DISCIPLINE
LACK OF EXTERNAL DISCIPLINE IN AMERICA—A FREE DISCIPLINE NEEDED—MUST
BE BASED ON PURPOSE—RÔLE OF THE COMMUNITY AND THE STATE—AN IDEAL
OF DEMOCRATIC DISCIPLINE
That American life, at least in times of peace, lacks external
discipline is grossly apparent. There is a wide-spread want of that
demeanor ordered by the sense of some higher whole, which gives purpose,
alertness, and dignity to personal behavior. Our society is full of
people, of all ages and classes, who have more liberty, in the sense of
unrestriction, than they know how to use. Having emancipated themselves
from restraint and lacking worthy ideals of what to do next, they spend
themselves in crude and inept behavior, not definitely harmful, perhaps,
but disgusting from the state of mind it displays.
I am inclined to think there is something deceptive about this apparent
laxity, and that the American compares well in real self-control with
the individual of more orderly societies. I feel quite sure from my own
observation that Germans, for example, young and old, give way to unruly
impulses more readily than Americans; indeed a German scholar, resident
in America, has fixed upon self-possession as our most distinctive
trait.[37] What we lack is external decorum and the marshalling of
individual self-controls into definite and visible forms of service.
American life is slipshod rather than anarchic.
Evidently what we need, what the whole world needs, is the growth of a
free type of discipline, based on emulation in service rather than on
coercion and mechanism. This, if you can get it, is more truly
disciplinary than anything external; it takes hold of the individual by
his higher impulses, and leads him to identify his very self with the
whole he serves. One great task laid upon us is to justify democracy by
proving that it has a constructive and disciplinary energy and is by no
means the mere individualism and spiritual disorder that its enemies
have charged.
I should say that of two societies suffering equally, one from too
little external discipline, and the other from too much, the former was
in a more hopeful condition. It is, other things equal, more adaptable,
in an earlier and more plastic stage of development. If the people are
not lacking in constructive power you may expect them to develop as much
discipline as they need. But a well-developed formalism, on the other
hand, is a mature, rigid thing, not likely to transform itself into
freedom by a gradual process, capable of reform only through revolution.
A free discipline is based upon a purpose; that is, the individual must
have an object which means so much to him that he will control and guide
his wayward impulses in its interest. Of the power of patriotism to do
this, in times of national stress and awakening, we have seen memorable
examples. It would be superficial, however, to imagine that it can be
secured by compulsory military training in times when the people are not
convinced of the imminence of military danger. The disciplinary value of
such training in Europe has been due to the fact that the people, on the
whole, have believed in it, regarding it as the instrument of patriotic
defense against the attack which they were taught to look upon as always
impending. I should say that only in so far as our future situation is
similar, can military preparation play a vital part in it. If the world
becomes peaceful, then peaceful service must be the motive of
discipline, though it may well include a training capable of being
turned to military use.
We get discipline from the activities that take hold of us because they
are real and functional. There is much of it in school, if the teaching
and atmosphere are such that the scholars put themselves into the work.
The home life also supplies it, in so far as it awakens a similar
spirit; and one underlying reason for the partial decay of discipline
among us is the fact that the family has so largely ceased to have
active and definite functions, requiring the co-operation of all the
members, and so impressing upon them a spirit of loyalty and service. It
is for this reason that we so commonly see a better discipline in the
hard-working families of the farming and laboring classes than among
people whose life is less strenuous.
There is no more effective means of discipline, in its province, than
organized play, mainly because it is voluntary and joyous, so that the
individual is eager to put himself into it, while at the same time it
requires perseverance and team-work. The chief objection to it, as we
have it in America, is the spectacular character it often has, the
multitude looking on with a vicarious and sterile excitement at the
performance of the few who alone get the discipline, which is itself
impaired by the excessive publicity.
