What a week, what a month.
Outside the rain is drumming silently on tiled rooftops, below a endless gray sky. Cars pass over the wet streets woooshing by through scattered puddles, continuing on to some unknown destination. At home the sound of cars going by in front of our house could always be heard on a rainy weekend, upstairs, through the three pairs of windows looking down on the street below, sitting at the piano or at the dining room table where we always did homework. Whether the windows of our long-standing house - once an office, once a meat shop - were poorly fitted or simply a little open, I'm glad that it were so. Whether or not it's true, I'm just not sure rainy weekends would sound quite the same. Today, for the first time in a while, I can see my breath in the cool air outside. The leaves are falling quickly now, and the air is cool and damp. Finally, I can actually say it feels like the fall, some two or three weeks before "winter" starts.
It's been just a little over a month since my birthday now, so I guess I'll start there. My birthday was really special this year; just perfect. Perhaps the best analogy would be a very amazing desert; incredibly delicious, surprising, better with each bite, satisfying, but just enough and not too much. On the day of my birthday, a Tuesday, (and the weekend prior) I didn't have too much planned, which gave me some time to think, but mostly, made sure I didn't have so much that I wasn't able to think. Most of all, I received a lot of special birthday wishes from friends and family, which is the best present by far. If you're reading this, thanks again. Taking me by surprise yet again my host mum had gotten me a gift, and even surprised me with a cake Tuesday night as I was working! A very special birthday.
The following weeks were a bit interesting. First, in fact the following day, began a respiration problem called pneumo-thorax. "Pneumo" being that pertaining to air, and "thorax" being the thoracic cavity (the space within your ribcage where one's lungs are situated), a pneumo-thorax involves a spontaneous tear in the membrane below the ribs, which allows air to enter the thoracic cavity, causing pain as the lung is inhibited from expanding. This had never happened to me of course so I had a lot of questions going on as over a couple days the pain steadily got worse and my breathing more restricted. Ironically, my first was that the somewhat heavier food and my neglect of exercise of the last couple weeks was causing me to have a heart attack!!! As it turns out, it wasn't all to uncommon and generally occurs due to a slightly different body motion (I figured that game of volley-ball), and that tall, lean individuals were more prone; it was bound to happen. Finally after getting an X-Ray it was determined the it was large enough for them to treat it, which would have meant somehow siphoning out the air. All's well that ends well.
Ironically, a couple days after I was fully better (the hole simply seals itself) I got sick one more, getting a fever of some sort. After math class I started to get cold chills and sweating. I got up as everyone was leaving deciding I would go to the office instead of history, however, as soon as I got up I got a head rush. Normal, I thought, sitting back down for a second or two. However, as I walked down the hall it remained and soon my vision was almost gone; everything was whitewash and just shapes and figures. "Ohhhh darn", I thought. Nonetheless I was fine to walk, just a little blind. I made to the office. Finding Antonio the janitor I told him I wasn't feeling so well; "I know I'm looking at you but I can hardly see your face." I spent the next couple days in bed, but nothing serious.
In the few weeks following that, assignments and the like picked up a bit. Going from one deadline to the next I began scholarship applications while school picked up as well, with several assignments before Christmas break, starting this coming friday. So, four more days and I'm on break, and of course the festivities begin, meaning I'll surely have lots to talk about. Until then, and happy holidays!
Friday, December 12, 2008
Saturday, December 6, 2008
Courtesy?
During class one day I asked the person beside me for an eraser: "Puedo utilizar tu borrador?" - (could I use your eraser?). Seeing as I didn't know the person too well I figured it was normal to ask. Maybe not.
My question was quickly met with an "of course" but also with a slightly offended look, to my surprise. "You don't think I would lend you my eraser!?", the person exclaimed. (I should have done is simply taken it.)
It was friendly teasing, however, to address another person as such is, in fact, pretty cold. Whereas in Ontario I might have assumed that to be more or less normal, it would easily be a little out of place here, especially in the south. Whereas that may be considered respectful at home, here it would be seen a bit more on the cold side, as though you doubted of that person's good character. An interesting perspective.
My question was quickly met with an "of course" but also with a slightly offended look, to my surprise. "You don't think I would lend you my eraser!?", the person exclaimed. (I should have done is simply taken it.)
It was friendly teasing, however, to address another person as such is, in fact, pretty cold. Whereas in Ontario I might have assumed that to be more or less normal, it would easily be a little out of place here, especially in the south. Whereas that may be considered respectful at home, here it would be seen a bit more on the cold side, as though you doubted of that person's good character. An interesting perspective.
Friday, December 5, 2008
The Ethics of War
I came across this paper this week and finding it quite worhtwhile, decided to share it with you.
The Ethics of War
International Journal of Ethics, Vol. 25 No. 2 (January, 1915). 127–142. by The Honorable Bertrand Russell, F.C.S.
The question whether war is ever justified, and if so under what circumstances, is one which has been forcing itself upon the attention of all thoughtful men. On this question I find myself in the somewhat painful position of holding that no single one of the combatants is justified in the present war, while not taking the extreme Tolstoyan view that war is under all circumstances a crime. Opinions on such a subject as war are the outcome of feeling rather than of thought: given a man's emotional temperament, his convictions, both on war in general, and on any particular war which may occur during his lifetime, can be predicted with tolerable certainty. The arguments used will be mere reinforcements to convictions otherwise reached. The fundamental facts in this as in all ethical questions are feelings; all that thought can do is to clarify and systematize the expression of those feelings, and it is such clarifying and systematizing of my own feelings that I wish to attempt in the present article. (¶ 1)
I.
The question of rights and wrongs of a particular war is generally considered from a juridical or quasi-juridical standpoint: so and so broke such and such a treaty, crossed such and such a frontier, committed such and such technically unfriendly acts, and therefore by the rules it is permissible to kill as many of his nation as modern armaments render possible. There is a certain unreality, a certain lack of imaginative grasp about this way of viewing matters. It has the advantage, always dearly prized by lazy men, of substituting a formula, at once ambiguous and easily applied, for the vital realization of the consequences of acts. The juridical point of view is in fact an illegitimate transference, to the relations of States, of principles properly applicable to the relation of individuals within a State. Within a State, private war is forbidden, and the disputes of private citizens are settled, not by their own force, but by the force of the police, which, being overwhelming, very seldom needs to be explicitly displayed. It is necessary that there should be rules according to which the police decide who is to be considered in the right in a private dispute. These rules constitute law. The chief gain derived from the law and the police is the abolition of private wars, and this gain is independent of the question whether the law as it stands is the best possible. It is therefore in the public interest that the man who goes against the law should be considered in the wrong, not because of the excellence of the law, but because of the importance of avoiding the resort to force as between individuals within the State. (§ 1 ¶ 1)
In the interrelation of States nothing of the same sort exists. There is, it is true, a body of conventions called “international law,” and there are innumerable treaties between High Contracting Powers. But the conventions and the treaties differ from anything that could properly be called law by the absence of sanction: there is no police force able or willing to enforce their observance. It follows from this that every nation concludes multitudes of divergent and incompatible treaties, and that, in spite of the high language one sometimes hears, the main purpose of the treaties is in actual fact to afford the sort of pretext which is considered respectable for engaging in war with another Power. A Power is considered unscrupulous when it goes to war without previously providing itself with such a pretext--unless indeed its opponent is a small country, in which case it is only to be blamed if that small country happens to be under the protection of some other Great Power. England and Russia may partition Persia immediately after guaranteeing its integrity and independence, because no other Great Power has a recognized interest in Persia, and Persia is one of those small States in regard to which treaty obligations are not considered binding. France and Spain, under a similar guarantee as to Morocco, must not partition it without first compensating Germany, because it is recognized thta, until such compensation has been offered and accepted, Germany, though not Morocco, has a legitimate interest in the preservation of that country. All Great Powers having guaranteed the neutrality of Belgium, England has a recognized right to resent its violation--a right which is exercised when it is believed to be to England's interest, and waived when England's interest is not thought to be involved. A treaty is therefore not to be regarded as a contract having the same kind of binding force as belongs to private contracts; it is to be regarded merely as a means of giving notice to rival powers that certain acts may, if the national interest so demand, form one of those reasons for war which are recognized as legitimate. If the faithful observance of treaties were a frequent occurrence, like the observance of contracts, the breach of a treaty might be a real and not merely a formal ground for war, since it would tend to weaken the practice of deciding disputes by agreement rather than by armed force. In the absence of such a practice, however, appeal to treaties is only to be regarded as part of the diplomatic machinery. A nation whose diplomacy has been skilfully conducted will always, when it belies that its interests demand war, be able to find some treaty or agreement bringing its intervention within the rules of the diplomatic game. It is obvious, however, that, so long as treaties are only observed when it is convenient to do so, the rules of the diplomatic game have nothing to do with the question whether embarking or participating in a war will or will not be for the good of mankind, and it is this question which has to be decided in considering whether a war is justified or not. (§ 1 ¶ 2)
II.
