It is not yet sufficiently realised, even by the supporters of

Proportional Representation, that a country which returns men because

they are distinctive and significant to its Legislature--and that is

what the adoption of Proportional Representation means--will need an

assembly of a different size and type from the present clumsy crowd

of notables and nobodies at Westminster. There are too many members

of Parliament at Westminster for efficiency, just as there are too

many Congressmen at Washington. They loaf about. They do mischief in

obscurity. They make trouble in order to realise their own existence.

They are to public affairs what excessive fat is to the body of a man.

These big legislative bodies date from a time when group psychology

was not thought of. It is even possible that a big legislative body

elected by Proportional Representation would be a worse evil even

than the party house. Released from the party ties that control them,

bunched into fluctuating groups, the scores and hundreds of unnecessary

members would obstruct and confuse every legislative proposal.

Proportional Representation must mean not only the suppression of the

hack politician, but also the suppression of the commonplace member.

For efficient government we want a Legislature no larger than is

fairly representative of the broad varieties of public opinion. At the

largest we need only from two hundred to three hundred members, a grand

committee of the nation, appointing Ministers severally, assigning

tasks to sub-committees, and expressing the general ideas of the

country. We shall certainly be able to dispense with the rotation of

the “ins and outs” and possibly with the organised Cabinet in such a

Legislature. The adoption of Proportional Representation will be a much

profounder and more revolutionary change than a mere change in voting

procedure. It will necessitate an entirely new type of representative

government. In that lies its importance in the world’s affairs and its

fascination and desirability for most intelligent people.

XL

THE SERFDOM OF IGNORANCE: THE RIGHT OF WOMEN TO KNOWLEDGE

7.6.24

The British Labour movement is being agitated at present by one of the

most important questions in the world, the question whether a woman

has a right to clear and complete knowledge about her own body and the

fundamental facts of her life. It is a searching and dividing question

that may very well split the party into two discordant sections. The

old-fashioned politicians who haven’t yet observed that women have now

got votes, consider the question ought to be left outside politics.

It is too real a question for the old parliamentary game. What would

the grand Old Man have said about it? The Elder Spinsters of the

Labour movement also rally to the protection of Mr. Ramsay MacDonald’s

gentility, his fine old-fashioned statesmanlike evasiveness. But the

Labour Women’s Conference carried a resolution against the blushingly

tactful Elder Spinsters. These younger women believe that women really

are responsible citizens, that democracy does mean treating adults with

respect instead of concealing anything that matters most to them from

them; that women ought to know what marriage means for them and how

motherhood may be undertaken or declined before diseases and children

and such-like intense and overwhelming things blot out their youth and

health.

The demand the younger, more intelligent women in the Labour movement

are making is that knowledge should be freely, easily, and honourably

accessible to all British women. It is well to get this precisely

clear. No one purposes to force this knowledge upon anyone. That

typical political artful dodger, Mr. Wheatley, the Labour Minister of

Health, pretends obstinately that that is so. But no woman who likes to

be coyly ignorant, and to be overtaken by illness and offspring before

she understands anything about them, need seek such knowledge. All

that the innovators ask is that it should be there available for those

women who want to know what they may do and what they can do with their

lives, who want to go into motherhood or refuse or delay going into

motherhood with their eyes open. Personally, I think that innocence

is a charm confined to immaturity, and that every adult of eighteen

ought to know clearly all that is of vital importance to conduct in

married life before marriage, but in this I go far beyond the modest

ambitions of the advanced section of the Labour Party. They want this

knowledge to be available only to the married. They want the medical

men engaged at such public institutions as child-welfare centres and

the like to be free--subject only to their interpretation of their

professional honour--to give such information as may be asked for upon

these matters. They want doctors in receipt of public money to have the

same liberty of advice that every doctor feed by an upper-class woman

has. They do not want poor women living in crowded homes to be obliged

to bear offspring just as cows bear offspring, whether they want to or

not, out of sheer ignorance and helplessness.

Mr. Wheatley says, as his excuse for refusing this liberation of

knowledge, that Roman Catholic voters will object to paying rates

and taxes if this sort of use is made of public money. The Roman

Catholic is to decide what the poor Protestant woman shall know and

do. This is a pretty impudent claim for a religion that was formerly

disenfranchised. But the whole Labour Party in Parliament cringes at

the thought of the Roman Catholic vote. As a matter of fact, there is

nothing in sound Roman Catholic teaching to forbid the diffusion of

physiological knowledge. There is nothing, indeed, in proper Roman

Catholic teaching to prohibit the practice of birth-control under any

circumstances. At any time the Vatican might commend birth-control;

it is not committed in the least in that respect. But a great number

of priests, like our Labour Elder Spinsters, betray an extreme

excitability and malignity at the thought of any sexual life that

is not mainly frustrated desire. They commit the extreme sin of

presumption, they invent teachings quite unsanctioned by the Church to

excuse the impulses of their own troubled and unhappy thoughts. And it

is of the back-street priest and not of the eternal Church that Mr.

