V.

There are, it will be seen, some elements in the program of the new

British Labour Party apparently at variance with American and English

institutions, traditions, and ideas. We are left in doubt, for instance,

in regard to its attitude toward private property. The instinct for

property is probably innate in humanity, and American conservatism in

this regard is, according to certain modern economists, undoubtedly

sound. A man should be permitted to acquire at least as much property

as is required for the expression of his personality; such a wise

limitation, also, would abolish the evil known as absentee ownership.

Again, there will arise in many minds the question whether the funds

for the plan of National finance outlined in the program may be obtained

without seriously deranging the economic system of the nation and of the

world. The older school denounces the program as Utopian. On the other

hand, economists of the modern school who have been consulted have

declared it practical. It is certain that before the war began it would

not have been thought possible to raise the billions which in four

years have been expended on sheer destruction; and one of our saddest

reflections today must be of regret that a small portion of these

billions which have gone to waste could not have been expended for the

very purposes outlined--education, public health, the advancement of

science and art, public buildings, roads and parks, and the proper

housing of populations! It is also dawning upon us, as a result of new

practices brought about by the war, that our organization of industry

was happy-go-lucky, inefficient and wasteful, and that a more scientific

and economical organization is imperative. Under such a new system it

may well be, as modern economists claim, that, we shall have an ample

surplus for the Common Good.

The chief objection to a National or Democratic Control of Industry has

been that it would tend to create vast political machines and thus give

the politicians in office a nefarious power. It is not intended here to

attempt a refutation of this contention. The remedy lies in a changed

attitude of the employee and the citizen toward government, and the

fact that such an attitude is now developing is not subject to absolute

proof. It may be said, however, that no greater menace to democracy

could have arisen than the one we seem barely to have escaped--the

control of politics and government by the capitalistic interests of the

nation. What seems very clear is that an evolutionary drift toward the

national control of industry has for many years been going on, and that

the war has tremendously speeded up the tendency. Government has stepped

in to protect the consumer of necessities from the profiteer, and

is beginning to set a limit upon profits; has regulated exports and

imports; established a national shipping corporation and merchant

marine, and entered into other industries; it has taken over the

railroads at least for the duration of the war, and may take over coal

mines, and metal resources, as well as the forests and water power; it

now contemplates the regulation of wages.

The exigency caused by the war, moreover, has transformed the former

practice of international intercourse. Co-operation has replaced

competition. We are reorganizing and regulating our industries, our

business, making sacrifices and preparing to make more sacrifices in

order to meet the needs of our Allies, now that they are sore beset. For

a considerable period after the war is ended, they will require our aid.

We shall be better off than any other of the belligerent nations, and

we shall therefore be called upon to practice, during the years of

reconstruction, a continuation of the same policy of helpfulness.

Indeed, for the nations of the world to spring, commercially speaking,

at one another’s throats would be suicidal even if it were possible. Mr.

Sidney Webb has thrown a flood of light upon the conditions likely to

prevail. For example, speculative export trade is being replaced by

collective importing, bringing business more directly under the control

of the consumer. This has been done by co-operative societies, by

municipalities and states, in Switzerland, France, the United Kingdom,

and in Germany. The Co-operative Wholesale Society of Great Britain,

acting on behalf of three and a half million families, buys two and a

half million dollars of purchases annually. And the Entente nations, in

order to avoid competitive bidding, are buying collectively from us, not

only munitions of war, but other supplies, while the British Government

has made itself the sole importer of such necessities as wheat, sugar,

tea, refrigerated meat, wool, and various metals. The French and Italian

governments, and also certain neutral states, have done likewise. A

purchasing commission for all the Allies and America is now proposed.

