This is the real parting of the ways; it is fundamental. Christianity,

based upon the personal example and teaching of Christ, is too

individualist to be in accordance with Society as at present

constituted. Institutional Christianity, on the other hand, has

obviously transferred its allegiance in certain matters of moral

guidance from Christ to Cæsar; and claims that those matters have

been left for Cæsar to decide. I heard it argued, for instance,

quite recently, by a Roman Catholic, that as Christendom in all ages

had tolerated war, all question of conscientious objection thereto

by a Catholic falls to the ground. The answer of the Christian

individualist, I conceive, would be, that Christendom also tolerated

torture for the extraction of truth, and slavery for the extraction

of labour; and that, nevertheless, the conscientious objection

of resistant minorities succeeded, in spite of the supineness of

Christendom, in placing those monstrosities outside the pale of

civilized convention. No doubt while those devices flourished

under the countenance of Mother Church, Christians opposed to their

abolition would have cried then, as they cry now about war, “How are

you to do without them? How can you extract truth from an unwilling

witness, or labour from a subjugated race, except by compulsion and

force?” The answer to that apparently insoluble problem now stands

written in history--a history which has not eliminated untruth from

the witness-box, or indolence from the labour market; yet torture and

slavery alike have ceased to be practical politics, except where the

State still answers with regard to war as it used to answer with regard

to these: “I cannot do without.” There, in their last real stronghold,

unaffected by Christian ethics, slavery and torture still stand.

But we have to remember that the State’s claim, if we accept it as a

binding principle, comes much closer home to us than it would do if

it arose only in time of war. Military service, once we are in it,

involves us in such things as the firing at Peterloo on defenceless

citizens, in the murder under superior orders of Sheehy Skeffington;

in the shooting, if we are ordered to shoot them, of conscientious

objectors--men who are themselves sworn not to take life. Military

service, loyally rendered in Tsarist Russia, involved the riding down,

the sabring to death, and the drowning of those meek crowds who stood

before the Winter Palace in January, 1905, asking for their “Little

Father” to come and speak to them words of comfort.

These are things unfortunately which Christians cannot do with a

good conscience, but which the State for its safety may say that it

requires. Let those of us who agree with the State’s claim to our

personal service, irrespective of conscience, do our utmost to separate

it from the weakening effects which true and genuine Christianity is

bound to have on it.

THE SALT OF THE EARTH

(1918)

It is a curious commentary upon the confusion of tongues which has

descended upon us in our efforts to build towers reaching to Heaven,

that you would have been misled had I given this address its true

title. Had I called it “the Value of Purity” most of you would have

imagined that I was going to speak of what is usually called--with such

strange one-sidedness--the “social evil”; just as we call the liquor

traffic “the Trade.” You would have thought, probably, that I was

going to speak about Regulation 40 D, or some other aspect of the sex

problem with which the word “purity” has become conventionally allied.

It would, indeed, be one-sided in the other direction, to exclude

such considerations from the scope of so embracing a theme; but my

intention is rather to disencumber the word “purity” from the narrow

and puritanical meaning to which it has become limited; and the “Salt

of the Earth” does bring us nearer by its salutary implication to what

purity should really mean.

For if purity is not a good sanitary principle of fundamental

application to all ethical problems alike, it is merely a pious fad

which may easily become a pious fraud--a religious tenet pigeon-holed

by crabbed age for the affliction of youth. To departmentalise it in

a particular direction leads to impurity of thought; for we destroy

the balance of life and degrade its standards if we do not use our

moral weights and measures consistently in all relations alike. And

if you allow a particular implication of purity to impose its claim

in a society whose impurity in other directions makes it entirely

impracticable, then you are reducing your social ethics to mere

pretence and mockery; and honest youth will find you out, and will turn

away from your religions and your ethical codes with the contempt which

they deserve.