It is necessary, in regard to any war, to consider, not its paper justification in past agreements, but its real justification in the balance of good which it is to bring to mankind. At the beginning of a war each nation, under the influence of what is called patriotism, believes that its own victory is both certain and of great importance to mankind. The praiseworthiness of this belief has become an accepted maxim of common sense: even when war is actually in progress it is held to be natural and right that a citizen of an enemy country should regard the victory of his side as assured and highly desirable. By concentrating attention upon the supposed advantages of the victory of our own side, we become more or less blind to the evils inseparable from war and equally certain whichever side may ultimately prove victorious. Yet so long as these are not fully realized, it is impossible to judge justly whether a war is or is not likely to be beneficial to the human race. Although the theme is trite, it is necessary therefore briefly to remind ourselves what the evils of war really are. (§ 1 ¶ 2)
To begin with the most obvious evil: large numbers of young men, the most courageous and the most physically fit in their respective nations, are killed, bringing great sorrow to their friends, loss to the community, and gain only to themselves. Many others are maimed for life, some go mad, and others become nervous wrecks, mere useless and helpless derelicts. Of those who survive many will be brutalized and morally degraded by the fierce business of killing, which, however much it may be the soldier's duty, must shock and often destroy the more humane instincts. As every truthful record of war shows, fear and hate let loose the wild beast in a not inconsiderable proportion of combatants, leading to strange cruelties, which must be faced, but not dwelt upon if sanity is to be preserved. (§ 2 ¶ 2)
Of the evils of war to the non-combatant population in the regions where fighting occurs, the recent misfortunes of Belgium have afforded an example upon which it is not necessary to enlarge. It is necessary, however, to point out that the misfortunes of Belgium do not, as is commonly believed in England, afford a reason in favor of war. Hatred, by a tragic delusion, perpetuates the very evils from which it springs. The sufferings of Belgium are attributed to the Germans and not to war; and thus the very horrors of war are used to stimulate the desire to increase their area and intensity. Even assuming the utmost humanity compatible with the conduct of military operations, it cannot be doubted that, if the troops of the Allies penetrate into the industrial regions of Germany, the German population will have to suffer a great part of the misfortunes which Germany has inflicted upon Belgium. To men under the influence of hate this thought is a cause of rejoicing, but to men in whom humane feeling is not extinct it shows that our sympathy with Belgium should make us hate war rather than Germany. (§ 2 ¶ 3)
The evils which war produces outside the area of military operations are perhaps even more serious, for though less intense they are far more widespread. Passing by the anxiety and sorrow of those whose sons or husbands or brothers are at the front, the extent and consequences of the economic injury inflicted by war are much greater than is usually realized. It is common to speak of economic evils as merely material, and of desire for economic progress as grovelling and uninspired. This view is perhaps natural in well-to-do people, to whom economic progress means setting up a motor car or taking holidays in Scotland instead of at the seaside. But with regard to the poorer classes of society, economic progress is the first condition of many spiritual goods and even often of life itself. An overcrowded family, living in a slum in conditions of filth and immorality, where half the children die from ignorance of hygiene and bad sanitation, and the remainder grow up stunted and ignorant--such a family can hardly make progress mentally or spiritually, except through an improvement in its economic condition. And without going to the very bottom of the social scale, economic progress is essential to the possibility of good education, of a tolerable existence for women, and of that breadth and freedom of outlook upon which any solid and national advance must be based. It is not the most oppressed or the most ill-used who make an effective plea for social justice, for some reorganization of society which shall give less to the idler and more to the common man. Throughout the Napoleonic wars, while the landowners of England continually increased their rent-rolls, the mass of the wage-earning population sank into greater and greater destitution. It was only afterwards, during the long peace, that a less unjust distribution began to be possible. It cannot be doubted that the desire on the part of the rich to distract men's minds from the claims of social justice has been more or less unconsciously one of the motives leading to war in modern Europe. Everywhere the well-to-do and the political parties which represent their interests have been the chief agents i nstirring up international hatred and in persuading the working man that his real enemy is the foreigner. Thus war, and the fear of war, has a double effect in retarding social progress: it diminishes the resources available for improving the condition of the wage-earning classes, and it distracts men's minds from the need and possibility of general improvement by persuading them that the way to better themselves is to injure their comrades in some other country. It is as a protest against this delusion that international socialism has arisen, and whatever may be thought of socialism as an economic doctrine, its internationalism makes it the sanest force in modern politics, and the only body which has preserved some degree of judgment and humanity in the present chaos. (§ 2 ¶ 4)
Of all the evils of war the greatest, in my opinion, is the purely spiritual evil: the hatred, the injustice, the repudiation of truth, the artificial conflict, where, if once the blindness of atavistic instincts and the sinister influence of anti-social interests, such as those of armaments with their subservient press, could be overcome, it would be seen that there is a real consonance of interest and essential identity of human nature, and every reason to replace hatred by love. Mr. Norman Angell has well shown how unreal, as applied to the conflicts of civilized States, is the whole vocabulary of international conflict, how illusory are the gains supposed to be obtained by victory, and how fallacious are the injuries to which nations, in times of peace, are supposed to inflict upon each other in economic competition. The importance of this thesis lies, not so much in its direct economic application, as in the hope which it affords for the liberation of better spiritual impulses in the relations of different communities. To love our enemies, however desirable, is not easy; and therefore it is well to realize that the enmity springs only from blindness, not from any inexorable physical necessity. (§ 2 ¶ 5)
III.