After the war, as an inevitable result, for one thing, of transforming

some thirty million citizens into soldiers, of engaging a like number of

men and women at enhanced wages on the manufacture of the requisites of

war, Mr. Webb predicts a world shortage not only in wheat and foodstuffs

but in nearly all important raw materials. These will be required for

the resumption of manufacture. In brief, international co-operation

will be the only means of salvation. The policy of international trade

implied by world shortage is not founded upon a law of “supply and

demand.” The necessities cannot be permitted to go to those who can

afford to pay the highest prices, but to those who need them most. For

the “free play of economic forces” would mean famine on a large scale,

because the richer nations and the richer classes within the nations

might be fully supplied; but to the detriment and ruin of the world

the poorer nations and the poorer classes would be starved. Therefore

governments are already beginning to give consideration to a new

organization of international trade for at least three years after

the war. Now if this organization produce, as it may produce, a more

desirable civilization and a happier world order, we are not likely

entirely to go back--especially in regard to commodities which are

necessities--to a competitive system. The principle of “priority

of need” will supersede the law of “supply and demand.” And the

organizations built up during the war, if they prove efficient, will not

be abolished. Hours of labour and wages in the co-operative League of

Nations will gradually be equalized, and tariffs will become things

of the past. “The axiom will be established,” says Mr. Webb, “that the

resources of every country must, be held for the benefit not only of its

own people but of the world.... The world shortage will, for years to

come, make import duties look both oppressive and ridiculous.”

So much may be said for the principle of Democratic Control. In spite of

all theoretical opposition, circumstances and evolution apparently point

to its establishment. A system that puts a premium on commercial greed

seems no longer possible.

The above comments, based on the drift of political practice during

the past decade and a half, may be taken for what they are worth.

Predictions are precarious. The average American will be inclined to

regard the program of the new British Labour Party as the embodiment of

what he vaguely calls Socialism, and to him the very word is repugnant.

Although he may never have heard of Marx, it is the Marxian conception

that comes to his mind, and this implies coercion, a government that

constantly interferes with his personal liberty, that compels him

to tasks for which he has no relish. But your American, and your

Englishman, for that matter, is inherently an individualist he wants as

little government as is compatible with any government at all. And the

descendants of the continental Europeans who flock to our shores

are Anglo-Saxonized, also become by environment and education

individualists. The great importance of preserving this individualism,

this spirit in our citizens of self-reliance, this suspicion against too

much interference with personal liberty, must at once be admitted. And

any scheme for a social order that tends to eliminate and destroy it

should by Americans be summarily rejected.

The question of supreme interest to us, therefore, is whether the

social order implied in the British program is mainly in the nature of

a development of, or a break with, the Anglo-Saxon democratic tradition.

The program is derived from an English source. It is based on what is

known as modern social science, which has as its ultimate sanction the

nature of the human mind as revealed by psychology. A consideration of

the principles underlying this proposed social order may prove that it

is essentially--if perhaps paradoxically--individualistic, a logical

evolution of institutions which had their origin in the Magna Charta.

Our Declaration of Independence proclaimed that every citizen had the

right to “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness,” which means

the opportunity to achieve the greatest self-development and

self-realization. The theory is that each citizen shall find his place,

according to his gifts and abilities, and be satisfied therewith. We may

discover that this is precisely what social science, in an industrial

age, and by spiritualizing human effort, aims to achieve. We may find

that the appearance of such a program as that of the British Labour

Party, supported as it is by an imposing proportion of the population

of the United Kingdom, marks a further step, not only in the advance of

social science and democracy, but also of Christianity.

I mention Christianity, not for controversial or apologetic reasons, but

because it has been the leaven of our western civilization ever since

the fall of the Roman Empire. Its constant influence has been to soften

and spiritualize individual and national relationships. The bitter

controversies, wars, and persecutions which have raged in its name are

utterly alien to its being. And that the present war is now being fought

by the Allies in the hope of putting an end to war, and is thus in the

true spirit of Christianity, marks an incomparable advance.

Almost up to the present day, both in our conception and practice of

Christianity, we have largely neglected its most important elements.

Christian orthodoxy, as Auguste Sabatier points out, is largely derived

from the older supernatural religions. The preservative shell of dogma

and superstition has been cracking, and is now ready to burst, and the

social teaching of Jesus would seem to be the kernel from which has

sprung modern democracy, modern science, and modern religion--a trinity

and unity.

For nearly two thousand years orthodoxy has insisted that the social

principles of Christianity are impractical. And indeed, until the

present day, they have been so. Physical science, by enormously

accelerating the means of transportation and communication, has so

contracted the world as to bring into communion peoples and races

hitherto far apart; has made possible an intelligent organization of

industry which, for the first time in history, can create a surplus

ample to maintain in comfort the world’s population. But this demands

the will to co-operation, which is a Christian principle--a recognition

of the brotherhood of man. Furthermore, physical science has increased

the need for world peace and international co-operation because the

territories of all nations are now subject to swift and terrible

invasion by modern instruments of destruction, while the future

submarine may sweep commerce from the seas.