Is not that what is actually happening--more apparently to-day,

perhaps, than ever before? Has not that departmental code to which I

refer broken down and become foolish in the eyes of honest men and

women, largely because purity is nowhere established in the surrounding

conditions of our social life?

What is the true aim of social life and social organisation in regard

to the individual? What claim has it upon his allegiance if it does

not offer the means of self-realisation and self-fulfilment equally to

all? And suppose, instead of doing this in a large majority of cases,

it does the reverse: starves his imagination, reduces his initiative,

cripples his development, makes practically impossible (at the time

when desire awakes and becomes strong) the fulfilment of his nature

instinct for mating; how does the claim stand then? If you can only

offer him marriage conditions which are themselves impure, unequal laws

which are themselves a temptation, houses incompatible with health

or decency, wages insufficient for the healthy support of home, and

wife, and children; if that, broadly speaking, has been the marriage

condition which society offers to wage-earning youth, what right has it

to babble about “purity” in that narrower and more individual relation,

while careless to provide it in its own larger domain?

If you have employments--such as that of bank-clerk or

shop-assistant--which demand of those engaged a certain gentility of

dress and appearance, but offer only a wage upon which (till a man

is over thirty) domestic establishment at the required standard of

respectability is quite impossible--if that is the social condition

imposed in a great branch of middle-class industry--if you tolerate

that condition and draw bigger profits from your business, and bigger

dividends from your investments upon the strength of it--what right

have you to demand of your victims an abstinence which is in itself

unnatural and penurious, and therefore impure?

Yet what proportion of sermons, think you, have been preached

during the last hundred years in churches and chapels against that

great social impurity of underpaid labour, and underfed life which

have between them done so far more to create prostitution than any

indwelling depravity in the heart of youth? Thwarted life, and sweated

labour, those have been the makings of the “social evil,” so called;

and they lie at the door of an impure system which has made its money

savings at the cost of a great waste of life.

That particular instance, which I refer to merely in passing, has to

do with our ordinary application of the word purity. But I want to

show how all social purity really hangs together, and how, unless

you have a great fundamental social principle pure throughout,

corruption will carry infection from one department to the other,

making useless or impracticable any ideal of purity which you try to

set up in one particular direction. If you do--to put it plainly and

colloquially--the doctrine won’t wash; honest minds will find out that

the part is inconsistent with the whole.

What, then, is the whole social ideal which lies at the root of the

modern State? Is it pure, or is it impure? Is it the true “Salt of the

Earth” which, if equally applied, will benefit all nations and all

peoples alike: those to whom, in President Wilson’s phrase, we wish to

be just, and those to whom we do not wish to be just? Does any modern

State really present within its own borders, and in its treatment of

all classes and interests, an example which, if extended, would make

the world safe for Internationalism--an end which I am inclined to

think is more important than making it safe for Democracy?

The phrase “Salt of the Earth,” which I have taken to illustrate the

meaning and value of social purity, has come to us from that wonderful

compendium of ethical teaching known to Christians as the “Sermon

on the Mount”; that body of coherent, consistent, and constructive

doctrine from which Christianity--so soon as it had allied itself with

Cæsar and the things of Cæsar--made such haste to depart. And the

whole process of that departure was (from the pure ethical standard of

the Sermon on the Mount) a process of adulteration--of impurity--an

adaptation of a spiritual ideal to a secular practice of mixed motives.

But the process really began earlier. It began in the attempt to

identify the God of the Sermon on the Mount with Jahveh, the tribal God

of Hebrew history. And in that attempted identification (incompatible

ethics having to be reconciled) ethics became confounded.

The Rabbinical training of St. Paul, the Hebraistic tendencies of the

early Christian Church (whose first device was to proselytize the Jews

on the old nationalistic assumption that they were the Chosen People),

all combined to give an impure vision of God to the followers of the

new faith. The nationalism of Judaism corrupted the internationalism

of the Day of Pentecost; and the primitive Mosaic code uttered from

Sinai, and adapted to the mission of racial conquest there enjoined,

stultified the teaching of Calvary.