Are there any wars which achieve so much for the good of mankind as to outweigh all the evils we have been considering? I think there have been such wars in the past, but they are not wars of the sort with which our diplomatists are concerned, for which our armies and navies have been prepared, and which are exemplified by the present conflict. For the purposes of classification we may roughly distinguish four kinds of wars, though of course in any given case a war is not likely to be quite clearly of any one of the four kinds. With this proviso we may distinguish: (1) Wars of Colonization; (2) Wars of Principle; (3) Wars of Self-defence; (4) Wars of Prestige. Of these four kinds I should say that the first and second are fairly often justified; the third seldom, except against an adversary of inferior civilization, and the fourth, which is the sort to which the present war belongs, never. Let us consider these four kinds of war in succession. (§ 3 ¶ 1)
By a “war of colonization” I mean a war whose purpose is to drive out the whole population of some territory and replace it by an invading population of a different race. Ancient wars were very largely of this kind, of which we have a good example in the Book of Joshua. In modern times the conflicts of Europeans with American-Indians, Maories, and other aborigines in temperate regions, have been of this kind. Such wars are totally devoid of technical justification, and are apt to be mor ruthless than any other war. Nevertheless, if we are to judge by results, we cannot regret that such wars have taken place. They have the merit, often quite fallaciously claimed for all wars, of leading in the main to the survival of the fittest, and it is chiefly through such wars that the civilized portion of the world has been extended from the neighborhood of the Mediterranean to the greater part of the earth's sufrace. The eighteenth century, which liked to praise the virtues of the savage and contrast them with the gilded corruption of courts, nevertheless had no scruple in thrusting the noble savage out from his North American hunting grounds. And we cannot at this date bring ourselves to condemn the process by which the American continent has been acquired for European civilization. In order that such wars may be justified, it is necessary that there should be a very great and undeniable difference between the civilization of the colonizers and that of the dispossessed natives. It is necessary also that the climate should be one in which the invading race can flourish. When these conditions are satisfied the conquest becomes justified, though the actual fighting against the dispossessed inhabitants ought, of course, to be avoided as far as is compatible with colonizing. Many humane people will object in theory to the justification of this form of robbery, but I do not think that any practical or effective objection is likely to be made. (§ 3 ¶ 2)
Such wars, however, belong now to the past. The regions where the white men can live are all allotted, either to white races or to yellow races to whom the white man is not clearly superior, and whom, in any case, he is not strong enough to expel. Apart from small punitive expeditions, wars of colonization, in the true sense, are no longer possible. What are nowadays called colonial wars do not aim at the complete occupation of a country by a conquering race; they aim only at securing certain governmental and trading advantages. They belong, in fact, rather with what I call wars of prestige, than with wars of colonization in the old sense. There are, it is true, a few rare exceptions. The Greeks in the second Balkan war conducted a war of colonization against the Bulgarians; throughout a certain territory which they intended to occupy, they killed all the men, and carried off all the women. But in such cases, the only possible justification fails, since there is no evidence of superior civilization on the side of the conquerors. (§ 3 ¶ 3)
In spite, however, of the fact that wars of colonization belong to the past, men's feelings and beliefs about war are still those appropriate to the extinct conditions which rendered such wars possible. When the present war began, many people in England imagined that if the Allies were victorious Germany would cease to exist; Germany was to be “destroyed” or “smashed,” and since these phrases sounded vigorous and cheering, people failed to see that they were totally devoid of meaning. There are some seventy million Germans; with great good fortune, we might, in a successful war, succeed in killing two millions of them. There would then still be sixty-eight million Germans, and in a few years the loss of population due to the war would be made good. Germany is not merely a State, but a nation, bound together by a common language, common traditions, and common ideals. Whatever the outcome of the war, this nation will still exist at the end of it, and its strength cannot be permanently impaired. But the imagination in what pertains to war is still dominated by Homer and the Old Testament; men who cannot see that circumstances have changed since those works were composed are called “practical” men and are said to be free from illusions. Those, on the other hand, who have some understanding of the modern world, and some capacity for freeing their minds from the influence of phrases, are called dreamy idealists, Utopians, traitors, and friends of every country but their own. If the facts were understood, wars amongst civilized nations would case, owing to their inherent absurdity. Men's passions always lag behind their political organizations, and facts which leave no outlet for passions are not readily admitted. In order that hatred, pride, and violence may find an outlet, men unconsciously blind themselves to the plainest facts of politics and economics, and modern war continues to be waged with the phrases and theories invented by simpler men in a simpler age. (§ 3 ¶ 4)
IV.
The second type of war which may sometimes be justified is what may be called “the war of principle.” To this kind belong the wars of Protestant and Catholic, and the English and American civil wars. In such cases, each side, or at least one side, is honestly convinced that the progress of mankind depends upon the adoption of certain beliefs--beliefs which, through blindness or natural depravity, mankind will not regard as reasonable, except when presented at the point of the bayonet. Such wars may be justified: for example, a nation practising religious toleration may be justified in resisting a persecuting nation holding a different creed. On this ground we might justify the resistance of the Dutch to the England and French combined in the time of Charles II. But wars of principle are much less often justified than is believed by those in whose age they occur. It is very rarely that a principle of genuine value to mankind can only be propagated by military force: as a rule, it is the bad part of men's principles, not the good part, which makes it necessary to fight for their defence. And for this reason the bad part rather than the good rises to prominence during the progress of a war of principle. A nation undertaking a war in defence of religious toleration would be almost certain to persecute those of its citizens who did not believe in religious toleration. A war on behalf of democracy, if it is long and fierce, is sure to end in the exclusion from all share of power of those who do not support the war. Mr. George Trevelyan in an eloquent passage describes the defeat which, as the ultimate outcome of our civil war, overtook alike the ideals of the Roundheads and the ideals of the Cavaliers. “And this was the curse of the victors, not to die, but to live, and almost to lose their awful faith in God, when they saw the Restoration, not of the old gaiety that was too gay for them and the old loyalty that was too loyal for them, but of corruption and selfishness that had neither country nor king. The sound of the Roundhead cannon has long ago died away, but still the silence of the garden is heavy with unalterable fate, brooding over besiegers and besieged, in such haste to destroy each other and permit only the vile to survive.” This common doom of opposite ideals is the usual, though not the invariable, penalty of supporting ideals by force. While it may therefore be conceded that such wars are not invariably to be condemned, we must nevertheless scrutinize very skeptically the claim of any particular war to be justified on the ground of the victory which it brings to some important principle. (§ 4 ¶ 1)
There are some who maintain that the present war is a war in defence of democracy. I do not know whether this view is adopted by the Tsar, and for the sake of the stability of the Alliance I sincerely hope that it is not. I do not, however, desire to dispute the proposition that democracy in the western nations would suffer from the victory of Germany. What I do wish to dispute is the belief not infrequently entertained in England that if the Allies are victorious democracy can be forced upon a reluctant Germany as part of the conditions of peace. Men who think thus have lost sight of the spirit of democracy in worship of the letter. The Germans have the form of government which they desire, and therefore any other form, imposed by alien victors, would be less in harmony with the spirit of democracy, however much it might conform to the letter. Men do right to desire strongly the victory of ideals which they believe to be important, but it is almost always a sign of yielding to undue impatience when men believe that what is valuable in their ideals can be furthered by the substitution of force for peaceful persuasion. To advocate democracy by war is only to repeat, on a vaster scale and with far more tragic results, the error of those who have sought it hitherto by the assassin's knife and the bomb of the anarchist. (§ 4 ¶ 2)
Russell, n. 1. George M. Trevelyan, Clio, A Muse, and other Essays literary and pedestrian, London, 1913, pp. 26–27. ↩
V.
The next kind of war to be considered is the war of self-defence. This kind of war is almost universally admitted to be justifiable, and is condemned only by Christ and Tolstoy. The justification of wars of self-defence is very convenient, since so far as I know there has never yet been a war which was not one of self-defence. Every strategist assures us that the true defence is offence; every great nation believes that its own overwhelming strength is the only possible guarantee of the world's peace and can only be secured by the defeat of other nations. In the present war, Servia is defending itself against the brutal aggression of Austria-Hungary; Austria-Hungary is defending itself against the disruptive revolutionary agitation which Servia is believed to have fomented; Russia is defending Slavdom against the menace of Teutonic aggression; Germany is defending Teutonic civilization against the encroachments of the Slav; France is defending itself against a repetition of 1870; and England, which sought only the preservation of the status quo, is defending itself against a prospective menace to its maritime supremacy. The claim of each side to be fighting in self-defence appears to the other side mere wanton hypocrisy, because in each case the other side believes that self-defence is only to be achieved by conquest. So long as the principle of self-defence is recognized as affording always a sufficient justification for war, this tragic conflict of irresistible claims remains unavoidable. In certain cases, where there is a clash of differing civilizations, a war of self-defence may be justified on the same grounds as a war of principle. I think, however, that, even as a matter of practical politics, the principle of non-resistance contains an immense measure of wisdom if only men would have the courage to carry it out. The evils suffered during a hostile invasion are suffered because resistance is offered: the Duchy of Luxemburg, which was not in a position to offer resistance, has escaped the fate of the other regions occupied by hostile troops. What one civilized nation can achieve against another by means of conquest is very much less than is commonly supposed. It is said, both here and in Germany, that each side is fighting for its existence; but when this phrase is scrutinized, it is found to cover a great deal of confusion of thought induced by unreasoning panic. We cannot destroy Germany even by a complete military victory, nor conversely, could Germany destroy England even if our Navy were sunk and London occupied by the Prussians. English civilization, the English language, English manufactures would still exist, and as a matter of practical politics it would be totally impossible for Germany to establish a tyranny in this country. If the Germans, instead of being resisted by force of arms, had been passively permitted to establish themselves wherever they pleased, the halo of glory and courage surrounding the brutality of military success would have been absent, and public opinion in Germany itself would have rendered any oppression impossible. The history of our own dealings with our colonies affords abundant examples to show that under such circumstances the refusal of self-government is not possible. In a word, it is the means of repelling hostile aggression which make hostile aggression disastrous and which generate the fear by which hostile nations come to think aggression justified. As between civilized nations, therefore, non-resistance would seem not only a distant religious ideal, but the course of practical wisdom. Only pride and fear stand in the way of its adoption. But the pride of military glory might be overcome by a nobler pride, and the fear might be overcome by a clearer realization of the solidity and indestructibility of a modern civilized nation. (§ 5 ¶ 1)
VI.