Women most commonly get their serious discipline from the care of the
household and children, and we see girls who have grown up frivolously
in well-to-do families transformed by the responsibilities that follow
marriage. For young men bread-winning work is a great disciplinary
agent. The struggle to “make good” in trade, business, or profession,
and establish one’s right to the respect of his fellows and to a home
and family of his own, provides an object, commonly somewhat difficult
to attain, for the sake of which one must learn steadfastness and
self-control. This economic discipline is, on the whole, an admirable
thing in its way, and might be greatly extended and improved by a more
regular and adequate training, in the schools and after, and by the
development of occupational groups. At the best, however, a discipline
based merely on the purpose to make an income and position must be of a
somewhat narrow character, not necessarily leading up to any compelling
sense of loyalty to the community, the state, or mankind.
The problem of discipline and the problem of ideals are much the same.
If we can awaken in ourselves a social and socially religious spirit and
ideal, our discipline will come by the endeavor to give this spirit and
ideal expression.
Our great lack, as regards higher discipline, has been that we have had
no habitual and moving vision of our State. There has been a great deal
of a vague kind of patriotism, but it has generally lacked specific
ideal, purpose, and form. The ingrained habit of regarding government as
a minor part of life, a necessary evil, and the pursuit of second-rate
men, has diverted the spiritual energies of our people from public
channels, not only impairing our national life and discrediting
democracy, but leaving the individual without that sense of public
function which his own character requires. The religious ardor which men
willingly give to their country when they feel their identity with it is
the noblest basis for discipline, and it remains for us to find a means
of arousing this other than the gross and obsolescent one of threatened
war. We need, along with the growth of freedom and enlightenment, a
growing vision of the nation as the incarnation of our ideal, as an
upbuilder of great enterprises, as a friend and benefactor of other
nations, and as an honorable contestant in an international struggle for
leadership in industry, science, art, and every sort of higher service.
This might, perhaps, be made the motive for some sort of universal
service and training in connection with the schools, which should be as
peaceful in spirit as the times permit, though capable of taking a
warlike direction if necessary. What a state like Germany has done by
the aid of militarism and bureaucracy, yet with a large measure of
success, we ought to do in our own way, and do much better.
Our discipline needs to be as diverse as our society. A well-organized
plan of life should embrace a system of disciplinary groups
corresponding to the chief aspects of human endeavor, each one
surrounding the individual with an atmosphere of emulation and with
ideals of a particular sort. Democracy should not mean uniformity, but
the fullest measure of differentiation, a development everywhere of
special spirits—in communities, in occupations, in culture groups, in
distinctive personalities.
The ideal discipline for democracy, I think, is one that trusts
unreservedly to the democratic principle. It should begin in the family
by making the life as intimate and co-operative as possible, so that the
children may get the group feeling and become accustomed to act in view
of group purposes and ideals. Their training should come through
service, self-respect, and example, with as little coercion as possible.
In the schools, of all grades, control through self-government and
public opinion will probably more and more take the place of mechanism
and punishment, and the same plan will be applied to corrective
institutions. In the field of play spontaneous groups under wholesome
influences—boys’ and girls’ clubs, Boy Scouts, and the like—are capable
of an extension which shall bring the whole youth of the land under the
sway of their admirable discipline. And so in colleges; it seems to me
that we can better get what we want, in the way of health, bearing,
self-control, and capacity to meet military and other requirements, if
we work mainly through influence, example, and voluntary forms of
organization. Except in times of urgent crisis the sentiment of students
will resent compulsion and render it more or less ineffective.
It is the same in public life, in economic relations, and in every kind
of organization. We shall, in general, get a better discipline by
trusting democracy more rather than less, provided this trust is not
merely passive but includes a vigorous use of educative methods. Even
now, if the test of discipline is self-control, and the power to
function responsibly in behalf of any purpose the group may adopt, I
question whether we have not shown ourselves as well disciplined as any
people. In so far as we have honestly and thoroughly applied the
democratic idea it has not failed us.
_PART III_
DEGENERATION