Again, orthodoxy declares that human nature is inherently “bad,” while

true Christianity, endorsed by psychology, proclaims it inherently

“good,” which means that, properly guided, properly educated, it is

creative and contributive rather than destructive. No more striking

proof of this fact can be cited than the modern experiment in prison

reform in which hardened convicts, when “given a chance,” frequently

become useful citizens. Unjust and unintelligent social conditions are

the chief factors in making criminals.

Our most modern system of education, of which Professor John Dewey is

the chief protagonist, is based upon the assertions of psychology that

human nature is essentially “good” creative. Every normal child is

supposed to have a special “distinction” or gift, which it is the task

of the educator to discover. This distinction found, the child achieves

happiness in creation and contribution. Self-realization demands

knowledge and training: the doing of right is not a negative but a

positive act; it is not without significance that the Greek word for sin

is literally “missing the mark.” Christianity emphasizes above all else

the worth of the individual, yet recognizes that the individual can

develop only in society. And if the individual be of great worth, this

worth must be by society developed to its utmost. Universal suffrage is

a logical corollary.

Universal suffrage, however, implies individual judgment, which means

that the orthodox principle of external authority is out of place both

in Christianity and democracy. The Christian theory is that none shall

intervene between a man’s Maker and himself; democracy presupposes that

no citizen shall accept his beliefs and convictions from others, but

shall make up his own mind and act accordingly. Open-mindedness is the

first requisite of science and democracy.

What has been deemed, however, in Christianity the most unrealizable

ideal is that which may be called pacifism--to resist not evil, to turn

the other cheek, to agree with your adversary while you are in the

way with him. “I come not,” said Jesus, in one of those paradoxical

statements hitherto so difficult to understand, “I come not to bring

peace, but a sword.” It is indeed what we are fighting for--peace. But

we believe today, more strongly than ever before, as democracy advances,

as peoples tend to gain more and more control over their governments,

that even this may not be an unrealizable ideal. Democracies, intent on

self-realization and self-development, do not desire war.

The problem of social science, then, appears to be to organize human

society on the principles and ideals of Christianity. But in view of

the fact that the trend of evolution is towards the elimination of

commercial competition, the question which must seriously concern us

today is--What in the future shall be the spur of individual initiative?

Orthodoxy and even democratic practice have hitherto taken it for

granted--in spite of the examples of highly socialized men, benefactors

of society--that the average citizen will bestir himself only for

material gain. And it must be admitted that competition of some sort is

necessary for self-realization, that human nature demands a prize. There

can be no self-sacrifice without a corresponding self-satisfaction.

The answer is that in the theory of democracy, as well as in that of

Christianity, individualism and co-operation are paradoxically blended.

For competition, Christianity substitutes emulation. And with democracy,

it declares that mankind itself can gradually be rained towards the

level of the choice individual who does not labour for gain, but in

behalf of society. For the process of democracy is not degrading, but

lifting. Like Christianity, democracy demands faith, and has as its

inspiring interpretation of civilization evolution towards a spiritual

goal. Yet the kind of faith required is no longer a blind faith, but one

founded on sane and carefully evolved theories. Democracy has become a

scientific experiment.

In this connection, as one notably inspired by emulation, by the joy of

creative work and service, the medical profession comes first to

mind. The finer element in this profession is constantly increasing in

numbers, growing more and more influential, making life less easy for

the quack, the vendor of nostrums, the commercial proprietor of the

bogus medical college. The doctor who uses his talents for gain is

frowned upon by those of his fellow practitioners whose opinion really

counts. Respected physicians in our cities give much of their time to

teaching, animating students with their own spirit; and labour long

hours, for no material return, in the clinics of the poor. And how

often, in reading our newspapers, do we learn that some medical

scientist, by patient work, and often at the risk of life and health,

has triumphed over a scourge which has played havoc with humanity

throughout the ages! Typhoid has been conquered, and infant paralysis;

gangrene and tetanus, which have taken such toll of the wounded in

Flanders and France; yellow fever has been stamped out in the tropics;

hideous lesions are now healed by a system of drainage. The very list of

these achievements is bewildering, and latterly we are given hope of

the prolongation of life itself. Here in truth are Christian deeds

multiplied by science, made possible by a growing knowledge of and

mastery over Nature.