The two were incompatible; yet, somehow or another, the Christian

Church had to evolve an ethic which embraced both. And it did so

through allegiance to the State, and the setting-up of a compromise

between things secular and things spiritual which has existed ever

since.

You can see for yourselves which of the two is to-day the more

recognised and observed among nations which call themselves Christian.

The old tenets of Judaism--based on the Mosaic law and summed up in the

saying, “An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth”--can be observed

by any one to-day in practical entirety with the full approval of the

State. A strict observance of the Sermon on the Mount, and a practical

belief in the teaching of Calvary land a man in prison or may even

render him liable to be shot.

Rightly or wrongly he is regarded as a danger or a weakness to the

modern State. Personally, I think that he is rightly regarded so; for I

do not see how the modern State could exist if everyone were a sincere

believer in that great peace-offensive, the Sermon on the Mount, and in

its great practical exposition, the Death on Calvary. The only thing I

am in doubt about is whether the modern State is the better alternative.

Christianity, sincerely and whole-heartedly practised, might have

strange social results; it might, on the other hand, be unexpectedly

pleasant and workable. But of one thing I feel quite sure; it would

not--as humanity is at present constituted--be practised by any but a

very small minority; and it would have to work entirely without State

aid. But that minority would fulfil, for the purposes of demonstration,

the condition which, I think, is necessary for all great ethical

adventures: it would be pure and unadulterated. It would succeed or

it would fail standing upon its own feet and not upon Cæsar’s, not

relying on mixed motives or compromise, but on a single principle--the

principle of loving your neighbour as yourself, and converting him

from evil ways by a process of peaceful penetration. And being--and

remaining, a decisive minority in the world’s affairs, its part therein

would resemble the part played by salt in the chemical sanitation of

the soil out of which grow the clean or the unclean things of earth

which feed or which poison us.

And that is the first point which I ask you to consider; the

extraordinary value to society, and to the whole evolution of the human

race of minorities holding extremist opinions--so extreme that they do

not seem at the present day to be practical politics--and yet having a

chemic influence (which would not be otherwise obtainable) for bringing

into being the mind of to-morrow, which has always been, all down the

ages, the work of minorities, and generally of persecuted minorities.

For the Salt of the Earth is only one single constituent, which enables

a better standard of life to become established where the virtue

of its presence is felt. Salt is not, and cannot be, the general

constituent of life; its essence always remains a minor quantity, and

yet quite definitely it affects the generality of things around it.

But in itself it is an extreme, an uncompromising element; its most

striking characteristic is its saltness.

It would be foolish, therefore, to blame it for not being sweet, or for

not being acid, or for not being capable of taking the place of beef or

mutton in the dietary of the human race, or for not making the whole

human race in its own image. (The only person I ever heard of who was

turned into an image of salt was Lot’s wife; and as a human being it

made her entirely useless). And yet, as, quite literally, the substance

salt has helped the earth to become habitable, and the human race to

become human, so has that symbolic salt of the earth, helped the human

race to become humane, and to envisage (though not to obey) a new ethic

of conduct based upon an ideal conception of the brotherhood of man.

It was the extreme expression of a new and higher moral plane to which

evolution is only gradually bringing us. Had it started upon compromise

it would have been useless. Its special value was, and still is, in

its uncompromising enunciation of a principle which we still regard as

impracticable.

But it had, at least, when it was first uttered, this degree of

practicability--it appealed to men’s minds; and it has gone on

appealing to them ever since.

Had it been uttered to neolithic man, it would have been merely

unintelligible, with no imaginable relation to the experiences of

life; whereas it has a very obvious relation now. Earth was then

in the toils not of a moral but of a physical problem, demanding

a straightforward physical solution; and the salting of the earth

consisted then very largely in the indomitable courage and obstinacy

with which man--the crude struggling biped--stood up against the larger

and more powerful forms of life which barred the way of his advance

toward civilisation--just as previously, the salting of the earth

(the preparing it for a higher form of life) depended upon the huge

and uncouth antediluvian monsters which devoured and trod down the

overwhelming growths of marsh and jungle.