Wheatley and his Labour colleagues as pushing politicians have chiefly

to think.

Now let the reader note that in this paper I have said not a word for

or against the practices known as birth-control nor about anticipatory

sexual hygiene. I have my own very definite opinions on these matters,

but the question under discussion here is not what should or may

be done, but about _what may be known_. It is the far profounder

question of whether common poor people are to be treated as worthy of

understanding and knowing about the things that concern their most

intimate lives, or whether in the interests of cheap labour, the Roman

Catholic, population statistics, army recruiting, racial jealousy, or

out of regard to the unpleasant feelings and imaginations of priests

and elderly spinsters, they are to be left and imprisoned in black

ignorance even when they want to know. Here I find in myself a streak

of surprisingly passionate democracy. I hold that every man and woman

should be the conscious and instructed master of his or her own fate.

It is amazing, it is dismaying, to find a Labour Minister as ready

to consider the common people a breeding herd of human beasts and as

ready to keep them helplessly in the dark as the extremist Tory could

be. I am convinced that even as a politician he has blundered. When

women fought for votes they fought for a symbol; the reality was the

possession of themselves. And that is impossible without this, if not

forbidden, at least impeded knowledge.

Most politicians have still to learn the significance of the women’s

vote. Because one or two pretty ladies on the Labour side have lost

their heads, adorned themselves in trains and ostrich feathers, given

themselves over to the photographers and interviewers and succumbed to

the delightful temptation of patronising the Queen, it does not follow

that the mass of Labour women are not intensely sane and realist.

Sexual questions are coming into politics, and they are coming to stay.

Before the next election every parliamentary candidate will have to

make up his mind whether he stands for knowledge or ignorance in this

matter.

XLI

BLINKERS FOR FREE YOUTH: YOUNG AMERICA ASKS TO HEAR AND SEE

14.6.24

A sure way to madden Americans is to make comparisons between education

in the United States and in Western Europe. Even if the comparison

is flattering it leaves them mad. Apparently belief in the superior

education of the American citizen is becoming as sacred as belief in

the American constitution. Doubt is prohibited. Visitors to the United

States may presently have to sign a form about it.

Hitherto with an extraordinary discretion I have avoided, or at least

skirted, this sensitive point. I propose to continue to skirt it. There

has been one exception. I touched upon the sore place a little while

ago in a book called _The Dream_, and my mail from America came for

some weeks bristling with an unwonted and distressing hostility. I gave

an account of the elementary school teaching of England--it is much the

same stuff, more or less, in most civilised countries--as I think it

will appear to an observer a few centuries ahead. I added casually that

on the whole the American rural school was worse than the English one

I described. To the best of my knowledge and belief it is worse. In

many parts of the United States the elementary education is far below

the Western European level, the consequent illiteracy is shocking, and

I should not be doing my duty as a writer for the English-speaking

public if I did not say so. I was not thinking so much of new districts

inhabited by fresh immigrants, but of old, native-born American

regions, like Kentucky. The United States is abnormally slack about

its elementary education, and needs plain, stimulating speech in the

matter. But the Americans are in a state of irritable self-satisfaction

about their schools. They are refusing almost violently to know that

their general education has not kept pace with their enormous increase

in wealth and material civilisation. Morally, if not legally, I am

as much a citizen of the United States of America as of the British

Empire; mentally the American and British worlds are two hemispheres of

one brain; I cannot think of them functioning independently, and it is

just as much my business to discuss this American slackness as it is to

reprove the frightful negligences of the British in respect to Indian

education.

This, however, is in parenthesis. It is merely to emphasise the

fact that in this article I am instituting no comparisons at all. I

am taking a text from an American instance; that is all. There has

been a little tiff between the undergraduates and the authorities of

Harvard, and I find it extremely suggestive. The brighter of the

Harvard undergraduates, represented on the governing board of the

Harvard Union by Mr. Corliss Lamont, want to hear about Radicalism and

Communism at first hand from people like Mr. Debs and Mr. W. Z. Foster,

and the authorities are suppressing these youthful aspirations. They

want the young men who will presently sway American affairs to be fed

their knowledge of radical and revolutionary ideas by orthodox and

respectable persons who have pre-digested it for them and removed all

disturbing elements. The young men want the real stuff and to deal with

it themselves. I confess myself heart and soul for these young men.

