T

HOSE eminent gentlemen who have invented a whole new vocabulary in which to rephrase some of the commoner experiences of mankind have rediscovered much of interest concerning human intelligence. The experiences which they describe were quite familiar to the elder theologians worrying about the relationship between the flesh and the devil. Their language, however, would probably be quite as incomprehensible to Jonathan Edwards as his is to them. Being neither a theologian nor a psychologist, and not being particularly impressed with the cant phrases of either school, it seems to me that the conclusions of both can be summed up in very simple words.

1. What we learn as children affects our lives more strongly than anything else.

2. Most adults think in childish terms.

By HAROLD T. PULSIFER

We know that there are traditions and customs, habits and beliefs, which are transmitted directly from child to child without any help from the adult world. Boys transmit to one another the traditional time for top spinning, kite flying, Hallowe'en frolics, and the hanging of May baskets with little or no help from their elders. Their elders blissfully imagine, perhaps, that such a superficial list as this comprises most of the information which is handed from child to child. They do not realize that in this top-spinning, kite-flying world there exists a philosophy of sex and religion which is passed from childish mind to childish mind as effectively as the knowledge of the proper date to hang ticktacks on a neighbor's window. If they did, they would have long ago found the explanation of the fact that both Jove and Jehovah wear long gray whiskers, and why unreal romance is

has not gone much beyond these plain conclusions. It has not offered any

living.

formative period of character is so largely confined to childhood or why when we reach physical maturity we insist upon our childhood concepts.

I think the explanation can be found in the fact that we learn most effectively from the teachers with whom we have the most intimate contacts, and those teachers are seldom found in positions of authority in our homes, schools, or colleges.

porary teaching can be illustrated best by a simple diagram. One column represents the age of the child's most effective teachers; the other, the age of the child pupil. When the child is six, it imitates, studies, and aspires to the accomplishments of the child of seven. What the child of seven reports the child of six believes. The child of eleven looks for his knowledge of life to the child of twelve, and so on up and down the column. Below the age of fourteen

there is a vast world, self-sufficient and self-perpetuating. It is a world only indirectly influenced by the adult world, which is at once so near and so remote. Is it any wonder, therefore, that the child who learns from child continues to think like a child when, according to his physical age, he is classed as an adult? Is it any wonder that the psychological tests of the army showed that the average mental age of our population was in the neighborhood of fourteen years?

T

is difficult to search your mind and analyze its own development. You might test this theory of mine, however, by asking yourself or your friends a few leading questions.

When and how did you acquire your information concerning sex? How much has your conception of the function of sex changed since maturity?

When and how did you acquire your idea of God? How much has your conception of God changed since maturity?

Fortunate, indeed, are the children whose parents have the ability to lead them wisely and cautiously to an understanding of adult relationships. Of such parents come the children who are able to continue their mental development after the period of adolescence. During the whole period of their development their intellectual curiosity has been awakened and stimulated by glimpses of a world beyond the horizon of their own contemporaries. They are given a touch

Our most intimate teachers are those with whom we play and fight as children. Count up the number of hours which the child spends in contact with adults and compare it with the

of that divine dissatisfaction which makes leaders of men and women.

There is perhaps more of that constructive restlessness in the minds of our present young

people than has ever existed before in the history of the

AGE

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number of hours which the

world. That is why old fogies

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765

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throw up their hands in horror at the rising generation, and

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why the rest of us look forward

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with hope and delight to the

time when the scepters of the

world will pass into the hands of the youth of today.

I

VERY recently returned from a journey through Turkey. Upon

reaching the frontier my passport was taken away by a soldier canvassing the train, and was returned hours later as I neared my destination: Our State Department advises travelers to keep their passports always in their own possession, for very obvious reasons; yet even our consular officials, traveling on diplomatic passports, are compelled to hand them over to irresponsible soldiers when they enter Turkey. But let that pass. My first stop was Adana. By luck, there remain in Adana a few Americans still striving to maintain a mission hospital. For it was only through them that I learned that if I did not present myself to the local police within twenty-four hours of my arrival I should be subjected to a fineand worse. The fine might not be serious, but it is still the Turkish way, as of yore, to keep the now helpless foreigner hanging about for a fortnight or a month before he is allowed to pay his fine and ask for permission to move on. I had to present myself before the police of Adana (armed with six portraits) and spend the morning waiting for a long tissue-paper document, bearing one of said likenesses, and permitting me to proceed to my next stop, Konia.

I had twenty-four hours in Konia. It should have been amply sufficient to fulfill the purposes of my visit. Yet they were not fulfilled, for I spent virtually all my time there, except eight hours of sleeping, in the police station, being batted back and forth like a tennis ball between unobliging, indifferent, and in some cases insulting minor officials. To top off the ordeal, I waited four and a half hours for the chief of police to return from the café where he spends most of his time, since his hastily scratched initials were necessary on my travel order before I could leave town. At that I was lucky, for I frequently met foreigners in Turkey who lost the daily train or worse for lack of such scratched initials in time.