Such men by virtue of their high mission are above the vicious social

and commercial competition poisoning the lives of so many of their

fellow citizens. In our democracy they have found their work, and the

work is its own reward. They give striking testimony to the theory that

absorption in a creative or contributive task is the only source of

self-realization. And he has little faith in mankind who shall

declare that the medical profession is the only group capable of being

socialized, or, rather, of socializing themselves--for such is the

true process of democracy. Public opinion should be the leaven. What

is possible for the doctor is also possible for the lawyer, for the

teacher. In a democracy, teaching should be the most honoured of the

professions, and indeed once was,--before the advent of industrialism,

when it gradually fell into neglect,--occasionally into deplorable

submission to the possessors of wealth. Yet a wage disgracefully

low, hardship, and even poverty have not hindered men of ability from

entering it in increasing numbers, renouncing ease and luxuries. The

worth of the contributions of our professors to civilization has been

inestimable; and fortunately signs are not lacking that we are coming

to an appreciation of the value of the expert in government, who is

replacing the panderer and the politician. A new solidarity of teaching

professional opinion, together with a growing realization by our public

of the primary importance of the calling, is tending to emancipate it,

to establish it in its rightful place.

Nor are our engineers without their ideal. A Goethals did not cut an

isthmus in two for gain.

Industrialism, with its concomitant “corporation” practice, has

undoubtedly been detrimental to the legal profession, since it has

resulted in large fees; in the accumulation of vast fortunes, frequently

by methods ethically questionable. Grave social injustices have been

done, though often in good faith, since the lawyer, by training and

experience, has hitherto been least open to the teachings of the new

social science, has been an honest advocate of the system of ‘laissez

faire’. But to say that the American legal profession is without ideals

and lacking in the emulative spirit would be to do it a grave injustice.

The increasing influence of national and state bar associations

evidences a professional opinion discouraging to the unscrupulous;

while a new evolutionary and more humanitarian conception of law is now

beginning to be taught, and young men are entering the ranks imbued

with this. Legal clinics, like medical clinics, are established for the

benefit of those who cannot afford to pay fees, for the protection

of the duped from the predatory quack. And, it must be said of this

profession, which hitherto has held a foremost place in America,

that its leaders have never hesitated to respond to a public call, to

sacrifice their practices to serve the nation. Their highest ambition

has even been to attain the Supreme Court, where the salary is a mere

pittance compared to what they may earn as private citizens.

Thus we may review all the groups in the nation, but the most

significant transformation of all is taking place within the business

group,--where indeed it might be least expected. Even before the war

there were many evidences that the emulative spirit in business had

begun to modify the merely competitive, and we had the spectacle of

large employers of labour awakening to the evils of industrialism, and

themselves attempting to inaugurate reforms. As in the case of labour,

it would be obviously unfair to claim that the employer element was

actuated by motives of self-interest alone; nor were their concessions

due only to fear. Instances could be cited, if there were space, of

voluntary shortening of hours of labour, of raising of wages, when

no coercion was exerted either by the labour unions or the state;

and--perhaps to their surprise employers discovered that such acts were

not only humane but profitable! Among these employers, in fact, may be

observed individuals in various stages of enlightenment, from the few

who have educated themselves in social science, who are convinced that

the time has come when it is not only practicable but right, who realize

that a new era has dawned; to others who still believe in the old

system, who are trying to bolster it up by granting concessions, by

establishing committees of conference, by giving a voice and often a

financial interest, but not a vote, in the conduct of the corporation

concerned. These are the counterpart, in industry, of sovereigns whose

away has been absolute, whose intentions are good, but who hesitate,

often from conviction, to grant constitutions. Yet even these are

responding in some degree to social currents, though the aggressive

struggles of labour may have influenced them, and partially opened

their eyes. They are far better than their associates who still seek to

control the supplies of food and other necessities, whose efficiency is

still solely directed, not toward a social end, but toward the amassing

of large fortunes, and is therefore wasted so far as society is

concerned. They do not perceive that by seeking to control prices they

merely hasten the tendency of government control, for it is better to

have government regulation for the benefit of the many than proprietary

control, however efficient, for the benefit of the few.