The last kind of war we have to consider is what I have called “the war of prestige.” Prestige is seldom more than one element in the causes of a war, but it is often a very important element. In the present war, until the war had actually broken out, it was almost the only thing involved, although as soon as the war began other and much more important matters came to be at stake. The initial question between Austria and Russia was almost wholly one of prestige. The lives of Balkan peasants could not have been much affected for good or evil by the participation or non-participation of Austrian officials in the trial of supposed Servian accomplices in the Sarajevo murders. This important question, which is the one on which the war is being fought, concerns what is called the hegemony of the Balkans, and this is entirely a question of prestige. Men desire the sense of triumph, and fear the sense of humiliation which they would have in yielding to the demands of another nation. Rather than forego the triumph, rather than endure the humiliation, they are willing to inflict upon the world all those disasters which it is now suffering and all that exhaustion and impoverishment which it must long continue to suffer. The willingness to inflict and endure such evils is almost universally praised; it is called high-spirited, worthy of a great nation, showing fidelity to ancestral traditions. The slightest sign of reasonableness is attributed to fear, and received with shame on the one side and with derision on the other. In private life exactly the same state of opinion existed so long as duelling was practised, and exists still in those countries in which this custom still survives. It is now recognized, at any rate in the Anglo-Saxon world, that the so called “honor” which made duelling appear inevitable was a folly and a delusion. It is perhaps not too much to hope that the day may come when the honor of nations, like that of individuals, will be longer measured by their willingness to inflict slaughter. It can hardly be hoped, however, that such a change will be brought about while the affairs of nations are left in the keeping of diplomatists whose status is bound up with the diplomatic or military triumph of the countries from which they come, and whose manner of life renders them unusually ignorant of all the political and economic facts of real importance and of all the changes of opinions and organization which make the present world different from that of the eighteenth century. If any real progress is to be made in introducing sanity into international relations, it is vital that these relations should be in the hands of men less aloof and less aristocratic, more in touch with common life, and more emancipated from the prejudices of a bygone age. It is necessary also that popular education, instead of inflaming the hatred of foreigners and representing even the tiniest triumph as worthy of even the greatest sacrifices, should aim rather at producing some sense of the solidarity of mankind and of the paltriness of those objects to which diplomatists, often secretly, think fit to pledge the manhood and heroism of nations. (§ 6 ¶ 1)
The objects for which men have fought in the past, whether just or unjust, are no longer to be achieved by wars amongst civilized nations. A great weight of tradition, of financial interests, of political insincerity, is bound up with the anachronism of international hostility. It is, however, perhaps not chimerical to hope that the present war, which has shocked the conscience of mankind more than any war in previous history, may produce a revulsion against antiquated methods, and may lead the exhausted nations to insist upon the brotherhood and co-operation which their rulers have hitherto denied them. There is no reason whatever against the settlement of all disputes by a Council of Powers deliberating in public. Nothing stands in its way except the pride of rulers who wish to remain uncontrolled by anything higher than their own will. When this great tragedy has worked itself out to its disastrous conclusion, when the passions of hate and self-assertion have given place to compassion with the universal misery, the nations will perhaps realize that they have fought in blindness and delusion, and that the way of mercy is the way of happiness for all. (§ 6 ¶ 2)
Bertrand Russell.
Trinity College, Cambridge.
The Ethics of War
International Journal of Ethics, Vol. 25 No. 2 (January, 1915). 127–142. by The Honorable Bertrand Russell, F.C.S.
The question whether war is ever justified, and if so under what circumstances, is one which has been forcing itself upon the attention of all thoughtful men. On this question I find myself in the somewhat painful position of holding that no single one of the combatants is justified in the present war, while not taking the extreme Tolstoyan view that war is under all circumstances a crime. Opinions on such a subject as war are the outcome of feeling rather than of thought: given a man's emotional temperament, his convictions, both on war in general, and on any particular war which may occur during his lifetime, can be predicted with tolerable certainty. The arguments used will be mere reinforcements to convictions otherwise reached. The fundamental facts in this as in all ethical questions are feelings; all that thought can do is to clarify and systematize the expression of those feelings, and it is such clarifying and systematizing of my own feelings that I wish to attempt in the present article. (¶ 1)
I.
The question of rights and wrongs of a particular war is generally considered from a juridical or quasi-juridical standpoint: so and so broke such and such a treaty, crossed such and such a frontier, committed such and such technically unfriendly acts, and therefore by the rules it is permissible to kill as many of his nation as modern armaments render possible. There is a certain unreality, a certain lack of imaginative grasp about this way of viewing matters. It has the advantage, always dearly prized by lazy men, of substituting a formula, at once ambiguous and easily applied, for the vital realization of the consequences of acts. The juridical point of view is in fact an illegitimate transference, to the relations of States, of principles properly applicable to the relation of individuals within a State. Within a State, private war is forbidden, and the disputes of private citizens are settled, not by their own force, but by the force of the police, which, being overwhelming, very seldom needs to be explicitly displayed. It is necessary that there should be rules according to which the police decide who is to be considered in the right in a private dispute. These rules constitute law. The chief gain derived from the law and the police is the abolition of private wars, and this gain is independent of the question whether the law as it stands is the best possible. It is therefore in the public interest that the man who goes against the law should be considered in the wrong, not because of the excellence of the law, but because of the importance of avoiding the resort to force as between individuals within the State. (§ 1 ¶ 1)
In the interrelation of States nothing of the same sort exists. There is, it is true, a body of conventions called “international law,” and there are innumerable treaties between High Contracting Powers. But the conventions and the treaties differ from anything that could properly be called law by the absence of sanction: there is no police force able or willing to enforce their observance. It follows from this that every nation concludes multitudes of divergent and incompatible treaties, and that, in spite of the high language one sometimes hears, the main purpose of the treaties is in actual fact to afford the sort of pretext which is considered respectable for engaging in war with another Power. A Power is considered unscrupulous when it goes to war without previously providing itself with such a pretext--unless indeed its opponent is a small country, in which case it is only to be blamed if that small country happens to be under the protection of some other Great Power. England and Russia may partition Persia immediately after guaranteeing its integrity and independence, because no other Great Power has a recognized interest in Persia, and Persia is one of those small States in regard to which treaty obligations are not considered binding. France and Spain, under a similar guarantee as to Morocco, must not partition it without first compensating Germany, because it is recognized thta, until such compensation has been offered and accepted, Germany, though not Morocco, has a legitimate interest in the preservation of that country. All Great Powers having guaranteed the neutrality of Belgium, England has a recognized right to resent its violation--a right which is exercised when it is believed to be to England's interest, and waived when England's interest is not thought to be involved. A treaty is therefore not to be regarded as a contract having the same kind of binding force as belongs to private contracts; it is to be regarded merely as a means of giving notice to rival powers that certain acts may, if the national interest so demand, form one of those reasons for war which are recognized as legitimate. If the faithful observance of treaties were a frequent occurrence, like the observance of contracts, the breach of a treaty might be a real and not merely a formal ground for war, since it would tend to weaken the practice of deciding disputes by agreement rather than by armed force. In the absence of such a practice, however, appeal to treaties is only to be regarded as part of the diplomatic machinery. A nation whose diplomacy has been skilfully conducted will always, when it belies that its interests demand war, be able to find some treaty or agreement bringing its intervention within the rules of the diplomatic game. It is obvious, however, that, so long as treaties are only observed when it is convenient to do so, the rules of the diplomatic game have nothing to do with the question whether embarking or participating in a war will or will not be for the good of mankind, and it is this question which has to be decided in considering whether a war is justified or not. (§ 1 ¶ 2)
II.
