? What good are they when there is no war
and no one wants to conquer any one, and when, even if there is a
war, the other nations do not let us profit from it, and the troops
refuse to shoot at their own people?"
"And what good are judges and prosecutors who in civil cases do not
decide according to justice and in criminal cases know themselves
that all punishments are useless?"
"And of what use are collectors of taxes who unwillingly collect the
taxes, while what is needed is collected without them?"
"And of what use is the clergy, which has long ago ceased to believe
in what it preaches?"
"And of what use is capital in private hands, when it can be of use
only by becoming the common possession?"
And having once asked themselves this, people cannot help but come
to the conclusion that they ought not to support all these useless
institutions.
But not only will the men who support these institutions arrive at
the necessity of abolishing them,--the men themselves who occupy
these positions will simultaneously or even earlier be brought to
the necessity of giving up their positions.
Public opinion more and more condemns violence, and so men, more
and more submitting to public opinion, are less and less desirous
of holding their positions, which are maintained by violence, and
those who hold these positions are less and less able to make use of
violence.
But by not using violence, and yet remaining in positions which are
conditioned by violence, the men who occupy these positions become
more and more useless. And this uselessness, which is more and
more felt by those who maintain these positions and by those who
hold them, will finally be such that there will be found no men to
maintain them and none who would be willing to hold them.
Once I was present in Moscow at some discussions about faith, which,
as usual, took place during Quasimodo week near a church in Hunter's
Row. About twenty men were gathered on the sidewalk, and a serious
discussion on religion was going on. At the same time there was
some kind of a concert in the adjoining building of the Assembly
of Noblemen, and an officer of police, noticing a crowd of people
gathered near the church, sent a mounted gendarme to order them to
disperse. The officer had personally no desire that they should
disperse. The crowd of twenty men were in nobody's way, but the
officer had been standing there the whole morning, and he had to do
something. The gendarme, a young lad, with his right arm jauntily
akimbo and clattering sword, rode up to us and shouted commandingly,
"Scatter! What are you doing there?" Everybody looked at the
gendarme, and one of the speakers, a modest man in a long coat, said
calmly and kindly: "We are talking about something important, and
there is no reason why we should scatter. Young man, you had better
get down and listen to what we are talking about,--it will do you
good," and turning away, he continued his discourse. The gendarme
made no reply, wheeled his horse around, and rode off.
The same thing must happen in all matters of violence. The officer
feels ennui, he has nothing to do; the poor fellow is placed in a
position where he must command. He is deprived of all human life,
and all he can do is to look and command, to command and look,
though his commands and his watching are of no earthly use. In
such a condition all those unfortunate rulers, ministers, members
of parliaments, governors, generals, officers, bishops, clergymen,
even rich men are now partly and soon will be completely. They
can do nothing else but command, and they command and send their
messengers, as the officer sends his gendarme, to be in people's
way, and since the people whom they trouble turn to them with
the request that they be left alone, they imagine that they are
indispensable.
But the time is coming, and will soon be here, when it shall be
quite clear for all men that they are not any good and are only in
the way of people, and the people whom they bother will say to them
kindly and meekly, as that man in the long overcoat, "Please, do not
bother us." And all the messengers and senders will have to follow
that good advice, that is, stop riding with arms akimbo among the
people, bothering them, and get down from their hobbies, take off
their attire, listen to what people have to say, and, joining them,
take hold with them of the true human work.
The time is coming, and will inevitably come, when all the
institutions of violence of our time will be destroyed in
consequence of their too obvious uselessness, silliness, and even
indecency.
The time must come, when with the men of our world, who hold
positions that are given by violence, will happen what happened with
the king in Andersen's fable, "The New Royal Garment," when a small
child, seeing the naked king, naïvely called out, "Behold, he is
naked!" and all those who had seen it before, but had not expressed
it, could no longer conceal it.
