CHAPTER IX

CONFLICT

I. INTRODUCTION

1. The Concept of Conflict

The distinction between competition and conflict has already been indicated. Both are forms of interaction, but competition is a struggle between individuals, or groups of individuals, who are not necessarily in contact and communication; while conflict is a contest in which contact is an indispensable condition. Competition, unqualified and uncontrolled as with plants, and in the great impersonal life-struggle of man with his kind and with all animate nature, is unconscious. Conflict is always conscious, indeed, it evokes the deepest emotions and strongest passions and enlists the greatest concentration of attention and of effort. Both competition and conflict are forms of struggle. Competition, however, is continuous and impersonal, conflict is intermittent and personal.

Competition is a struggle for position in an economic order. The distribution of populations in the world-economy, the industrial organization in the national economy, and the vocation of the individual in the division of labor—all these are determined, in the long run, by competition. The status of the individual, or a group of individuals, in the social order, on the other hand, is determined by rivalry; by war, or by subtler forms of conflict.

“Two is company, three is a crowd” suggests how easily the social equilibrium is disturbed by the entrance of a new factor in a social situation. The delicate nuances and grades of attention given to different individuals moving in the same social circle are the superficial reflections of rivalries and conflicts beneath the smooth and decorous surfaces of polite society.

In general, we may say that competition determines the position of the individual in the community; conflict fixes his place in society. Location, position, ecological interdependence—these are the characteristics of the community. Status, subordination and superordination, control—these are the distinctive marks of a society.

The notion of conflict, like the fact, has its roots deep in human interest. Mars has always held a high rank in the hierarchy of the gods. Whenever and wherever struggle has taken the form of conflict, whether of races, of nations, or of individual men, it has invariably captured and held the attention of spectators. And these spectators, when they did not take part in the fight, always took sides. It was this conflict of the non-combatants that made public opinion, and public opinion has always played an important rôle in the struggles of men. It is this that has raised war from a mere play of physical forces and given it the tragic significance of a moral struggle, a conflict of good and evil.

The result is that war tends to assume the character of litigation, a judicial procedure, in which custom determines the method of procedure, and the issue of the struggle is accepted as a judgment in the case.

The duello, as distinguished from the wager of battle, although it never had the character of a judicial procedure, developed a strict code which made it morally binding upon the individual to seek redress for wrongs, and determined in advance the methods of procedure by which such redress could and should be obtained. The penalty was a loss of status in the particular group of which the individual was a member.

It was the presence of the public, the ceremonial character of the proceedings, and the conviction that the invisible powers were on the side of truth and justice that gave the trial by ordeal and the trial by battle a significance that neither the duello nor any other form of private vengeance ever had.

It is interesting in this connection, also, that political and judicial forms of procedure are conducted on a conflict pattern. An election is a contest in which we count noses when we do not break heads. A trial by jury is a contest in which the parties are represented by champions, as in the judicial duels of an earlier time.

In general, then, one may say competition becomes conscious and personal in conflict. In the process of transition competitors are transformed into rivals and enemies. In its higher forms, however, conflict becomes impersonal—a struggle to establish and maintain rules of justice and a moral order. In this case the welfare not merely of individual men but of the community is involved. Such are the struggles of political parties and religious sects. Here the issues are not determined by the force and weight of the contestants immediately involved, but to a greater or less extent, by the force and weight of public opinion of the community, and eventually by the judgment of mankind.

2. Classification of the Materials

The materials on conflict have been organized in the readings under four heads: (a) conflict as conscious competition; (b) war, instincts, and ideals; (c) rivalry, cultural conflicts, and social organization; and (d) race conflicts.

a) Conscious competition.—Self-consciousness in the individual arises in the contacts and conflicts of the person with other persons. It manifests itself variously in pride and in humility, vanity and self-respect, modesty and arrogance, pity and disdain, as well as in race prejudice, chauvinism, class and caste distinctions, and in every other social device by which the social distances are maintained.