It is necessary, in regard to any war, to consider, not its paper justification in past agreements, but its real justification in the balance of good which it is to bring to mankind. At the beginning of a war each nation, under the influence of what is called patriotism, believes that its own victory is both certain and of great importance to mankind. The praiseworthiness of this belief has become an accepted maxim of common sense: even when war is actually in progress it is held to be natural and right that a citizen of an enemy country should regard the victory of his side as assured and highly desirable. By concentrating attention upon the supposed advantages of the victory of our own side, we become more or less blind to the evils inseparable from war and equally certain whichever side may ultimately prove victorious. Yet so long as these are not fully realized, it is impossible to judge justly whether a war is or is not likely to be beneficial to the human race. Although the theme is trite, it is necessary therefore briefly to remind ourselves what the evils of war really are. (§ 1 ¶ 2)
To begin with the most obvious evil: large numbers of young men, the most courageous and the most physically fit in their respective nations, are killed, bringing great sorrow to their friends, loss to the community, and gain only to themselves. Many others are maimed for life, some go mad, and others become nervous wrecks, mere useless and helpless derelicts. Of those who survive many will be brutalized and morally degraded by the fierce business of killing, which, however much it may be the soldier's duty, must shock and often destroy the more humane instincts. As every truthful record of war shows, fear and hate let loose the wild beast in a not inconsiderable proportion of combatants, leading to strange cruelties, which must be faced, but not dwelt upon if sanity is to be preserved. (§ 2 ¶ 2)
Of the evils of war to the non-combatant population in the regions where fighting occurs, the recent misfortunes of Belgium have afforded an example upon which it is not necessary to enlarge. It is necessary, however, to point out that the misfortunes of Belgium do not, as is commonly believed in England, afford a reason in favor of war. Hatred, by a tragic delusion, perpetuates the very evils from which it springs. The sufferings of Belgium are attributed to the Germans and not to war; and thus the very horrors of war are used to stimulate the desire to increase their area and intensity. Even assuming the utmost humanity compatible with the conduct of military operations, it cannot be doubted that, if the troops of the Allies penetrate into the industrial regions of Germany, the German population will have to suffer a great part of the misfortunes which Germany has inflicted upon Belgium. To men under the influence of hate this thought is a cause of rejoicing, but to men in whom humane feeling is not extinct it shows that our sympathy with Belgium should make us hate war rather than Germany. (§ 2 ¶ 3)
The evils which war produces outside the area of military operations are perhaps even more serious, for though less intense they are far more widespread. Passing by the anxiety and sorrow of those whose sons or husbands or brothers are at the front, the extent and consequences of the economic injury inflicted by war are much greater than is usually realized. It is common to speak of economic evils as merely material, and of desire for economic progress as grovelling and uninspired. This view is perhaps natural in well-to-do people, to whom economic progress means setting up a motor car or taking holidays in Scotland instead of at the seaside. But with regard to the poorer classes of society, economic progress is the first condition of many spiritual goods and even often of life itself. An overcrowded family, living in a slum in conditions of filth and immorality, where half the children die from ignorance of hygiene and bad sanitation, and the remainder grow up stunted and ignorant--such a family can hardly make progress mentally or spiritually, except through an improvement in its economic condition. And without going to the very bottom of the social scale, economic progress is essential to the possibility of good education, of a tolerable existence for women, and of that breadth and freedom of outlook upon which any solid and national advance must be based. It is not the most oppressed or the most ill-used who make an effective plea for social justice, for some reorganization of society which shall give less to the idler and more to the common man. Throughout the Napoleonic wars, while the landowners of England continually increased their rent-rolls, the mass of the wage-earning population sank into greater and greater destitution. It was only afterwards, during the long peace, that a less unjust distribution began to be possible. It cannot be doubted that the desire on the part of the rich to distract men's minds from the claims of social justice has been more or less unconsciously one of the motives leading to war in modern Europe. Everywhere the well-to-do and the political parties which represent their interests have been the chief agents i nstirring up international hatred and in persuading the working man that his real enemy is the foreigner. Thus war, and the fear of war, has a double effect in retarding social progress: it diminishes the resources available for improving the condition of the wage-earning classes, and it distracts men's minds from the need and possibility of general improvement by persuading them that the way to better themselves is to injure their comrades in some other country. It is as a protest against this delusion that international socialism has arisen, and whatever may be thought of socialism as an economic doctrine, its internationalism makes it the sanest force in modern politics, and the only body which has preserved some degree of judgment and humanity in the present chaos. (§ 2 ¶ 4)
Of all the evils of war the greatest, in my opinion, is the purely spiritual evil: the hatred, the injustice, the repudiation of truth, the artificial conflict, where, if once the blindness of atavistic instincts and the sinister influence of anti-social interests, such as those of armaments with their subservient press, could be overcome, it would be seen that there is a real consonance of interest and essential identity of human nature, and every reason to replace hatred by love. Mr. Norman Angell has well shown how unreal, as applied to the conflicts of civilized States, is the whole vocabulary of international conflict, how illusory are the gains supposed to be obtained by victory, and how fallacious are the injuries to which nations, in times of peace, are supposed to inflict upon each other in economic competition. The importance of this thesis lies, not so much in its direct economic application, as in the hope which it affords for the liberation of better spiritual impulses in the relations of different communities. To love our enemies, however desirable, is not easy; and therefore it is well to realize that the enmity springs only from blindness, not from any inexorable physical necessity. (§ 2 ¶ 5)
III.