That a significant change of heart and mind has begun to take place

amongst capitalists, that the nucleus of a “public opinion” has been

formed within an element which, by the use and wont of business and

habits of thought might be regarded as least subject to the influence of

social ideas, is a most hopeful augury. This nascent opinion has begun

to operate by shaming unscrupulous and recalcitrant employers into

better practices. It would indeed fare ill with democracy if, in such

an era, men of large business proved to be lacking in democratic

initiative, wholly unreceptive and hostile to the gradual introduction

of democracy into industry, which means the perpetuation of the

American Idea. Fortunately, with us, this capitalistic element is of

comparatively recent growth, the majority of its members are essentially

Americans; they have risen from small beginnings, and are responsive

to a democratic appeal--if that appeal be properly presented. And, as a

matter of fact, for many years a leaven had been at work among them; the

truth has been brought home to them that the mere acquisition of wealth

brings neither happiness nor self-realization; they have lavished their

money on hospitals and universities, clinics, foundations for scientific

research, and other gifts of inestimable benefit to the nation and

mankind. Although the munificence was on a Medicean scale, this private

charity was in accord with the older conception of democracy, and paved

the way for a new order.

The patriotic and humanitarian motive aroused by the war greatly

accelerated the socializing transformation of the business man and the

capitalist. We have, indeed, our profiteers seeking short cuts to luxury

and wealth; but those happily most representative of American affairs,

including the creative administrators, hastened to Washington with a

willingness to accept any position in which they might be useful, and

in numerous instances placed at the disposal of the government the

manufacturing establishments which, by industry and ability, they

themselves had built up. That in thus surrendering the properties for

which they were largely responsible they hoped at the conclusion of

peace to see restored the ‘status quo ante’ should not be held against

them. Some are now beginning to surmise that a complete restoration is

impossible; and as a result of their socializing experience, are even

wondering whether it is desirable. These are beginning to perceive

that the national and international organizations in the course of

construction to meet the demands of the world conflict must form the

model for a future social structure; that the unprecedented pressure

caused by the cataclysm is compelling a recrystallization of society in

which there must be fewer misfits, in which many more individuals than

formerly shall find public or semi-public tasks in accordance with their

gifts and abilities.

It may be argued that war compels socialization, that after the war

the world will perforce return to materialistic individualism. But this

calamity, terrible above all others, has warned us of the imperative

need of an order that shall be socializing, if we are not to witness the

destruction of our civilization itself. Confidence that such an order,

thanks to the advancement of science, is now within our grasp should not

be difficult for Americans, once they have rightly conceived it. We, who

have always pinned our faith to ideas, who entered the conflict for an

Idea, must be the last to shirk the task, however Herculean, of world

reconstruction along the lines of our own professed faith. We cannot be

renegades to Democracy.

Above all things, then, it is essential for us as a people not to

abandon our faith in man, our belief that not only the exceptional

individual but the majority of mankind can be socialized. What is true

of our physicians, our scientists and professional men, our manual

workers, is also true of our capitalists and business men. In a more

just and intelligent organization of society these will be found willing

to administer and improve for the common weal the national resources

which formerly they exploited for the benefit of themselves and their

associates. The social response, granted the conditions, is innate in

humanity, and individual initiative can best be satisfied in social

realization.

Universal education is the cornerstone of democracy. And the recognition

of this fact may be called the great American contribution. But in

our society the fullest self-realization depends upon a well balanced

knowledge of scientific facts, upon a rounded culture. Thus education,

properly conceived, is a preparation for intelligent, ethical, and

contented citizenship. Upon the welfare of the individual depends the

welfare of all. Without education, free institutions and universal

suffrage are mockeries; semi-learned masses of the population are at the

mercy of scheming politicians, controversialists, and pseudo-scientific

religionists, and their votes are swayed by prejudice.

In a materialistic competitive order, success in life depends upon the

knack--innate or acquired, and not to be highly rated--of outwitting

one’s neighbour under the rules of the game--the law; education is

merely a cultural leaven within the reach of the comparatively few

who can afford to attend a university. The business college is a more

logical institution. In an emulative civilization, however, the problem

is to discover and develop in childhood and youth the personal aptitude

or gift of as many citizens as possible, in order that they may find

self-realization by making their peculiar contribution towards the

advancement of society.

The prevailing system of education, which we have inherited from the

past, largely fails to accomplish this. In the first place, it has been

authoritative rather than scientific, which is to say that students have

been induced to accept the statements of teachers and text books, and

have not been trained to weigh for themselves their reasonableness and

worth; a principle essentially unscientific and undemocratic, since it

inculcates in the future citizen convictions rather than encourages the

habit of open-mindedness so necessary for democratic citizenship.