There has recently been a controversy between Mr. Bertrand Russell

and President Lowell about the relative mental freedom of American

and British Universities. As Mr. Bertrand Russell was turned down for

pacifism from Cambridge during the war, he started in that controversy

with a handicap. It seems to me that such a dispute is bound to be

ineffectual. There are cases of mental restriction and suppression

from both sides of the Atlantic, and there are no scales invented yet

to weigh this case against that. The real conflict here is not between

American and European conditions, but between two types of men. It is a

conflict that rages throughout the entire world. Everywhere one finds

the managing, directive, limiting type of mind with a craving to get

on to governing bodies, the industry to get on governing bodies, and

a consequent tendency to get on governing bodies. Everywhere we find

also a less abundant supply of critical, sceptical, creative, restless

minds producing innovations and stimulating ideas and with an equal

tendency to get thrown out of organisations and governing bodies. They

are the seed, the ferment, the living factor in the human mind. In Dr.

Nicholas Murray Butler America has produced the perfect specimen of the

former class, just as in the late William James and in James Harvey

Robinson she has produced excellent samples of the second. It is loudly

boasted in British intellectual circles that Britain could not have

produced Dr. Nicholas Murray Butler, but so far as I am able to judge

there is as much Nicholas Murray Butlerism in Britain as in America,

as much large empty active influential pretentiousness, though it may

be more diffused, and it is at least as resolute to sit upon and addle

intellectual institutions.

For the peculiar evil of the governing body type is its failure to

understand its lack of finality. It has no sense of the unknown, no

sense of the provisional nature of all mundane things. It wants to fix

knowledge in its own image, to make subsidiary and to apportion and

departmentalise the work of the gifted exceptional and disturbing men.

It seeks to set up classics, to perpetuate existing institutions, to

inaugurate ancestor worship. Dr. Nicholas Murray Butler is to be the

American Confucius and stereotype this perfect world of 1924; the last

of the Founders. The coming generation will learn that at this point

the world congealed. The thing this dominating type dreads supremely is

revolutionary suggestion and the possibility of the young getting away

with new ideas. Its educational ideal is blinkers and an obedient youth

looking neither to the right nor the left, but pursuing the one right

path.

But the sustaining factor of life is death. Happily, most happily,

Founders die, and their codes and constitutions, their classical

utterances, die and pass away. Even the inspired addresses and

deliverances of Dr. Nicholas Murray Butler, so beautifully printed and

so relentlessly distributed, will some day shrivel and pass, and be no

more heeded. So that life may go on. Without death there could be no

birth. The most fundamental fact about youth is its disrespect for its

elders and the past. That is what it is for. A generation that wanted

to repeat the preceding generation would not be birth, it would be life

stuttering. And the one thing youth does most need and want and fight

to get, as its supreme instinctive duty, is and always will be every

sort of destructive criticism of existing authorities, of the existing

order, and of established institutions. Young America at Harvard

probably has no illusions about Mr. Debs or Mr. Foster; it calls them,

I am reasonably certain, “Old Debs” and “Old Foster.” But it means to

hear them, it will hear them, and the college authorities had better

help it to hear without any attempts whatever to jam the message

Old Debs and Old Foster have to deliver against the old system young

Harvard has been born to alter--and has been born for no other apparent

end that I can see.

Schools and Universities are surely the most paradoxical things in

the whole preposterous spectacle of human life. They exist to prepare

youth for a world of enormous changes, and their chief activity seems

to be, at Oxford and Cambridge quite as much as at Harvard and Yale,

to get youth apart from the world and conceal the forces of change

from its curious and intelligent eyes. The youth of the Universities

in particular should be the living eggs of the good new things of the

days to come. The efforts of the governing bodies everywhere seem to be

directed chiefly to getting them hard-boiled. My congratulations to Mr.

Corliss Lamont for having so far escaped the culinary process. Nowadays

there are Corliss Lamonts from China to Peru. The matter and the forms

change but the spirit is the same. In Moscow they have to fight as hard

as anywhere else; there it is to escape being made into hard-boiled

Communists. By virtue of the rebellious vitality in our youth this

world of mankind lives on and does not die and freeze into a monument

to its Founders.

XLII

THE LAWLESSNESS OF AMERICA AND THE WAY TO ORDER

21.6.24

Miss Rebecca West, that acute and brilliant observer, has recently been

in America, and she has been writing her impressions of the American

scene. She has been lecturing and hand-shaking, but with commendable

restraint she says little of her audiences, her hotels, and her railway

journeys. She has looked over the heads of her hearers and out of the

carriage windows. She has looked at the great spectacle as a whole, and

she generalises about it broadly and bravely.

The lack of civil order is the thing that strikes her most, and she

illustrates her perception of it by a vivid and illuminating discussion

of the necessity for prohibition and its consequent evils, and of the

colour trouble in the South. Various previous British visitors have

noted that lack in other terms, have remarked upon the want of a sense

of the State in American thought, and of the reaction upon humanity of

the fierce, untutored naturalness, the wide deserts, the undisciplined

rivers, and spontaneous tangled forest growths of the New World.