Are there any wars which achieve so much for the good of mankind as to outweigh all the evils we have been considering? I think there have been such wars in the past, but they are not wars of the sort with which our diplomatists are concerned, for which our armies and navies have been prepared, and which are exemplified by the present conflict. For the purposes of classification we may roughly distinguish four kinds of wars, though of course in any given case a war is not likely to be quite clearly of any one of the four kinds. With this proviso we may distinguish: (1) Wars of Colonization; (2) Wars of Principle; (3) Wars of Self-defence; (4) Wars of Prestige. Of these four kinds I should say that the first and second are fairly often justified; the third seldom, except against an adversary of inferior civilization, and the fourth, which is the sort to which the present war belongs, never. Let us consider these four kinds of war in succession. (§ 3 ¶ 1)
By a “war of colonization” I mean a war whose purpose is to drive out the whole population of some territory and replace it by an invading population of a different race. Ancient wars were very largely of this kind, of which we have a good example in the Book of Joshua. In modern times the conflicts of Europeans with American-Indians, Maories, and other aborigines in temperate regions, have been of this kind. Such wars are totally devoid of technical justification, and are apt to be mor ruthless than any other war. Nevertheless, if we are to judge by results, we cannot regret that such wars have taken place. They have the merit, often quite fallaciously claimed for all wars, of leading in the main to the survival of the fittest, and it is chiefly through such wars that the civilized portion of the world has been extended from the neighborhood of the Mediterranean to the greater part of the earth's sufrace. The eighteenth century, which liked to praise the virtues of the savage and contrast them with the gilded corruption of courts, nevertheless had no scruple in thrusting the noble savage out from his North American hunting grounds. And we cannot at this date bring ourselves to condemn the process by which the American continent has been acquired for European civilization. In order that such wars may be justified, it is necessary that there should be a very great and undeniable difference between the civilization of the colonizers and that of the dispossessed natives. It is necessary also that the climate should be one in which the invading race can flourish. When these conditions are satisfied the conquest becomes justified, though the actual fighting against the dispossessed inhabitants ought, of course, to be avoided as far as is compatible with colonizing. Many humane people will object in theory to the justification of this form of robbery, but I do not think that any practical or effective objection is likely to be made. (§ 3 ¶ 2)
Such wars, however, belong now to the past. The regions where the white men can live are all allotted, either to white races or to yellow races to whom the white man is not clearly superior, and whom, in any case, he is not strong enough to expel. Apart from small punitive expeditions, wars of colonization, in the true sense, are no longer possible. What are nowadays called colonial wars do not aim at the complete occupation of a country by a conquering race; they aim only at securing certain governmental and trading advantages. They belong, in fact, rather with what I call wars of prestige, than with wars of colonization in the old sense. There are, it is true, a few rare exceptions. The Greeks in the second Balkan war conducted a war of colonization against the Bulgarians; throughout a certain territory which they intended to occupy, they killed all the men, and carried off all the women. But in such cases, the only possible justification fails, since there is no evidence of superior civilization on the side of the conquerors. (§ 3 ¶ 3)
In spite, however, of the fact that wars of colonization belong to the past, men's feelings and beliefs about war are still those appropriate to the extinct conditions which rendered such wars possible. When the present war began, many people in England imagined that if the Allies were victorious Germany would cease to exist; Germany was to be “destroyed” or “smashed,” and since these phrases sounded vigorous and cheering, people failed to see that they were totally devoid of meaning. There are some seventy million Germans; with great good fortune, we might, in a successful war, succeed in killing two millions of them. There would then still be sixty-eight million Germans, and in a few years the loss of population due to the war would be made good. Germany is not merely a State, but a nation, bound together by a common language, common traditions, and common ideals. Whatever the outcome of the war, this nation will still exist at the end of it, and its strength cannot be permanently impaired. But the imagination in what pertains to war is still dominated by Homer and the Old Testament; men who cannot see that circumstances have changed since those works were composed are called “practical” men and are said to be free from illusions. Those, on the other hand, who have some understanding of the modern world, and some capacity for freeing their minds from the influence of phrases, are called dreamy idealists, Utopians, traitors, and friends of every country but their own. If the facts were understood, wars amongst civilized nations would case, owing to their inherent absurdity. Men's passions always lag behind their political organizations, and facts which leave no outlet for passions are not readily admitted. In order that hatred, pride, and violence may find an outlet, men unconsciously blind themselves to the plainest facts of politics and economics, and modern war continues to be waged with the phrases and theories invented by simpler men in a simpler age. (§ 3 ¶ 4)
IV.
The second type of war which may sometimes be justified is what may be called “the war of principle.” To this kind belong the wars of Protestant and Catholic, and the English and American civil wars. In such cases, each side, or at least one side, is honestly convinced that the progress of mankind depends upon the adoption of certain beliefs--beliefs which, through blindness or natural depravity, mankind will not regard as reasonable, except when presented at the point of the bayonet. Such wars may be justified: for example, a nation practising religious toleration may be justified in resisting a persecuting nation holding a different creed. On this ground we might justify the resistance of the Dutch to the England and French combined in the time of Charles II. But wars of principle are much less often justified than is believed by those in whose age they occur. It is very rarely that a principle of genuine value to mankind can only be propagated by military force: as a rule, it is the bad part of men's principles, not the good part, which makes it necessary to fight for their defence. And for this reason the bad part rather than the good rises to prominence during the progress of a war of principle. A nation undertaking a war in defence of religious toleration would be almost certain to persecute those of its citizens who did not believe in religious toleration. A war on behalf of democracy, if it is long and fierce, is sure to end in the exclusion from all share of power of those who do not support the war. Mr. George Trevelyan in an eloquent passage describes the defeat which, as the ultimate outcome of our civil war, overtook alike the ideals of the Roundheads and the ideals of the Cavaliers. “And this was the curse of the victors, not to die, but to live, and almost to lose their awful faith in God, when they saw the Restoration, not of the old gaiety that was too gay for them and the old loyalty that was too loyal for them, but of corruption and selfishness that had neither country nor king. The sound of the Roundhead cannon has long ago died away, but still the silence of the garden is heavy with unalterable fate, brooding over besiegers and besieged, in such haste to destroy each other and permit only the vile to survive.” This common doom of opposite ideals is the usual, though not the invariable, penalty of supporting ideals by force. While it may therefore be conceded that such wars are not invariably to be condemned, we must nevertheless scrutinize very skeptically the claim of any particular war to be justified on the ground of the victory which it brings to some important principle. (§ 4 ¶ 1)
There are some who maintain that the present war is a war in defence of democracy. I do not know whether this view is adopted by the Tsar, and for the sake of the stability of the Alliance I sincerely hope that it is not. I do not, however, desire to dispute the proposition that democracy in the western nations would suffer from the victory of Germany. What I do wish to dispute is the belief not infrequently entertained in England that if the Allies are victorious democracy can be forced upon a reluctant Germany as part of the conditions of peace. Men who think thus have lost sight of the spirit of democracy in worship of the letter. The Germans have the form of government which they desire, and therefore any other form, imposed by alien victors, would be less in harmony with the spirit of democracy, however much it might conform to the letter. Men do right to desire strongly the victory of ideals which they believe to be important, but it is almost always a sign of yielding to undue impatience when men believe that what is valuable in their ideals can be furthered by the substitution of force for peaceful persuasion. To advocate democracy by war is only to repeat, on a vaster scale and with far more tragic results, the error of those who have sought it hitherto by the assassin's knife and the bomb of the anarchist. (§ 4 ¶ 2)
Russell, n. 1. George M. Trevelyan, Clio, A Muse, and other Essays literary and pedestrian, London, 1913, pp. 26–27. ↩
V.
The next kind of war to be considered is the war of self-defence. This kind of war is almost universally admitted to be justifiable, and is condemned only by Christ and Tolstoy. The justification of wars of self-defence is very convenient, since so far as I know there has never yet been a war which was not one of self-defence. Every strategist assures us that the true defence is offence; every great nation believes that its own overwhelming strength is the only possible guarantee of the world's peace and can only be secured by the defeat of other nations. In the present war, Servia is defending itself against the brutal aggression of Austria-Hungary; Austria-Hungary is defending itself against the disruptive revolutionary agitation which Servia is believed to have fomented; Russia is defending Slavdom against the menace of Teutonic aggression; Germany is defending Teutonic civilization against the encroachments of the Slav; France is defending itself against a repetition of 1870; and England, which sought only the preservation of the status quo, is defending itself against a prospective menace to its maritime supremacy. The claim of each side to be fighting in self-defence appears to the other side mere wanton hypocrisy, because in each case the other side believes that self-defence is only to be achieved by conquest. So long as the principle of self-defence is recognized as affording always a sufficient justification for war, this tragic conflict of irresistible claims remains unavoidable. In certain cases, where there is a clash of differing civilizations, a war of self-defence may be justified on the same grounds as a war of principle. I think, however, that, even as a matter of practical politics, the principle of non-resistance contains an immense measure of wisdom if only men would have the courage to carry it out. The evils suffered during a hostile invasion are suffered because resistance is offered: the Duchy of Luxemburg, which was not in a position to offer resistance, has escaped the fate of the other regions occupied by hostile troops. What one civilized nation can achieve against another by means of conquest is very much less than is commonly supposed. It is said, both here and in Germany, that each side is fighting for its existence; but when this phrase is scrutinized, it is found to cover a great deal of confusion of thought induced by unreasoning panic. We cannot destroy Germany even by a complete military victory, nor conversely, could Germany destroy England even if our Navy were sunk and London occupied by the Prussians. English civilization, the English language, English manufactures would still exist, and as a matter of practical politics it would be totally impossible for Germany to establish a tyranny in this country. If the Germans, instead of being resisted by force of arms, had been passively permitted to establish themselves wherever they pleased, the halo of glory and courage surrounding the brutality of military success would have been absent, and public opinion in Germany itself would have rendered any oppression impossible. The history of our own dealings with our colonies affords abundant examples to show that under such circumstances the refusal of self-government is not possible. In a word, it is the means of repelling hostile aggression which make hostile aggression disastrous and which generate the fear by which hostile nations come to think aggression justified. As between civilized nations, therefore, non-resistance would seem not only a distant religious ideal, but the course of practical wisdom. Only pride and fear stand in the way of its adoption. But the pride of military glory might be overcome by a nobler pride, and the fear might be overcome by a clearer realization of the solidity and indestructibility of a modern civilized nation. (§ 5 ¶ 1)
VI.