It is in these various responses called forth by social contacts and intercourse that the personality of the individual is developed and his status defined. It is in the effort to maintain this status or improve it; to defend this personality, enlarge its possessions, extend its privileges, and maintain its prestige that conflicts arise. This applies to all conflicts, whether they are personal and party squabbles, sectarian differences, or national and patriotic wars, for the personality of the individual is invariably so bound up with the interests and order of his group and clan, that, in a struggle, he makes the group cause his own.

Much has been said and written about the economic causes of war, but whatever may be the ultimate sources of our sentiments, it is probably true that men never go to war for economic reasons merely. It is because wealth and possessions are bound up with prestige, honor, and position in the world, that men and nations fight about them.

b) War, instincts, and ideals.—War is the outstanding and the typical example of conflict. In war, where hostility prevails over every interest of sentiment or utility which would otherwise unite the contending parties or groups, the motives and the rôle of conflict in social life present themselves in their clearest outline. There is, moreover, a practical reason for fixing upon war as an illustration of conflict. The tremendous interest in all times manifested in war, the amazing energies and resources released in peoples organized for military aggression or defense, the colossal losses and sacrifices endured for the glory, the honor, or the security of the fatherland have made wars memorable. Of no other of the larger aspects of collective life have we such adequate records.

The problem of the relation of war to human instincts, on the one hand, and to human ideals, on the other, is the issue about which most recent observation and discussion has centered. It seems idle to assert that hostility has no roots in man’s original nature. The concrete materials given in this chapter show beyond question how readily the wishes and the instincts of the person may take the form of the fighting pattern. On the other hand, the notion that tradition, culture, and collective representations have no part in determining the attitudes of nations toward war seems equally untenable. The significant sociological inquiry is to determine just in what ways a conjunction of the tendencies in original nature, the forces of tradition and culture, and the exigencies of the situation determine the organization of the fighting pattern. We have historical examples of warlike peoples becoming peaceful and of pacific nations militaristic. An understanding of the mechanism of the process is a first condition to any exercise of control.

c) Rivalry, cultural conflicts, and social organization.—Rivalry is a sublimated form of conflict where the struggle of individuals is subordinated to the welfare of the group. In the rivalry of groups, likewise, conflict or competition is subordinated to the interests of an inclusive group. Rivalry may then be defined as conflict controlled by the group in its interest. A survey of the phenomena of rivalry brings out its rôle as an organizing force in group life.

In the study of conflict groups it is not always easy to apply with certainty the distinction between rivalry and conflict made here. The sect is a conflict group. In its struggle for survival and success with other groups, its aim is the highest welfare of the inclusive society. Actually, however, sectarian warfare may be against the moral, social, and religious interests of the community. The denomination, which is an accommodation group, strives through rivalry and competition, not only to promote the welfare of the inclusive society, but also of its other component groups.

In cultural and political conflict the function of conflict in social life becomes understandable and reasonable. The rôle of mental conflicts in the life of the individual is for the purpose of making adjustments to changing situations and of assimilating new experiences. It is through this process of conflict of divergent impulses to act that the individual arrives at decisions—as we say, “makes up his mind.” Only where there is conflict is behavior conscious and self-conscious; only here are the conditions for rational conduct.

d) Race conflicts.—Nowhere do social contacts so readily provoke conflicts as in the relations between the races, particularly when racial differences are re-enforced, not merely by differences of culture, but of color. Nowhere, it might be added, are the responses to social contact so obvious and, at the same time, so difficult to analyze and define.

Race prejudice, as we call the sentiments that support the racial taboos, is not, in America at least, an obscure phenomenon. But no one has yet succeeded in making it wholly intelligible. It is evident that there is in race prejudice, as distinguished from class and caste prejudice, an instinctive factor based on the fear of the unfamiliar and the uncomprehended. Color, or any other racial mark that emphasizes physical differences, becomes the symbol of moral divergences which perhaps do not exist. We at once fear and are fascinated by the stranger, and an individual of a different race always seems more of a stranger to us than one of our own. This naïve prejudice, unless it is re-enforced by other factors, is easily modified, as the intimate relations of the Negroes and white man in slavery show.