For democracy--it cannot be too often repeated--is a dynamic thing,

experimental, creative in its very essence. No static set of opinions

can apply to the constantly changing aspect of affairs. New discoveries,

which come upon us with such bewildering rapidity, are apt abruptly to

alter social and industrial conditions, while morals and conventions are

no longer absolute. Sudden crises threaten the stability of nations

and civilizations. Safety lies alone in the ability to go forward,

to progress. Psychology teaches us that if authoritative opinions,

convictions, or “complexes” are stamped upon the plastic brain of

the youth they tend to harden, and he is apt to become a Democrat or

Republican, an Episcopalian or a Baptist, a free trader or a tariff

advocate or a Manchester economist without asking why. Such “complexes”

were probably referred to by the celebrated physician who emphasized

the hopelessness of most individuals over forty. And every reformer and

forum lecturer knows how difficult it is to convert the average audience

of seasoned adults to a new idea: he finds the most responsive groups

in the universities and colleges. It is significant that the “educated”

adult audiences in clubs and prosperous churches are the least open to

conversion, because, in the scientific sense, the “educated” classes

retain complexes, and hence are the least prepared to cope with the

world as it is today. The German system, which has been bent upon

installing authoritative conviction instead of encouraging freedom of

thought, should be a warning to us.

Again, outside of the realm of physical science, our text books have

been controversial rather than impartial, especially in economics and

history; resulting in erroneous and distorted and prejudiced ideas of

events, such for instance, as our American Revolution. The day of the

controversialist is happily coming to an end, and of the writer who

twists the facts of science to suit a world of his own making, or of

that of a group with which he is associated. Theory can now be labelled

theory, and fact, fact. Impartial and painstaking investigation is the

sole method of obtaining truth.

The old system of education benefited only the comparatively few to

whose nature and inclination it was adapted. We have need, indeed, of

classical scholars, but the majority of men and women are meant for

other work; many, by their very construction of mind, are unfitted to

become such. And only in the most exceptional cases are the ancient

languages really mastered; a smattering of these, imposed upon the

unwilling scholar by a principle opposed to psychology,--a smattering

from which is derived no use and joy in after life, and which has no

connection with individual inclination--is worse than nothing. Precious

time is wasted during the years when the mind is most receptive. While

the argument of the old school that discipline can only be inculcated

by the imposition of a distasteful task is unsound. As Professor Dewey

points out, unless the interest is in some way involved there can be

no useful discipline. And how many of our university and high school

graduates today are in any sense disciplined? Stimulated interest

alone can overcome the resistance imposed by a difficult task, as any

scientist, artist, organizer or administrator knows. Men will discipline

themselves to gain a desired end. Under the old system of education a

few children succeed either because they are desirous of doing well,

interested in the game of mental competition; or else because they

contrive to clothe with flesh and blood some subject presented as a

skeleton. It is not uncommon, indeed, to recognize in later years with

astonishment a useful citizen or genius whom at school or college we

recall as a dunce or laggard. In our present society, because of archaic

methods of education, the development of such is largely left to chance.

Those who might have been developed in time, who might have found their

task, often become wasters, drudges, and even criminals.

The old system tends to make types, to stamp every scholar in the same

mould, whether he fits it or not. More and more the parents of today

are looking about for new schools, insisting that a son or daughter

possesses some special gift which, under teachers of genius, might be

developed before it is too late. And in most cases, strange to say, the

parents are right. They themselves have been victims of a standardized

system.

A new and distinctly American system of education, designed to meet the

demands of modern conditions, has been put in practice in parts of the

United States. In spite of opposition from school boards, from all

those who cling to the conviction that education must of necessity be an

unpalatable and “disciplinary” process, the number of these schools is

growing. The objection, put forth by many, that they are still in the

experimental stage, is met by the reply that experiment is the very

essence of the system. Democracy is experimental, and henceforth

education will remain experimental for all time. But, as in any other

branch of science, the element of ascertained fact will gradually

increase: the latent possibilities in the mind of the healthy child will

be discovered by knowledge gained through impartial investigation. The

old system, like all other institutions handed down to us from the ages,

proceeds on no intelligent theory, has no basis on psychology, and is

accepted merely because it exists.