The last kind of war we have to consider is what I have called “the war of prestige.” Prestige is seldom more than one element in the causes of a war, but it is often a very important element. In the present war, until the war had actually broken out, it was almost the only thing involved, although as soon as the war began other and much more important matters came to be at stake. The initial question between Austria and Russia was almost wholly one of prestige. The lives of Balkan peasants could not have been much affected for good or evil by the participation or non-participation of Austrian officials in the trial of supposed Servian accomplices in the Sarajevo murders. This important question, which is the one on which the war is being fought, concerns what is called the hegemony of the Balkans, and this is entirely a question of prestige. Men desire the sense of triumph, and fear the sense of humiliation which they would have in yielding to the demands of another nation. Rather than forego the triumph, rather than endure the humiliation, they are willing to inflict upon the world all those disasters which it is now suffering and all that exhaustion and impoverishment which it must long continue to suffer. The willingness to inflict and endure such evils is almost universally praised; it is called high-spirited, worthy of a great nation, showing fidelity to ancestral traditions. The slightest sign of reasonableness is attributed to fear, and received with shame on the one side and with derision on the other. In private life exactly the same state of opinion existed so long as duelling was practised, and exists still in those countries in which this custom still survives. It is now recognized, at any rate in the Anglo-Saxon world, that the so called “honor” which made duelling appear inevitable was a folly and a delusion. It is perhaps not too much to hope that the day may come when the honor of nations, like that of individuals, will be longer measured by their willingness to inflict slaughter. It can hardly be hoped, however, that such a change will be brought about while the affairs of nations are left in the keeping of diplomatists whose status is bound up with the diplomatic or military triumph of the countries from which they come, and whose manner of life renders them unusually ignorant of all the political and economic facts of real importance and of all the changes of opinions and organization which make the present world different from that of the eighteenth century. If any real progress is to be made in introducing sanity into international relations, it is vital that these relations should be in the hands of men less aloof and less aristocratic, more in touch with common life, and more emancipated from the prejudices of a bygone age. It is necessary also that popular education, instead of inflaming the hatred of foreigners and representing even the tiniest triumph as worthy of even the greatest sacrifices, should aim rather at producing some sense of the solidarity of mankind and of the paltriness of those objects to which diplomatists, often secretly, think fit to pledge the manhood and heroism of nations. (§ 6 ¶ 1)
The objects for which men have fought in the past, whether just or unjust, are no longer to be achieved by wars amongst civilized nations. A great weight of tradition, of financial interests, of political insincerity, is bound up with the anachronism of international hostility. It is, however, perhaps not chimerical to hope that the present war, which has shocked the conscience of mankind more than any war in previous history, may produce a revulsion against antiquated methods, and may lead the exhausted nations to insist upon the brotherhood and co-operation which their rulers have hitherto denied them. There is no reason whatever against the settlement of all disputes by a Council of Powers deliberating in public. Nothing stands in its way except the pride of rulers who wish to remain uncontrolled by anything higher than their own will. When this great tragedy has worked itself out to its disastrous conclusion, when the passions of hate and self-assertion have given place to compassion with the universal misery, the nations will perhaps realize that they have fought in blindness and delusion, and that the way of mercy is the way of happiness for all. (§ 6 ¶ 2)
Bertrand Russell.
Trinity College, Cambridge.
Monday, November 17, 2008
Encounters
Depending on where you go, you will find different norms in how daily interactions proceed; do we say hello, do we hold the door, or march on and make absolutely zero eye contact. As to why these different patterns are in existence I’d say much of it is practicality. Which norms are more practical in a given society, and which are not. Perhaps this has to do with the pace of life, how busy a society is.
If this is indeed the case, then Andalucians certainly have some spare time. The people are very open to conversation and are often glad to help someone out. Among all the occasions I’ve ever asked for directions I’ve always gotten ample help, if not a short conversation as well.
My host mum and I were at a small shop, where fruits and veggies are sold, along with some grains. Two ladies in the shop starting listening in on a little conversation, as were most overyone else in the shop. As follows one lady joined in, commenting as well. And then another. And then another. Soon after, in the little shop no bigger than a corner store everybody's talking and gesticulating; a heated conversation was going between just about everyone, including the shop owner Ramon, and his wife, Charo. I say heated conversation, as, despite everyone’s animated state, this was not an argument. It’s just how the language is spoken. This is certainly one of my favourite experiences, perhaps since I don't think I'd expect the same to happen where I live. Nonetheless, the same thing happened the next day in the meat shop, does just about anytime. This trait of course reaches the classroom as well, at which point it resembles an angry jury. I don’t think it would be all that out of place if each teacher, along with their books, chalk and chalkboard, were also given a wooden knocker like the judge uses in court.
Nonetheless, depending on the region in Spain, these norms change. In general people say the south is a bit more open and the north a little bit more reserved. All the southerners say that northerners are just under the influence of the cold. I can only imagine what they’d think of Sudbury at minus 30.
For my part, I always say “hi” (or “buenas” rather) on the street, and talk with whomever I happen to meet. Some people are of course more reserved, though this certainly isn’t a bother. If were honest we know that most relationships truly form with time. Despite this, often enough I’ll have a long conversation with a complete stranger and feel great after. Recently I was at the university campus to do some research in the library. I was walking towards the library of the apparently deserted campus when I see someone coming from behind, a little fast too. I turn around and see a security guard rolling towards me aboard.... a segway!? He came to a stop asking me where I was going. When I told him the library he replied that it was close and then headed off in another direction. It seemed little Star Wars, or a strange science fiction novel. Despite the huge technological revolution in which we live, I'm not sure I'm ready for segways just yet.
As I headed out of the library I saw another student coming my way, towards the library. I asked him where he was going and when he also replied the library, I told him the news. “I’m not from around here” he replied.
funny that you should say that...
He told me his story and I mine in what ended up to be a great discussion about Jerez, study abroad, friends, and of course the recent university reform going on, against which many students were holding recent strikes. Not only did we have a great conversation we also figured out that last year he played on the basketball team on which I had been playing moments ago. As such we knew much of the same people, which then leaded into a little discussion about friends. And if we hadn’t spoken to each other, for one reason or another, we’d never had known all this or had such a great conversation, and a new friend. Not all encounters are so fortuitous, however, not all things people hold in common with one another are places, age, or sports.
As a student, teachers figure greatly among the people I see each day and as such I often I’ve got to know them quite well, specifically my high school teachers. My teachers here are also really down-to-earth people and great to hang out with, specifically my philosophy prof who’s – I just have to say it – so cool. Apart from being a lot of fun to talk with they also have some pretty interesting stories.
Since Spain has a particularly high unemployment rate, very few positions are available for teacher, a competitive field among others. As a result of this, many teachers at my high school have some pretty interesting backgrounds; study abroad, doctorates, professional sports, to teach their respective subject; teaching more than a subject is rare in Spain.
If this is indeed the case, then Andalucians certainly have some spare time. The people are very open to conversation and are often glad to help someone out. Among all the occasions I’ve ever asked for directions I’ve always gotten ample help, if not a short conversation as well.
My host mum and I were at a small shop, where fruits and veggies are sold, along with some grains. Two ladies in the shop starting listening in on a little conversation, as were most overyone else in the shop. As follows one lady joined in, commenting as well. And then another. And then another. Soon after, in the little shop no bigger than a corner store everybody's talking and gesticulating; a heated conversation was going between just about everyone, including the shop owner Ramon, and his wife, Charo. I say heated conversation, as, despite everyone’s animated state, this was not an argument. It’s just how the language is spoken. This is certainly one of my favourite experiences, perhaps since I don't think I'd expect the same to happen where I live. Nonetheless, the same thing happened the next day in the meat shop, does just about anytime. This trait of course reaches the classroom as well, at which point it resembles an angry jury. I don’t think it would be all that out of place if each teacher, along with their books, chalk and chalkboard, were also given a wooden knocker like the judge uses in court.
