第1章
The Pursuit of Power: How Human Impulses Shape Our World
What drives men to fight? What makes us choose destruction over creation? These are the questions that consumed Bertrand Russell as he watched the Great War devour Europe's youth. Written in 1915 amid mounting casualties, "Why Men Fight" represents Russell's most profound contribution to political philosophy-a work that emerged from his own painful disillusionment with humanity's eagerness for war. The book became an instant sensation among intellectuals, pacifists, and radical politicians, who flocked to Russell's London lectures seeking answers to civilization's apparent self-destruction. Even as the British establishment labeled him a pariah for his anti-war stance, American publishers eagerly sought his work, recognizing its revolutionary potential. This philosophical testament-influenced by William James's writings on aggression but pushing far beyond them-offers a vision of society built not on possessive impulses that lead to war, but on creative impulses that foster life.
第2章
The Primacy of Impulse in Human Affairs
Traditional political philosophy has long focused on rational purpose as the primary driver of human behavior. Russell boldly challenges this assumption, arguing that impulse-not conscious purpose-fundamentally shapes our lives. The war revealed to him how readily people accept inadequate justifications for violence, not through rational calculation but because these justifications align with their subconscious impulses. When we examine our own behavior honestly, we find that much of what we do stems not from reasoned purpose but from direct impulse-children run and shout not to achieve any goal but from sheer impulse. Adults often disguise this reality, developing elaborate justifications for actions driven by impulse rather than reason.
This insight transforms our understanding of political problems. If war springs from impulse rather than reason, then mere rational arguments for peace will never suffice. As Russell memorably puts it, "only passion can control passion." The solution isn't simply more rational thought but a transformation of our impulsive life toward impulses antagonistic to war.
Those who resist war's passions aren't, as their critics claim, bloodless intellectuals devoid of feeling. Rather, they possess unusually strong life-affirming impulses-artistic and scientific drives, love, constructiveness, and joy of life-that counteract war's death impulses. Unfortunately, modern social conditions systematically enfeeble these life forces. Our institutions rest on injustice and authority, requiring closed hearts and minds to endure. Our economic system forces most people to pursue others' purposes rather than their own. These unnecessary conditions destroy both community vigor and individual affections, but could be ended through wisdom and courage.
What if we reimagined society around a central principle of growth? Each person possesses an intimate center that determines their potential excellence. Social institutions at their best make individual growth free and vigorous rather than forcing conformity. The impulses harmful to others typically result from thwarted growth rather than free development. Like trees needing the right soil and freedom, humans require appropriate conditions-though immeasurably more complex ones-to flourish.
第3章
The Struggle Between Authority and Freedom
Modern growth is hampered by institutions inherited from simpler ages. All our institutions historically rest on Authority-from Oriental despots to kings, nobles, and patriarchs. Medieval institutions allowed only a fortunate few to develop freely, yet remained organic because authority was genuinely respected and submission voluntary. This system broke down through failure to satisfy demands for justice and liberty.
The first serious breach in medieval authority came through Luther's assertion of private judgment and the fallibility of General Councils, eventually leading to religious freedom. This pattern-from extreme individualism to strife and potentially to new reintegration-appears in almost every department of life. Nationalism followed a similar trajectory. In theory, nationalism holds that men naturally form nations that should each have their own government. But in practice, oppressed nationalists claim not only this principle but also moral superiority over their oppressors. When they gain freedom, they almost inevitably oppress smaller nations within their borders.
Germany exemplifies this pattern perfectly. Early 18th century German culture was French-dominated with little national consciousness. Great cultural achievements created German self-respect, but political nationalism only arose through Napoleon's oppression. After centuries of foreign invasions, Germans discovered through unity they could defend themselves. But this defensive movement transformed into aggression and conquest a hundred years later.
Good relations between individuals come primarily from instinctive liking and common purpose. Men differ enormously in their capacity for instinctive liking. Carlyle, in later life, found most people repulsive, which led him to belittle ordinary men and glorify destructive figures. Walt Whitman, conversely, felt warm delight toward almost everyone, leading to optimism, belief in democracy, and conviction that peaceful coexistence is natural. A world of Whitmans would certainly be happier than one of Carlyles.
第4章
The State as Instrument of Collective Force
The State represents the collective force of its citizens, expressed internally through law enforcement and externally through war-making power. In civilized States, force against citizens follows predetermined rules (criminal law), while force against foreigners follows no code and serves only national interest. The State's power is limited only by fear of rebellion internally and defeat in war externally. Otherwise, it's absolute-seizing property through taxation, determining marriage laws, punishing dissenting opinions, executing citizens for territorial loyalty to another state, and conscripting men for war.