Now that his rights under the capitulations are gone, the foreigner in Turkey cannot move hand or foot without the permission of the police. Soldiers bearing huge ledgers go through every train, examining, and usually taking up, the police permits of foreigners. If one of these is out of order, due to the innocent

By HARRY A. FRANCK

CHURCHILL ETTINGER

pected to do-due to the carelessness or even the intentional malice of a bored clerk in a police station, he is hustled off the train and returned to the point of departure for trial. Even our officials holding diplomatic passports are required to report themselves to the police and ask permission to move on. No matter how great his hurry or what the reasons for his traveling, the foreigner in the "new" Turkey must report to the police within twenty-four hours after his arrival and before his departure at any stopping-place in the country.

milling about with all other classes of foreigners, awaiting the good will of the indifferent petty officials behind the ratholes that serve as wickets. Ladies were being jostled about in a way that no civilized woman should be; no favors whatever were shown them in the mêlée. This time eight portraits were required; and late in the afternoon I received permission to move on to the next town in my itinerary. There the same story repeated itself. When I returned to Angora a week later and reported, asking for permission to proceed to Constantinople, eight more portraits, to say nothing of a similar length of time and further football tactics, were required. One gets the impression that Kemal must have a fad of papering the walls of his bungalow in a rocky gorge above the new capital at Angora with the portraits of distressed foreigners.

so countries I have visited, I asked for reasons. Foreigners were not allowed there, was all the explanation I was vouchsafed. The same short shrift was given my request to go to Kharpoot, Diarbekir, Van, Kars. The eastern end of Anatolia, the Asiatic region that is almost all that is left to Turkey, was tight closed against prying foreigners of whatever class or motive.

An anti-Kemalist and several Americans of long residence in the country at length confided the reason to me. In spite of a censorship unequaled in Western countries even in war times, the fact had leaked through that new massacres had been going on for some time in that part of the country. This time it was the Kurds who were in trouble. The Turks are natural bullies; they must have some one to pick on. The Greeks and Armenians and other Christians being virtually gone, they had fallen upon a racial minority of their own faith. Incredible as it may sound, the reason for the massacres this time was that some of the Kurds had refused to do away with the fez and adopt European headdress. Something in their own peculiar brand of religion makes this

sacrilegious, and they were being hanged, deported, and their property confiscated -this last the main reason always for Turkish atrocities-on the charge of rebelling against the Kemal Government. We heard of the massacres of the Greeks and the Armenians; they had friends in the outside world and propaganda bureaus from which to make their wrongs heard. The Kurds, having none of these things, die silent martyrs.

Most of the American and other Christian missionaries have left Turkey. The few mission schools that remain must give only those subjects approved by the Kemal Government. The Government not merely specifies the curriculum, but names the holidays, requires the appointment of certain Turkish teachers, names the salary that must be paid them, and forbids absolutely anything even mildly suggestive of proselyting. To so much as show a Testament to a Turkish pupil is illegal. The superintendent of schools at Tarsus ordered the American boys' school there to hold classes on Sunday, to use the Koran instead of the Bible, and to conform to several other arbitrarv religious rules. A few mission hospitals are still

functioning, but the interference from the Turkish authorities is intense. Most of the few missionaries who remain are merely waiting and marking time in the largely vain hope that they will get permission again to work for the good of the masses.

THE

HERE is an American missionary woman who has been all alone in the southeastern part of Anatolia for years. Her mission board has tried hard and long to get permission to send another worker to relieve her, or at least to bear her company, but without success. She might be allowed to leave, but only on condition of abandoning all the mission property and most of her own.

She is allowed to write letters only in Turkish, and something like one in ten even in that language reach their destination. It is hardly necessary to add that she is within hearing distance of the Kurd massacres.

The American hospital at Marsivan was closed by order of Mustapha Kemal because the American director said within hearing of some spy that, while no one objected to democracy in Turkey, it was impossible to establish a

democracy by wholesale hangings and other dictatorial acts. Fifteen professors of an American mission school were hanged because the authorities found a photograph in the school showing a football team of boys in blue and white (the Greek colors) sweaters and with the Greek as well as the Turkish flag flying above them. It had been taken years before at the time of a match between students representing the two nationalities.

Like the missionaries, commercial men are leaving Turkey. They cannot compete with the new monopolies, abetted by the grafting and the dilatory, unfair, unbusinesslike ways of the present Government. The Constantinople representative of one of our large tobacco companies has been months withdrawing his firm from the country, and the end has by no means arrived. Three times he had unpacked his office furniture, which he planned to move to Greece, for inspection, when last I saw him, and still had little hope of getting out when I left. An Englishman who held the lightering contracts with most foreign ships touching at Constantinople was forced more than a year ago to work exclu

sively for the harbor monopoly, and at last accounts had not received a piaster for his services.