Nonetheless, depending on the region in Spain, these norms change. In general people say the south is a bit more open and the north a little bit more reserved. All the southerners say that northerners are just under the influence of the cold. I can only imagine what they’d think of Sudbury at minus 30.
For my part, I always say “hi” (or “buenas” rather) on the street, and talk with whomever I happen to meet. Some people are of course more reserved, though this certainly isn’t a bother. If were honest we know that most relationships truly form with time. Despite this, often enough I’ll have a long conversation with a complete stranger and feel great after. Recently I was at the university campus to do some research in the library. I was walking towards the library of the apparently deserted campus when I see someone coming from behind, a little fast too. I turn around and see a security guard rolling towards me aboard.... a segway!? He came to a stop asking me where I was going. When I told him the library he replied that it was close and then headed off in another direction. It seemed little Star Wars, or a strange science fiction novel. Despite the huge technological revolution in which we live, I'm not sure I'm ready for segways just yet.
As I headed out of the library I saw another student coming my way, towards the library. I asked him where he was going and when he also replied the library, I told him the news. “I’m not from around here” he replied.
funny that you should say that...
He told me his story and I mine in what ended up to be a great discussion about Jerez, study abroad, friends, and of course the recent university reform going on, against which many students were holding recent strikes. Not only did we have a great conversation we also figured out that last year he played on the basketball team on which I had been playing moments ago. As such we knew much of the same people, which then leaded into a little discussion about friends. And if we hadn’t spoken to each other, for one reason or another, we’d never had known all this or had such a great conversation, and a new friend. Not all encounters are so fortuitous, however, not all things people hold in common with one another are places, age, or sports.
As a student, teachers figure greatly among the people I see each day and as such I often I’ve got to know them quite well, specifically my high school teachers. My teachers here are also really down-to-earth people and great to hang out with, specifically my philosophy prof who’s – I just have to say it – so cool. Apart from being a lot of fun to talk with they also have some pretty interesting stories.
Since Spain has a particularly high unemployment rate, very few positions are available for teacher, a competitive field among others. As a result of this, many teachers at my high school have some pretty interesting backgrounds; study abroad, doctorates, professional sports, to teach their respective subject; teaching more than a subject is rare in Spain.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
On blogging
On blogging
Blogging is a pretty interesting thing. To start blogging was, for me, a little challenging at first; what to write? What will people think? Is that too personal? What’s important to me? To be conscious of me writing, and my own perceptions, was natural at the outset, however, all of this impedes you from actually blogging, and more importantly, getting on to the next, more fruitful questions: what’s important to me? What do I think (this one’s not as simple as it seems)? Whatever the case, after my first post, blogging became much easier, and most of all, very rewarding. Of course, another enjoyable aspect is to see what other people think, of what I think. Likewise, at best a post may be thought-provoking in one way or another, or perhaps just enjoyable to the reader. A friend of mine and I were talking about blogging and to him, its value was in remembering for later in life. All in all, blogging is a pretty neat thing; to keep in touch, to remember, or just to throw it out there. So, a little bored? Facebook status doesn't quite cut it? Try blogging!
Thus ends my preface to a few things that I’ve had on my mind.
Blogging is a pretty interesting thing. To start blogging was, for me, a little challenging at first; what to write? What will people think? Is that too personal? What’s important to me? To be conscious of me writing, and my own perceptions, was natural at the outset, however, all of this impedes you from actually blogging, and more importantly, getting on to the next, more fruitful questions: what’s important to me? What do I think (this one’s not as simple as it seems)? Whatever the case, after my first post, blogging became much easier, and most of all, very rewarding. Of course, another enjoyable aspect is to see what other people think, of what I think. Likewise, at best a post may be thought-provoking in one way or another, or perhaps just enjoyable to the reader. A friend of mine and I were talking about blogging and to him, its value was in remembering for later in life. All in all, blogging is a pretty neat thing; to keep in touch, to remember, or just to throw it out there. So, a little bored? Facebook status doesn't quite cut it? Try blogging!
Thus ends my preface to a few things that I’ve had on my mind.
Friday, October 24, 2008
Musings
It's about 4:30 right now and I've just finished lunch. Today being a friday I'm looking forward to the weekend although things haven't started moving just yet. At around 3 in the afternoon the whole city goes a little haywire as students and adults both rush home; adults in compact european cars, and those teens 16 and up on little motobikes much like Vespas, with a friend on the small seat behind them, legs dangling on either side and hands limply at their side, helmet or no helmet. At about 4 o' clock the din of traffic fades aways almost completely, save the occasionnaly sound of one or two cars going by, or the loud the buzz of a young straggler heading home on his motorbike, coming through the open window in my room. That's where I am right now; not quite "the calm before the storm" or even "the deep breath before the plunge" but maybe "the european friday after-lunch nap before the weekend".
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Basketball
In Jerez civic holidays are very common, perhaps due to the increased role of christianity in Spain's culture. Since arriving in Jerez we've had three school days off and subsequently more four day school weeks than not. Last thrusday myself and some friends from school decided to spend our civic holiday playing basketball. We met around 11 and made our way over to a basketball court behind a local school. There are many courts in the city but we chose this one as it was a foot shorter than regular height, allowing each of us to pretend we were 7 feet tall, if only for a bit. Four hours of basketball later we were all exhausted although I couldn't have thought of a better way to spend our holiday.
The saturday that followed we all went to watch a men's basketball game, between Jerez and Valencia, another city in Spain on the Mediterannean. The players were riddiculously good and it was really to watch. The stadium wasn't incredibly packed of course, as most people were watching the saturday soccer game. Nonetheless, it was pretty clear that there are some spanish fans are fairly intense. I wont teach you all the swears of course though needless to say I was a little shocked, first by what people shouted but more so that no one really seemed to care. Nonetheless, the game was great.
Earlier on, I had been hoping to play some sports in Jerez, given that this academic semester was somewhat less important. No sports were offered at school however, a friend invited me to come along to his basketball practice, to see if I could train with the team while I was here. The coach saw no problem whatsoever which was great, so I joined in, likely to continue. Drills were more of less the same as anywhere else which was really nice; the language barrier certainly isn't bad but it was really nice not to have to think about it for a bit, just focusing on playing. Nonetheless, I met a few of the people on the team, and some others I knew from our earlier game of street ball. Once they figured out where I was from the guys promptly introduced my to a player who was from... Chicago! I almost wanted to ask; "what are you doing here?!" - don't worry, I didn't. To find an english speaking person was a bit like meeting an old friend, despite his intense accent. As it happens he moved to Spain 7 years ago and of course remains fluent. The drills kept us busy but I'll certainly have to talk to him some more.
The saturday that followed we all went to watch a men's basketball game, between Jerez and Valencia, another city in Spain on the Mediterannean. The players were riddiculously good and it was really to watch. The stadium wasn't incredibly packed of course, as most people were watching the saturday soccer game. Nonetheless, it was pretty clear that there are some spanish fans are fairly intense. I wont teach you all the swears of course though needless to say I was a little shocked, first by what people shouted but more so that no one really seemed to care. Nonetheless, the game was great.
Earlier on, I had been hoping to play some sports in Jerez, given that this academic semester was somewhat less important. No sports were offered at school however, a friend invited me to come along to his basketball practice, to see if I could train with the team while I was here. The coach saw no problem whatsoever which was great, so I joined in, likely to continue. Drills were more of less the same as anywhere else which was really nice; the language barrier certainly isn't bad but it was really nice not to have to think about it for a bit, just focusing on playing. Nonetheless, I met a few of the people on the team, and some others I knew from our earlier game of street ball. Once they figured out where I was from the guys promptly introduced my to a player who was from... Chicago! I almost wanted to ask; "what are you doing here?!" - don't worry, I didn't. To find an english speaking person was a bit like meeting an old friend, despite his intense accent. As it happens he moved to Spain 7 years ago and of course remains fluent. The drills kept us busy but I'll certainly have to talk to him some more.
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