Universal military service exemplifies State power and its double standard-punishing both those who kill compatriots and those who refuse to kill foreigners, with the latter considered worse. The absurdity of war goes unnoticed by those caught in its cycle of instincts. Artists and musicians from opposing nations are forced to try killing each other rather than declaring mutual neutrality. If they refused to fight, their own countries would execute them. This is madness-their neutrality would benefit humanity, but the State's power makes this impossible.
The State wields power not just through laws but through public opinion. Through oratory and press influence, it creates tyrannical public opinion that threatens liberty as much as tyrannical laws. A conscientious objector facing employment dismissal, public insults, social ostracism, and rejection by women may find these penalties as severe as a death sentence.
Traditional obedience to the State stemmed from loyalty to the sovereign, but this has decayed except in places like Japan and Russia. Tribal feeling, which underlaid this loyalty, remains strong and now primarily supports State power. The State's strength stems primarily from two reasonable fears: internal crime and anarchy, and external aggression. Fear of external danger compounds internal fears. States seek to minimize invasion risk through armaments, but these weapons can also be used offensively. Thus, means to reduce external fear actually increase it and enhance war's destructiveness.
第5章
The Religious Nature of Patriotism
Patriotism represents a multifaceted phenomenon that interweaves basic human instincts with sophisticated intellectual frameworks. At its foundation lies the natural love of home and family, extending outward to include an innate preference for those who share our language, customs, and daily experiences. This attachment manifests in numerous ways: pride in local achievements, celebration of shared traditions, and a deep-seated belief that one's nation embodies fundamental human values and aspirations. The emotional core of patriotism often transcends rational analysis, transforming into something akin to religious devotion.
This quasi-religious dimension of patriotism manifests in ritual and sacrifice, much like traditional faith. Citizens willingly offer their lives in military service, contribute their wealth through taxation, and subordinate personal interests to national goals. During times of crisis, individuals experience an almost mystical dissolution of self into the greater national identity, finding meaning and purpose in collective struggle. This phenomenon explains why rational arguments often fail against patriotic fervor - it operates on a deeper, more primal level of human consciousness.
Educational systems play a crucial role in cultivating patriotic sentiment. Schools carefully curate historical narratives, emphasizing national triumphs while minimizing failures. Children learn creation myths about their country's founding, heroic tales of national figures, and carefully selected versions of historical events. This systematic indoctrination creates an almost universal conviction of national superiority, enabling citizens to endure tremendous hardships in service of the state. During wartime, this cultivated patriotism transforms ordinary citizens into willing participants in national sacrifice.
However, patriotism's religious character contains inherent flaws. Unlike universal religions that promote worldwide brotherhood, patriotic devotion remains strictly bounded by national borders. The more intensely patriotic a population becomes, the more likely they are to disregard or dehumanize those outside their national group. This paradox creates a zero-sum game where one nation's patriotic triumph often requires another's suffering or defeat.
Modern forces increasingly challenge traditional patriotic sentiment. Global communication and travel foster cosmopolitan perspectives that transcend national boundaries. Individualism grows stronger as education levels rise, encouraging people to question accidents of birth determining national loyalty. Meanwhile, anti-capitalist movements expose how state structures often protect wealthy interests rather than serving the general population. These critics highlight how international conflicts frequently advance corporate profits rather than genuine national interests.
The State's most pernicious effect lies in its cultivation of military efficiency. As nations engage in arms races, each increase in military capability prompts corresponding increases elsewhere, creating a dangerous spiral while leaving relative power unchanged. Modern states effectively suppress internal violence while paradoxically facilitating massive external destruction. Furthermore, the sheer scale of modern nation-states creates a profound sense of individual powerlessness. Citizens who oppose state policies face nearly insurmountable obstacles to affecting change, leading to widespread political apathy reminiscent of the late Roman Empire's decline.
第6章
War as a Permanent Institution
In every civilized country, two forces produce war. In ordinary times, a small proportion of the population-typically educated men aware of international affairs-are bellicose. When war approaches, war-fever seizes the population, and the bellicose find themselves enthusiastically supported by all but an insignificant minority.
German policy before the war exemplifies this psychology: German leaders were intensely patriotic, considering only Germany's interests regardless of damage to other nations or civilization itself. Their conception of national welfare was primarily competitive, valuing not Germany's intrinsic wealth but its standing relative to other countries. Germans envied French civilization and British political liberty, correctly judging that war would destroy what was best in these countries even if they weren't defeated. They particularly coveted British power and wealth-naval command and industrial supremacy-feeling their superior organization, intelligence, and knowledge deserved greater rewards.
England's insistence on maintaining the status quo contributed to the war. By defending our imperial conquests and refusing to yield colonies to Germany without threat of force, we showed we shared their imperialist standards. In a world where nations grow and decay, maintaining the status quo forever is neither possible nor desirable. Peace requires nations to accept unfavorable map alterations without feeling defeated or humiliated.