The point of the fable is this, that to the king, a lover of new
garments, there come some tailors who promise to make him an
extraordinary garment. The king hires the tailors, and they begin to
sew, having informed him that the peculiarity of their garment is
this, that he who is useless in his office cannot see the garments.
The courtiers come to see the work of the tailors, but they see
nothing, as the tailors stick their needles into empty space. But,
mindful of the condition, all the courtiers say that they see the
garment, and they praise it. The king does the same. The time
arrives for the procession, when the king is to appear in his new
garment. The king undresses himself and puts on his new garments,
that is, he remains naked, and goes naked through the city. But,
mindful of the condition, no one dares to say that there are no
garments, until a small child calls out, "Behold, he is naked!"
The same thing must happen with all those who from inertia hold
offices which have long ago become useless, when the first man who
is not interested (as the proverb has it, "One hand washes the
other"), in concealing the uselessness of these institutions, will
point out their uselessness and will naïvely call out, "But, good
people, they have long ago ceased to be good for anything."
The condition of Christian humanity, with its fortresses, guns,
dynamite, cannon, torpedoes, prisons, gallows, churches, factories,
custom-houses, palaces, is indeed terrible; but neither fortresses,
nor cannon, nor guns shoot themselves at any one, prisons do not
themselves lock any one up, the gallows does not hang any one, the
churches do not of themselves deceive any one, the custom-houses
hold no one back, palaces and factories do not erect and maintain
themselves, but everything is done by men. But when men understand
that this ought not to be done, there will be none of these things.
Men are already beginning to understand this. If not all men
understand it as yet, the leaders among men do, those after whom
follow all other men. And what the leaders have once come to
understand, they can never stop understanding, and what the leaders
have come to understand, all other men not only can, but inevitably
must understand.
Thus the prediction that the time will come when all men shall be
instructed by God, shall stop warring, shall forge the swords into
ploughshares and the spears into pruning-hooks, that is, translating
into our language, when all the prisons, fortresses, barracks,
palaces, churches, shall remain empty, and all the gallows, guns,
cannon, shall remain unused, is no longer a dream, but a definite,
new form of life, toward which humanity is moving with ever
increasing rapidity.
But when shall this be?
Eighteen hundred years ago Christ answered this question by saying
that the end of the present world, that is, of the pagan structure
of the world, would come when the calamities of men should be
increased to their farthest limit and at the same time the gospel of
the kingdom of God, that is, the possibility of a new, violenceless
structure of the world, should be preached in all the world (Matt.
xxiv. 3-28).
"But of that day and hour knoweth no man, but my Father only" (Matt.
xxiv. 36), is what Christ says, for it may come any time, at any
moment, even when we do not expect it.
In reply to the question when this hour shall arrive, Christ says
that we cannot know it; but for the very reason that we do not know
the time of its coming, we should not only be at all times prepared
to meet it, as must be the goodman watching the house, and the
virgins with their lamps going forth to meet the bridegroom, but
also we should work with all our strength for the coming of that
hour, as the servants had to work for the talents given to them
(Matt. xxiv. 43; xxv. 1-30). In reply to the question when this
hour should come, Christ admonished all men to work with all their
strength for its quicker coming.
There can be no other answer. People can nowise know when the day
and the hour of the kingdom of God shall arrive, because the coming
of that hour depends on no one but the men themselves.
The answer is the same as that of the sage, who in reply to the
question of a passer-by, how far it was to the city, answered, "Go."
How can we know how far it is to the goal toward which humanity
is moving, since we do not know how humanity, on whom it depends
whether to go or not, to stop, to temper the motion, or to
accelerate it, will move toward that goal?
All we can know is, what we, who compose humanity, must do, and what
not, in order that the kingdom of God may come. That we all know.
And every one need but begin to do what we must do, and stop doing
what we must not do; every one of us need only live by all that
light which is within us, in order that the promised kingdom of God,
toward which the heart of every man is drawn, may come at once.