A more positive factor in racial antagonism is the conflict of cultures: the unwillingness of one race to enter into personal competition with a race of a different or inferior culture. This turns out, in the long run, to be the unwillingness of a people or a class occupying a superior status to compete on equal terms with a people of a lower status. Race conflicts like wars are fundamentally the struggles of racial groups for status. In this sense and from this point of view the struggles of the European nationalities and the so-called “subject peoples” for independence and self-determination are actually struggles for status in the family of nations.

Under the conditions of this struggle, racial or national consciousness as it manifests itself, for example, in Irish nationalism, Jewish Zionism, and Negro race consciousness, is the natural and obvious response to a conflict situation. The nationalistic movements in Europe, in India, and in Egypt are, like war, rivalry and more personal forms of conflict, mainly struggles for recognition—that is, honor, glory, and prestige.

II. MATERIALS

A. CONFLICT AS CONSCIOUS COMPETITION

1. The Natural History of Conflict[206]

All classes of society, and the two sexes to about the same degree, are deeply interested in all forms of contest involving skill and chance, especially where the danger or risk is great. Everybody will stop to watch a street fight, and the same persons would show an equal interest in a prize fight or a bull fight, if certain scruples did not stand in the way of their looking on. Our socially developed sympathy and pity may recoil from witnessing a scene where physical hurt is the object of the game, but the depth of our interest in the conflict type of activity is attested by the fascination which such a game as football has for the masses, where our instinctive emotional reaction to a conflict situation is gratified to an intense degree by a scene of the conflict pattern.

If we examine, in fact, our pleasures and pains, our moments of elation and depression, we find that they go back for the most part to instincts developed in the struggle for food and rivalry for mates. The structure of the organism has been built up gradually through the survival of the most efficient structures. Corresponding with a structure mechanically adapted to successful movements, there is developed on the psychic side an interest in the conflict situation as complete and perfect as is the structure itself. The emotional states are, indeed, organic preparations for action, corresponding broadly with a tendency to advance or retreat; and a connection has even been made out between pleasurable states and the extensor muscles, and painful states and the flexor muscles. We can have no adequate idea of the time consumed and the experiments made in nature before the development of these types of structure and interest of the conflict pattern, but we know from the geological records that the time and experiments were long and many, and the competition so sharp that finally, not in man alone, but in all the higher classes of animals, body and mind, structure and interest, were working perfectly in motor actions of the violent type involved in a life of conflict, competition, and rivalry. There could not have been developed an organism depending on offensive and defensive movements for food and life without an interest in what we call a dangerous or precarious situation. A type without this interest would have been defective, and would have dropped out in the course of development.

The fact that our interests and enthusiasms are called out in situations of the conflict type is shown by a glance at the situations which arouse them most readily. War is simply an organized form of fight, and as such is most attractive, or, to say the least, arouses the interests powerfully. With the accumulation of property and the growth of sensibility and intelligence it becomes apparent that war is a wasteful and unsafe process, and public and personal interests lead us to avoid it as much as possible. But, however genuinely war may be deprecated, it is certainly an exciting game. The Rough Riders in this country recently, and more recently the young men of the aristocracy of England, went to war from motives of patriotism, no doubt, but there are unmistakable evidences that they also regarded it as the greatest sport they were likely to have a chance at in a lifetime. And there is evidence in plenty that the emotional attitude of women toward war is no less intense. Grey relates that half a dozen old women among the Australians will drive the men to war with a neighboring tribe over a fancied injury. The Jewish maidens went out with music and dancing and sang that Saul had slain his thousands, but David his ten thousands. The young women of Havana are alleged, during the late Spanish War, to have sent pieces of their wardrobe to young men of their acquaintance who hesitated to join the rebellion, with the suggestion that they wear these until they went to the war.