War fever arises from both irrational impulses and quasi-rational calculation. The influential men who drive nations are motivated by threefold desire: exercising their faculties, overcoming resistance, and gaining respect. Ordinary men with unadventurous lives find in national conflict a vicarious outlet for repressed primitive passions. The rational element is the belief in victory-nations rarely succumb to war fever when defeat seems likely.
Many impulses leading to war-imagination, adventure, conflict, solidarity-are essential to vigorous, progressive societies. The challenge is preserving these impulses without destructive outcomes. The same vital energy producing civilization's greatest achievements also produces war. Pacifism must channel this vigor into humane endeavors rather than merely expressing lack of force.
第7章
The Tyranny of Money Worship
Gissing's novels accurately portray money's dominion over society, where characters sacrifice love for financial security. This worship of money stems from inward defeat and the decay of life, creating a cycle where material goods become a substitute for genuine happiness. Unlike the artist or lover whose desires are specific and self-created, the money-worshipper views happiness as passive enjoyment derived externally. This belief that all values can be measured in money has led to widespread diminution of joy and vitality.
Money worship takes different forms across nations. Americans pursue wealth beyond reasonable needs. The English postpone marriage and limit families to maintain social status, sacrificing passion and vitality for respectability. In France, the worship of money manifests as thrift, with the rentier strengthening diplomacy but weakening population growth. Germans have recently adopted money worship with characteristic intensity, associating it with State service rather than family.
When judging industrial systems, we should consider four tests: maximum production, just distribution, tolerable existence for producers, and freedom for vitality and progress. The current system aims primarily at the first, while socialism targets the second and third. The fourth criterion is most important, yet both capitalism and orthodox socialism may prove fatal to it. Our obsession with increasing production has become irrationally fanatical, turning attention away from more important human problems.
Our current industrial system wastes human material through damage to workers' health and efficiency, particularly affecting women and children. Cities become centers of race-deterioration, while natural resources are recklessly depleted. Our distribution system is indefensible, regulated by laws that could be changed. The right to the produce of one's own labor has never had more than limited legal recognition. Interest arises naturally when private property exists, but the power of lending money gives capitalists such influence that it requires strict control. Private land ownership has no justification except historical conquest-powerful men forced others off land, then made them serfs or renters.
第8章
Education as a Political Weapon
Education typically serves existing institutions rather than children's interests. Parents and teachers unconsciously transmit their beliefs to malleable young minds. Threatened institutions control education to instill respect for themselves, while reformers try to seize this advantage. Neither side considers children as more than recruitment material. If we respected children's rights, we would educate them to form independent opinions rather than predetermined ones.
Justice and liberty alone are insufficient principles for education. Equal rights cannot fully apply to children, and liberty's negative principle needs supplementing with a positive vision of the good life. Education requires some authority, but this must be exercised with reverence. Those without reverence try to "mould" children into unnatural shapes, causing spiritual dissatisfactions that breed cruelty and envy. The reverent educator sees in children something sacred and precious-the growing principle of life-and seeks to help them in their own battle rather than imposing external ends.
States, Churches and institutions conduct education without reverence, focusing on maintaining the existing order and worldly success. Almost all education has a political motive-strengthening some group in competition with others-which determines subjects taught and mental habits encouraged. Little fosters inward growth of mind and spirit, leaving many educated people mentally atrophied. While teaching reading, writing and professional knowledge remains necessary, instruction in controversial subjects like history and religion is actively harmful, designed to magnify one's country and instill nationalist pride through distortions and suppressions that encourage strife.
Advanced education harbors subtler evils, with institutions like Eton and Oxford imposing a worship of "Good form" as destructive to thought as the medieval Church. Education currently instills obedience, ruthlessness for worldly success, contempt toward opposing groups, and unquestioning credulity-all habits against life. Instead, we should preserve independence, develop justice in thought, instill reverence and understanding, and stimulate constructive doubt. The fundamental problem is treating education as power over pupils rather than nourishment for growth.
第9章
Marriage and the Population Crisis
The Christian influence on marriage persists strongly even as religious belief has declined throughout Europe. The current English marriage system treats matrimony as a lifelong institution that can only be dissolved under strict conditions involving adultery, with divorce practically available only to the wealthy. The law embodies the Church of England's views that sexual intercourse outside marriage is sin, that resentment of adultery is righteous, and that only this resentment justifies ending a marriage.