In the old days the Sultans rewarded their favorites by farming out the taxes among them and permitting them to keep a large proportion of the collections. While taxes are far worse now than under the Sultans-being ubiquitous, arbitrary, yet bringing the people by no means benefits in proportion-the new stunt is the granting of monopolies. The present Government, disguised under the name of republic, is a closed corporation of a score or so of men close to Kemal. Most of them have done things which make it impossible safely to break with the dictator, however much they may wish to do so. These worthy Kemalists of high rank are given monopolies on many of the things of prime necessity. There are monopolies cn almost everything-salt, sugar, tobacco, liquor, harbor rights, radio, even bathing; it is illegal to go swimming in Turkey except from an authorized bathhouse, after paying the corresponding fee to the monopolist. The poor hamals, or human pack-horses, that one still sees carrying atrocious loads in Constanti

nople and other parts of Turkey now

toil for bare food, while the profits of their grueling labors go to the political favorite who holds the hamal monopoly. Under the Sultans many of them (Kurds to a large extent) laid aside

what to them were fortunes and went home to spend the last years of their lives in ease.

BE

E not led astray by the surface of things in the "new" Turkey. The present régime is eager to be considered progressive; it does not wish to be blamed for the crimes of the former régime. But the leopard does not change his spots as easily as a Turk does his headgear. There has been much pro-Turk-or more exactly, pro-Kemal -propaganda since Turkey changed the form, and the form only, of her Government. Kemal and his entourage know enough of Western psychology to realize the appeal of the romantic to the world at large, and our papers have been flooded with reports of the completely Europeanized condition of the Turkey of today, of the striking character of her new sultan under the name of President. But the Turk is still much what he was, and there is little evidence that Turkey has essentially changed under that ardent disciple of Venus and Bacchus, Mustapha Kemal Pasha. It is true that there are more and better schools, that more attention is being given to sanitation, that marriage and divorce laws are more on Western lines, that polygamy has been legally abolished, that Turkey has adopted the Swiss Civil Code and the Italian Criminal Code. But the arbitrary rule of a dictator, a wholly ruthless dictator, is still the real Government. The tourists who make up some ninety-five per cent of American travelers in Turkey come back reporting that the veil has virtually disappeared. So it has in Constantinople, the only place tourists see; also in Angora and among the women of the official class. But the great majority of feminine faces the country over are still covered; and the "new" Turkey is in a similar state, still largely what it was under the vicious and degenerate Sultans.

Never was there such a furor of hero worship as is now being poured out upon "the Gazi" (roughly translatable as "the conqueror"), as Mustapha Kemal is known among his people. Every Government office, every schoolroom in the country, even mission schools, must have a framed picture of Kemal in the place of honor. Bronze statues of Kemal are

ONLY A LOAD OF BRICKS
The Turkish hamal, or porter, now
earns a bare sustenance, because
the bulk of his earnings goes to the
monoply belonging to a few friends
of Kemal

springing up all over the country. The same amount expended on schools or roads would bring a great improvement in Turkey. When "the Gazi" came to spend this summer in one of the former Sultan's palaces on the Bosphorus, Constantinople and the towns along the way from Angora spent enough in decorations and other evidences of high regard for him to have completely built the new capital. The electric-light company of Constantinople expects fifty per cent increase in this year's business because of the few days of special illumination in his honor. Yet these statues and the

LA

AST week we published Mr. Merritt's account of his political investigations in Tennessee and Kentucky. At present he is traveling in the Gulf States, and later he will cover the seaboard. His observations will be published in succeeding issues.

His articles express the ideas of the farmers and business men with whom he talks. In combination with the opinions of leading Southern editors outlined in this issue by Mr. Crawford, they will give a more or less complete survey of the political situation in the South as far as Al Smith is concerned.

like are by no means all good-will offerings. The Kemal custom of summary trials and sudden hangings in the cold gray dawn for all those of whatever class who open their mouths against him has given the surface appearance of a happy and contented Turkey under an adored ruler. But the patient traveler who will take time to win a little confidence will hear anything but contentment from the anti-Kemalists, who dare not raise their voices in public.

IN

N this brief space only a few outstanding hints of the wrongs still being perpetrated in Turkey can be mentioned. A complete inventory would take many pages. Certainly the three reasons enumerated by those opposed to the signing of the Lausanne Treaty are as much in evidence as ever. Kemal has done nothing whatever to make reparation to the Armenian republic he was mainly instrumental in strangling; on the contrary, it is largely he who has made so difficult the task of the Near East Relief in bringing many thousands of Armenian orphans through to productiveness and self-support. Unless the new left-handed understanding with Turkey contains features of which we have heard nothing, guaranties for the protection of Americans in Turkey are as lacking as ever. Personally, I should far rather trust myself to the Chinese if and when our extraterritorial rights cease to exist there than to the Turks without the protection of the capitulations. As to the "failure to provide for recognition by Turkey of the American nationality of former Turkish subjects," any Greek or Armenian born in Turkey who dares to venture back there under the supposed protection of an American passport lives, if at all, to regret it. The proof of birthplace he must have produced before being naturalized means nothing whatever to the Turks; he must show new proof, just as if our State Department were a "gyp" concern selling its documents at so much a head to any one with the money. And I have met personally former Christian subjects of Turkey whose American passports have been torn up before their faces by Turkish police, and who are henceforth unable to leave Kemal's kingdom. Possibly a certified accountant could show that the sum total shows some improve ment over Sultanic days in the Turkey of Kemal. But the Turk of today and the "new" Turkey are still by no means worthy of our extending to them the right hand of friendship and forgiveness