The new education is selective. The mind of each child is patiently

studied with the view of discovering the peculiar bent, and this bent

is guided and encouraged. The child is allowed to forge ahead in those

subjects for which he shows an aptitude, and not compelled to wait on a

class. Such supervision, of course, demands more teachers, teachers of

an ability hitherto deplorably rare, and thoroughly trained in their

subjects, with a sympathetic knowledge of the human mind. Theirs will be

the highest and most responsible function in the state, and they must be

rewarded in proportion to their services.

A superficial criticism declares that in the new schools children will

study only “what they like.” On the contrary, all subjects requisite for

a wide culture, as well as for the ability to cope with existence in

a highly complex civilization, are insisted upon. It is true, however,

that the trained and gifted teacher is able to discover a method of so

presenting a subject as to seize the imagination and arouse the interest

and industry of a majority of pupils. In the modern schools French, for

example, is really taught; pupils do not acquire a mere smattering

of the language. And, what is more important, the course of study is

directly related to life, and to practical experience, instead of being

set forth abstractly, as something which at the time the pupil perceives

no possibility of putting into use. At one of the new schools in the

south, the ignorant child of the mountains at once acquires a knowledge

of measurement and elementary arithmetic by laying out a garden,

of letters by inscribing his name on a little signboard in order to

identify his patch--for the moment private property. And this principle

is carried through all the grades. In the Gary Schools and elsewhere

the making of things in the shops, the modelling of a Panama Canal, the

inspection of industries and governmental establishments, the

designing, building, and decoration of houses, the discussion and even

dramatization of the books read,--all are a logical and inevitable

continuation of the abstract knowledge of the schoolroom. The success of

the direct application of learning to industrial and professional

life may also be observed in such colleges as those at Cincinnati and

Schenectady, where young men spend half the time of the course in the

shops of manufacturing, corporations, often earning more than enough to

pay their tuition.

Children are not only prepared for democratic citizenship by being

encouraged to think for themselves, but also to govern and discipline

themselves. On the moral side, under the authoritative system of lay

and religious training, character was acquired at the expense of mental

flexibility--the Puritan method; our problem today, which the new system

undertakes, is to produce character with open-mindedness--the kind

of character possessed by many great scientists. Absorption in an

appropriate task creates a moral will, while science, knowledge, informs

the mind why a thing is “bad” or “good,” disintegrating or upbuilding.

Moreover, these children are trained for democratic government by the

granting of autonomy. They have their own elected officials, their

own courts; their decisions are, of course, subject to reversal by the

principal, but in practice this seldom occurs.

The Gary Schools and many of the new schools are public schools. And the

principle of the new education that the state is primarily responsible

for the health of pupils--because an unsound body is apt to make an

unsound citizen of backward intelligence--is now being generally adopted

by public schools all over the country. This idea is essentially an

element of the democratic contention that all citizens must be given

an equality of opportunity--though all may not be created equal--now

becoming a positive rather than a negative right, guaranteed by the

state itself. An earnest attempt is thus made by the state to give

every citizen a fair start that in later years he may have no ground

for discontent or complaint. He stands on his own feet, he rises in

proportion to his ability and industry. Hence the program of the British

Labour Party rightly lays stress on education, on “freedom of mental

opportunity.” The vast sums it proposes to spend for this purpose are

justified.

If such a system of education as that briefly outlined above is

carefully and impartially considered, the objection that democratic

government founded on modern social science is coercive must disappear.

So far as the intention and effort of the state is able to confer it,

every citizen will have his choice of the task he is to perform for

society, his opportunity for self-realization. For freedom without

education is a myth. By degrees men and women are making ready to take

their places in an emulative rather than a materialistically competitive

order. But the experimental aspect of this system should always be borne

in mind, with the fact that its introduction and progress, like that of

other elements in the democratic program, must be gradual, though always

proceeding along sound lines. For we have arrived at that stage of

enlightenment when we realize that the only mundane perfection lies in

progress rather than achievement. The millennium is always a lap ahead.

There would be no satisfaction in overtaking it, for then we should have

nothing more to do, nothing more to work for.

The German Junkers have prostituted science by employing it for the

destruction of humanity. In the name of Christianity they have waged

the most barbaric war in history. Yet if they shall have demonstrated

to mankind the futility of efficiency achieved merely for material ends;

if, by throwing them on a world screen, they shall have revealed

the evils of power upheld alone by ruthlessness and force, they will

unwittingly have performed a world service. Privilege and dominion,

powers and principalities acquired by force must be sustained by force.