And from that first salting of the earth, lasting through so many

ages, it is no wonder that much of the old physical recipe still

survives; and that the history of civilisation has shown us a process

in which ruthless extermination by war was regarded as the best means

of establishing God’s elect upon earth. The doctrine that force is a

remedy, or a security for moral ends, dies a slow death in the minds

of men. Institutional Christianity has, by its traditions and its

precepts, done all it could to keep it alive. We still have read to us

in our churches--for our approving acceptance--a proposition made by

the Children of Israel to a neighbouring tribe, precisely similar to

that made five years ago by Germany to Belgium. And the inference left

on the minds of Christian congregations, generation after generation,

has been that God quite approved of it (and of the ruthless devastation

which followed) as a means for making his chosen people the salt of the

earth.

It is not without significance that the Christian Church all down

the ages has allowed that sort of teaching to enter the minds of the

common people. It is not without significance that the common people

five years ago rose superior to their Bible-teaching, and regarded its

reproduction in the world of to-day as a moral outrage.

And yet if the world’s affairs, and its racial problems are to be

solved by physical force, it was a perfectly consistent thing to do;

and the inconsistency lies in our moral revolt against it.

The truth is, of course, that we are in a period of transition. We are

indignant with people who regard successful force as a justification

for wrong; but we are almost equally indignant with those who will not

regard it as a remedy for wrong. And we are slow to see that while the

school of justification by force remains rampant in the world, there

may be some chemic value for the spiritual development of the human

race in the school which denies the efficacy of remedy by force. Yet

is it not possible that as the past belongs to the one, so the future

may belong to the other?

When we started upon this war we declared that it was a war to end war;

and it was quite a popular thing to say that if it did not result in

the ending of war, then the cause of the Allies would stand defeated.

But that was only another way of saying that we should suffer defeat

if in the near future the whole world were not converted to the point

of view of the conscientious objector. But that would have been a very

unpopular way of putting it, so it was not said.

Surely this sort of contradiction in which war lands us is only another

proof that we are in an age of transition. Transition makes consistency

difficult.

But the inconsistency, which conditions of war bring into prominent

reality, lies embedded in our social system (which is itself a

compromise between two incompatible principles)--the Will to Love and

the Will to Power; and there will always be that inconsistency till

the world has definitely decided whether Love or Power is to form the

basis of our moral order. It has not decided it yet. In our own country

(leaving out all question of foreign relations) we have not decided it

yet.

It is the condition of impurity resulting from that indecision--and

permeating more or less the whole of our social organisation--which I

ask you now to consider.

How it came about is really not difficult to explain. When primitive

man began to develop the rudiments of society (the group, or the herd)

he did so mainly for self-preservation. In the struggle for existence

coordinated numbers gave him a better chance; and giving him a better

chance of life, they gave him also a better chance of self-development

and self-enjoyment. But into that early society man brought not only

his social instincts but his predatory instincts as well. And while the

group helped him to prey more effectively on those left outside, it did

not prevent him from preying in a certain measure on those within. The

exceptionally strong man had an exceptional value in his own tribe; and

he exacted an exceptional price for it--in wives, or in slaves captured

in war, or in the division of the spoil. It was the same, as society

developed, with the exceptionally resourceful leader; brain began to

count above muscle; and the men of exceptional ability acquired the

wealth. And you know perfectly well, without my going further into

detail, that out of the price exacted within the community (whose broad

interests were in common) separate and conflicting interests arose; the

interest which secured political control exacted from all the dependent

interests an unfair price for its services; and wherever slavery was an

established part of social development, man did not love his neighbour

as himself, he only loved him as his chattel.