The result is widespread but flimsy hypocrisy that forbids only public infractions of the marriage code. One cannot live openly with someone who isn't their spouse, have children out of wedlock, or get divorced-but otherwise practical freedom exists. This system doesn't prevent pleasure but sacrifices children, honesty, and shared lives. The penalties fall unevenly across society: actors, journalists, urban working men and increasingly women face minimal consequences, while professional men face ruin.
Within marriage, economic pressures and women's growing freedom are leading to smaller families, particularly among the responsible and educated. A singular selective birth-rate is emerging: populations in France and England are becoming stationary, with middle-class and skilled artisans dwindling while the very poor, the shiftless, and feeble-minded increase. The Catholic populations also increase as their religion forbids family limitation. Within dwindling classes, the best elements decline fastest-working-class boys of exceptional ability rise to professional classes but marry late and have smaller families, while intelligent professional women increasingly avoid or delay motherhood.
This threatens a rapid deterioration in the character of civilized populations within generations. The population decline will likely rectify itself through the elimination of characteristics leading to small birth-rates. Those who believe Catholic doctrines will have biological advantage, gradually producing a race impervious to reason. Women with mental interests in art, literature, politics or careers will grow rarer, replaced by maternal types with no interests beyond home.
第10章
The Search for a New Religious Spirit
Almost all changes since the Middle Ages stem from new knowledge, causing the Renaissance, Reformation, industrial revolution, and decay of dogmatic religion. Classical studies, Copernican astronomy, Darwinian biology, and comparative anthropology have each dismantled parts of Catholic dogma. Churches' political conservatism has spread free thought among working classes who might otherwise have remained orthodox.
Religion combines personal and social elements-primarily personal for Protestants, social for Catholics. Only when intimately blended does religion powerfully mold society. The medieval Catholic Church achieved this impossible-seeming blend of Christ and Caesar, combining humble submission with Imperial Rome's pride. Yet this perfection was narrow-instinct, mind and spirit were curtailed to fit the pattern, laymen resented Church authority, and the Church used power oppressively. This perfect synthesis opposed new growth, and after Dante, everything living first had to fight against the old order-a battle continuing today.
The clergy suffers from two problems: the convention that they exceed others in virtue, and the corrupting influence of endowments. Any group told it excels in virtue tends to sink below average. Meanwhile, property available only to those supporting an established institution warps judgment about that institution's excellence. For religion to avoid harm in a rapidly changing world, it must follow the Society of Friends' model-carried on by people with other occupations who perform religious work from enthusiasm without payment.
A new spirit cannot come through traditional believers who look backward for inspiration. Christ's teaching, though admirable, remains inadequate for modern issues, ignoring art, intellect, and governance. For religion to reconquer free-minded people, we need a morality of initiative rather than submission, hope rather than fear, things to be done rather than avoided. The world is ours to create heaven if we had courage and insight.
第11章
Creating a Better World Through Creative Impulse
The question of what we can do for the world while we live confronts those who wish to serve mankind but feel perplexed by their seemingly infinitesimal power. We cannot quickly cure the world's evils through ordinary politics, but must recognize that change of spirit takes time. The ultimate power of vital thought is far greater than it appears-religious toleration, democracy, socialism, and women's rights all began with a handful of isolated thinkers before transforming society.
Two principles are always applicable in determining the right direction: first, the growth and vitality of individuals and communities should be promoted as far as possible; second, the growth of one individual or community should be as little as possible at the expense of another. The second principle, applied individually, is reverence for others' lives; applied politically, it includes liberty. Liberty alone is negative, telling us what to avoid but not what to construct, so both principles must work together.
Men's impulses divide into creative ones (like the artist's) and possessive ones (like property ownership). The best life maximizes creation and minimizes possession. Possessiveness, whether defensive or aggressive, becomes hostile to creative impulses when strong. The State and Property embody possessiveness, standing against life and leading to war. The supreme principle should be promoting all that's creative to diminish possessive impulses. Our economic system fixates exclusively on possession, though production could vehicle creative impulses if producers formed autonomous democracies.
Life devoted only to itself remains animal, without human value, unable to preserve men from weariness and vanity. To be fully human, life must serve something beyond human existence-God, truth, or beauty. Those who best promote life don't make life their purpose but aim at bringing something eternal into human existence. Contact with this eternal world brings strength and fundamental peace that struggles cannot destroy-what Spinoza calls the intellectual love of God. With this spirit within us, our path becomes clear. By connecting with the eternal and bringing something divine into our troubled world, we make our lives creative even amid surrounding cruelty.
When Rome fell to the Goths, St. Augustine wrote "City of God," replacing material ruin with spiritual hope that sustained life through centuries while Rome declined to hovels. We too must create new hope and build through thought a better world than the one destroying itself. Bad times demand more of us than normal times would. Only supreme fire of thought and spirit can save future generations from the death befalling those we loved.