To fail will be fatal. Even a duped people, trained in servility, will

not consent to be governed by an unsuccessful autocracy. Arrogantly

Germany has staked her all on world domination. Hence a victory for the

Allies must mean a democratic Germany.

Nothing short of victory. There can be no arrangement, no

agreement, no parley with or confidence in these modern scions of

darkness--Hohenzollerns, Hindenburgs, Zudendorffs and their tools.

Propaganda must not cease; the eyes of Germans still capable of sight

must be opened. But, as the President says, force must be used to the

limit--force for a social end as opposed to force for an evil end. There

are those among us who advocate a boycott of Germany after peace is

declared. These would seem to take it for granted that we shall fall

short of victory, and hence that selfish retaliative or vindictive

practices between nations, sanctioned by imperialism, will continue to

flourish after the war. But should Germany win she will see to it that

there is no boycott against her. A compromised peace would indeed mean

the perpetuation of both imperialism and militarism.

It is characteristic of those who put their faith in might alone that

they are not only blind to the finer relationships between individuals

and nations, but take no account of the moral forces in human affairs

which in the long run are decisive,--a lack of sensitiveness which

explains Germany’s colossal blunders. The first had to do with Britain.

The German militarists persisted in the belief that the United Kingdom

was degenerated by democracy, intent upon the acquisition of wealth,

distracted by strife at home, uncertain of the Empire, and thus would

selfishly remain aloof while the Kaiser’s armies overran and enslaved

the continent. What happened, to Germany’s detriment, was the instant

socialization of Britain, and the binding together of the British

Empire. Germany’s second great blunder was an arrogant underestimation

of a self-reliant people of English culture and traditions. She believed

that we, too, had been made flabby by democracy, were wholly intent upon

the pursuit of the dollar--only to learn that America would lavish

her vast resources and shed her blood for a cause which was American.

Germany herself provided that cause, shaped the issues so that there

was no avoiding them. She provided the occasion for the socializing

of America also; and thus brought about, within a year, a national

transformation which in times of peace might scarce in half a century

have been accomplished.

Above all, as a consequence of these two blunders, Germany has been

compelled to witness the consummation of that which of all things she

had most to fear, the cementing of a lasting fellowship between the

English speaking Republic and the English speaking Empire. For we had

been severed since the 18th Century by misunderstandings which of late

Germany herself had been more or less successful in fostering. She has

furnished a bond not only between our governments, but--what is vastly

more important for democracy--a bond between our peoples. Our soldiers

are now side by side with those of the Empire on the Frontier of

Freedom; the blood of all is shed and mingled for a great cause embodied

in the Anglo-Saxon tradition of democracy; and our peoples, through the

realization of common ideas and common ends, are learning the supreme

lesson of co-operation between nations with a common past, are being

cemented into a union which is the symbol and forerunner of the

democratic league of Nations to come. Henceforth, we believe, because

of this union, so natural yet so long delayed, by virtue of the ultimate

victory it forecasts, the sun will never set on the Empire of the free,

for the drum beats of democracy have been heard around the world. To

this Empire will be added the precious culture of France, which the

courage of her sons will have preserved, the contributions of Italy, and

of Russia, yes, and of Japan.

Our philosophy and our religion are changing; hence it is more and more

difficult to use the old terms to describe moral conduct. We say,

for instance, that America’s action in entering the war has been

“unselfish.” But this merely means that we have our own convictions

concerning the ultimate comfort of the world, the manner of

self-realization of individuals and nations. We are attempting to

turn calamity into good. If this terrible conflict shall result in

the inauguration of an emulative society, if it shall bring us to the

recognition that intelligence and science may be used for the upbuilding

of such an order, and for an eventual achievement of world peace, every

sacrifice shall have been justified.

Such is the American Issue. Our statesmen and thinkers have helped to

evolve it, our people with their blood and treasure are consecrating it.

And these statesmen and thinkers, of whom our American President is

not the least, are of democracy the pioneers. From the mountain tops on

which they stand they behold the features of the new world, the dawn of

the new day hidden as yet from their brothers in the valley. Let us have

faith always that it is coming, and struggle on, highly resolving that

those who gave their lives in the hour of darkness shall not have died

in vain.