You may take a big jump through history, from primitive to feudal, from

feudal to modern times; and you will still find the same interests

strong in every state, using their inherited control of wealth, of

organisation, and of law, to extract advantage to themselves from the

weaker, and the less educated members of the community; and always

doing it in the name of the commonwealth--the strength and stability

of the State. Only the other day (in a State as advanced as any

in its democratic faith and its doctrine of equality for all--the

United States of America) the moment there was a temporary breakdown

in the legal safeguards against child-labour--there was a great

organised rush in certain States of conscripted child-labour into

industry--conscripted not by the State but by capital, exploiting the

increased need of the wage-earning classes brought about by the raised

prices of war.

The men who do that kind of thing (and they are men of great power

and influence in the State) still only love their neighbours as their

chattels, and still take advantage of all forms of law, or absence of

law, to keep established as far as they can the conditions of social

slavery. You may say that a thing like that lies outside the law, or

that it is an abuse which legislation has not yet overtaken and put an

end to; but what is more important and more significant is that it is

an abuse which public opinion in those States where it was done had

not overtaken and put an end to, or not merely put an end to, but made

impossible. It makes it impossible for a black man over there to marry

a white woman; and if it can do the one it can do the other.

But what are those people doing? They are merely reflecting in their

own personal affairs an ideal which lies engrained in every State which

puts self-interest above the interest of the whole human race. And

that, in our present transitional stage, is the standpoint of every

country to-day. In our heart of hearts we still hold Nationalism more

important than Internationalism. And “my country right or wrong” is

still for some people the last word in morality; rather than admit

their country to be in the wrong they will let morality go.

In that matter, indeed, the world to-day seems to be divided into

two schools. There is one school which so exalts the idea of the

State as to say that the State can do no wrong: that if morality and

State-interest conflict morality must go under, or rather that morals

only exist to subserve State-interests,--and being a State-product, the

State has the right to limit their application. We are fighting to-day

against a race which is charged with having taken up that attitude;

and the pronouncements of some of its most distinguished writers, as

well as certain methods which it has employed in war, seem to bear

out the charge. But when it comes to war, that particular school of

State-ethics gives itself away by protesting that the other States

which are in hostile alliance against it are behaving very wrongly

indeed--though by its own doctrine (States being above morals) they are

incapable of wrong. It cannot stick to its own thesis.

But what are we to say if that other school, which admits that the

State can do wrong; but is not going to allow the State to be punished

for doing wrong if that State happens to be its own? It is not

that this school does not believe in punishment; it believes in it

enthusiastically, rapturously, so long as it is directed against the

wrong-doing of some other State. Punishment is good for other States,

when they do wrong; without punishment the justice of God would not

be satisfied. But for their own particular State punishment is bad,

and is no longer to be advocated. And so you may say--looking back in

history--that your country was quite wrong in waging such and such a

war; but patriotism forbids the wish in that case that right should

have prevailed and the justice of God been satisfied.

Now that school was very vocal in England during the Boer War; and I

daresay during the Opium War with China; and I daresay, also, during

the American War of Independence--very loud that we were in the wrong;

but not at all admitting, for that reason, that it would be good for us

to be beaten. But I think it should be one of our proudest boasts that,

in the long run (not immediately--not perhaps for a generation or two)

the political and moral good sense of this country goes back upon the

teaching of that school. I believe that on the whole we are glad that

we were beaten in the war with America; and that we are glad we were

beaten because we were in the wrong. And, perhaps, some day--not yet,

for our fear of the Yellow Race is still greater than our fear of any

white race you can name--but, perhaps, some day we may be sorry that we

were not beaten to a standstill in our opium war with China. (I see,

incidentally, that to-day we are addressing a sharp remonstrance to

the Chinese Government, because it is now doing that very thing which

we then compelled it to do at the point of the bayonet--permitting,

namely, the opium trade to be revived. That remonstrance only came,

however, after we had sold to China sufficient opium to last its

medical needs for 140 years!)

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