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springs of tremendous energy. Whether acting for good or evil, they generate great forces which control conduct and make history.

We have seen that subordination is necessary for discipline, but the subordination required in military training is a mild form of self-abasement compared with the abject submission evidenced by the slinking and crestfallen pup in the presence of an imposing strange dog. We have no use for such subserviency. In military life, selfabasement takes the form of subordination to the purpose of the group. When it goes farther, it is anti-military.

The difference between the pacifist and militarist is fundamentally a difference of instincts. Whether we are one or the other at any time depends upon the result of a conflict between rival instincts. While the instinct of self-abasement dominates, we are for peace at any price. In a contest on one side between the instincts which find their highest satisfaction in personal security and enjoyment and the instincts which find satisfaction in defending and caring for the group, we are pacifists or militarists according as the first or second rival group dominates. We may change from time to time, or become permanent in either fold.

During a long peace, when the nation makes few demands upon citizens for service, the per

sonal instincts develop in great freedom. The citizens gratify them by acquiring properties, building up business and families, and indulging in the soft pleasures of life. The instincts grow as they are fed. Rival instincts that have no inning atrophy. Safety for self and personal belongings become first desires. The old Calvinist who prayed, "God bless me, my wife, my son John and his wife, us four and no more," probably hated war and service for a larger group than his prayer indicated. The safety and freedom of the smaller groups depend upon the safety and freedom of the large group, which is the Nation. The safety of the State should be logically the first desire of its citizens, because that lost, the foundation of personal freedom is endangered. We all acclaim "safety first." In doing this we may mean either the safety of our little selves or the safety of the greater unity of which we are a part-the Nation. Our attitude depends upon which instincts have the upper hand. If pugnacity, self-assertion, subordination to the group, and the social desires dominate, we are not pacifists in the hour of national danger. Against a strong and aggressive enemy, every nation fails when its people cease to be moved and controlled by these great instincts.

XI

GREGARIOUSNESS AND FEAR

TH

I. GREGARIOUSNESS

HE explanation of human behavior is not simple, because man is so richly endowed with original tendencies and acquires so many others that it is difficult to analyze any situation, and say how many and what the tendencies are which have united to cause it. We have seen that the instincts of pugnacity and self-assertion are called into play to aid or reinforce some other instinct, and that the idea of loyalty is developed in a union of the various instincts when men get together for the common purpose of defense.

The social desire is common in men and animals. We are familiar with the fact that among animals that herd, if one becomes separated from the rest he displays distress until he finds and rejoins his mates. We see evidence of something like this instinct among men. With few excep

tions the one essential condition of recreation seems to be being one of a crowd. The Harvard

and Yale football games exert great fascination, because all who attend are concerned with the same object and are moved by a common emotion. Our emotions are intensified and their enjoyment increased by sharing them with our fellows. Professor James says that the love of festivities, ceremonies, ordeals, etc., is universal:

"The lower savages have their dances, more or less formally conducted. The various religions have their solemn rites and exercises, and civic and military power symbolize their grandeur by processions and celebrations of diverse sorts. We have our operas and parties and masquerades. An element common to all these ceremonial games, as they may be called, is the excitement of concerted action as one of an organized crowd. The same acts performed with a crowd seem to mean vastly more than when performed alone. A walk with the people on a holiday afternoon, an excursion to drink beer or coffee at a popular resort, or an ordinary ballroom, are examples of this. Not only are we amused at seeing so many strangers, but there is a distinct stimulation at feeling our share in their collective life. The perception of them is the stimulus; and our reaction upon it is our tendency to join them and do what they are doing, and our unwillingness to be the first to leave off and go home alone. This seems a primitive element in our nature; it is difficult to

trace any association of ideas that could lead up to it; although, once granting it to exist, it is very easy to see what its uses to a tribe might be in facilitating prompt and vigorous collective action. The formation of armies and the undertaking of military expeditions would be among its fruits." This desire is the basic cause of all military ceremonies. Soldiers feel a satisfaction in performing together, especially where each is conscious of the presence of his comrades, all uniting their individual efforts to perfect the work of the organization. A single exhibition well performed draws all members into a sense of unity with their kind, and into a recognition of the organization as a unity to be served, and whose cause each is attempting to advance.

A little boy said to his mother, "Why do military bands and soldiers marching always make me feel better than I am?" The boy was speaking of an emotion which is primary and irreducible. I love to march behind the Eighth Regiment Drum Corps; the cadence of marching feet, the rattle of changing arms, and even the rhythmic swish of clothing, together with the consciousness that I am performing and enjoying with others, make me feel as the little boy felt, that I am better than I am. Unlike the little boy, however, I do not ask questions, but try to look a modest hero and enjoy myself. On the intellec

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