But when she looks for the forces that will presently bring order and

graciousness into this characteristically splendid display of energy

at large she calls rather startlingly for peasants. She thinks, in a

phrase that might have come straight from something by Chesterton, that

“nameless men who plough furrows that are straight and deep,” peasants

in bulk and multitude, are needed to establish a permanent social

order, an enduring and developing civilisation.

America has not enough peasants. This is an interesting development,

or perhaps I had better say an interesting lapse, in the ideas of a

woman we had come to regard, perhaps rashly, as a boldly progressive

spirit. This is turning back to the earthy romanticism of Belloc and

Chesterton, and I think it shows the profoundest misapprehension of

the fundamentals of the American situation. America has not developed

a peasant population--for it is sheer perversity of Miss West to write

as she does of Abraham Lincoln as a peasant’s son, as a traditional

plough-driver, instead of an axe-wielder from the East. America, with

machines to plough straighter and deeper than any clodhopper can ever

do, has no need of peasants for any purpose at all, except perhaps

as negro cotton-growers in the South. America is not developing a

peasantry and probably never will. At present the drift to the towns

is continuous, and rural depopulation is as present a problem in the

United States as in Great Britain.

That Miss West should associate civil order with a peasantry shows

an odd forgetfulness of European conditions. England, which has had

practically no peasantry for two centuries, but only wage-earning

labourers, displays the greatest social order and security in the

world; Russia, which is practically all peasantry, can, and could

before the war, show a lawlessness, an indiscipline and social

insecurity far exceeding anything of which Miss West complains in

America. I would as soon accept Zola’s valuation of the peasant in _La

Terre_ as Miss West’s discovery of him as the soil from which all the

social virtues spring.

It is in quite another quarter that I should look for the forces

that will ultimately adjust and bring together into a law-abiding

social harmony all the loose and conflicting elements of the American

State, and that is in a great development of schools and colleges.

It is from the head and centre and not from the base that the modern

community must be unified. It is a point that Miss West seems to ignore

altogether, that the United States is, in spite of the aggregatory form

of its constitution, the first instance of a new type of community

altogether, the type that steam railways, electrical communications,

and power machinery have made possible. It may have much trouble and

darkness in its destiny, but nothing but complete disaster can ever

lead to another repetition of that levelling down and earthing up

of the human spirit in peasant life that underlies the old-world

civilisations. The chief faults and merits of American life are alike

the characteristics of a released population that has escaped from that

intimate servitude to pedestrian locality, to the dungheap, the patch,

the hovel, and the bitter narrow outlook, for ever.

The reconstruction of human society in the great frame of these coming

modern communities is the fascinating reality of political life behind

the dullness and violence and unreality of personal rivalries and party

issues. Its cardinal process is the establishment of a new education

in terms of the common history and the common aim and a new training

of everyone in service to scientifically conceived human purposes.

It is an education that should not only occupy the first sixteen

years of life altogether, but which should continue its informing

and stimulating work throughout life. Only a few people, but it is

a rapidly growing number, are beginning to realise the scale and

equipment needed for this new nexus of education that will replace the

old-world peasants’ grubby priest by the new teachers of mankind. The

educational effort that lies before the world, and more immediately

before the United States as the pioneer of communal life upon a new

scale, must needs be a vast and elaborate one--it is useless for the

American to be content with schools about as good as European schools,

or a little better, or not quite so good; they have to be reconceived

in relation to the coming modern community, they have to be better

and more effective, they have to be wider in range, if he is not to

be thwarted of his immense opportunities of leadership in the present

advance of our race towards new conditions of living. But the forces of

educational development in a country work obscurely, the new beginnings

are difficult to come at, the living seed lies below the surface. It

is easy enough to go to America and be entertained and astonished by

the bootlegger and the “snow” dealer, to feel the chromatic emotions of

“colour,” and note the drug store flaring at every street corner. These

things signify about as much as the vivid spots that will sometimes

appear on the face and shoulders of growing youth. But the research

for educational developments is a subtle task, and it yields less

florid pictures. We are badly in need of some stock-taking, English or

American, of educational conditions in America.

XLIII

THE SHABBY SCHOOLS OF THE PIOUS: DRAINS AND THE ODOUR OF SANCTITY

28.6.24

One of the numerous questions which the Labour Government has to

avoid most sedulously in its official egg dance is the question

of the denominational school. Many of the denomination schools of

England are in an advanced state of decay, most of them fall short

of modern educational requirements, and the Labour Party made the

amplest promises of educational progress in the electoral campaign

that led it to office. Something drastic ought to be done about these

denominational schools. But the present voting system, which gives the

power of political decision to well-organised minorities, puts the

Labour Party at the mercy of the Roman Catholic vote in a number of

constituencies, the Roman Catholic community is particularly hostile

to educational development, and so nothing is done. The decay of these

schools proceeds.

A year of prophesying · 第 14 / 19 段