The feud is another mode of reaction of the violent, instinctive, and attractive type. The feud was originally of defensive value to the individual and to the tribe, since in the absence of criminal law the feeling that retaliation would follow was a deterrent from acts of aggression. But it was an expensive method of obtaining order in early society, since response to stimulus reinstated the stimulus, and every death called for another death; so, finally, after many experiments and devices, the state has forbidden the individual to take justice into his own hands. In out-of-the-way places, however, where governmental control is weak, men still settle their disputes personally, and one who is familiar with the course of a feud cannot avoid the conclusion that this practice is kept up, not because there is no law to resort to, but because the older mode is more immediate and fascinating. I mean simply that the emotional possibilities and actual emotional reactions in the feud are far more powerful than in due legal process.

Gladiatorial shows, bear baiting, bull fighting, dog and cock fighting, and prize fighting afford an opportunity to gratify the interest in conflict. The spectator has by suggestion emotional reactions analogous to those of the combatant, but without personal danger; and vicarious contests between slaves, captives, and animals, whose blood and life are cheap, are a pleasure which the race allowed itself until a higher stage of morality was reached. Pugilism is the modification of the fight in a slightly different way. The combatants are members of society, not slaves or captives, but the conflict is so qualified as to safeguard their lives, though injury is possible and is actually planned. The intention to do hurt is the point to which society and the law object. But the prize fight is a fight as far as it goes, and the difficulties which men will surmount to “pull off” and to witness these contests are sufficient proof of their fascination. A football game is also a fight, with the additional qualification that no injury is planned, and with an advantage over the prize fight in the fact that it is not a single-handed conflict, but an organized mêlée—a battle where the action is more massive and complex and the strategic opportunities are multiplied. It is a fact of interest in this connection that, unless appearances are deceptive, altogether the larger number of visitors to a university during the year are visitors to the football field. It is the only phase of university life which appeals directly and powerfully to the instincts, and it is consequently the only phase of university life which appeals equally to the man of culture, the artist, the business man, the man about town, the all-round sport, and, in fact, to all the world.

The instincts of man are congenital; the arts and industries are acquired by the race and must be learned by the individual after birth. We have seen why the instinctive activities are pleasurable and the acquired habits irksome. The gambler represents a class of men who have not been weaned from their instincts. There are in every species biological “sports” and reversions, and there are individuals of this kind among sporting men who are not reached by ordinary social suggestion and stimuli. But granting that what we may call the instinctive interests are disproportionately strong in the sporting class, as compared with, say, the merchant class, yet these instincts are also strongly marked in what may roughly be called the artist class and in spite of a marked psychic disposition for stimuli of the emotional type; and precisely because of this disposition, the artist class has a very high social value. Art products are, indeed, perhaps more highly esteemed than any other products whatever. The artist class is not, therefore, socially unmanageable because of its instinctive interest, though perhaps we may say that some of its members are saved from social vagabondage only because their emotional predisposition has found an expression in emotional activities to which some social value can be attached.

2. Conflict as a Type of Social Interaction[207]

That conflict has sociological significance inasmuch as it either produces or modifies communities of interest, unifications, organizations, is in principle never contested. On the other hand, it must appear paradoxical to the ordinary mode of thinking to ask whether conflict itself, without reference to its consequences or its accompaniments, is not a form of socialization. This seems, at first glance, to be merely a verbal question. If every reaction among men is a socialization, of course conflict must count as such, since it is one of the most intense reactions and is logically impossible if restricted to a single element. The actually dissociating elements are the causes of the conflict—hatred and envy, want and desire. If, however, from these impulses conflict has once broken out, it is in reality the way to remove the dualism and to arrive at some form of unity, even if through annihilation of one of the parties. The case is, in a way, illustrated by the most violent symptoms of disease. They frequently represent the efforts of the organism to free itself from disorders and injuries. This is by no means equivalent merely to the triviality, si vis pacem para bellum, but it is the wide generalization of which that special case is a particular. Conflict itself is the resolution of the tension between the contraries. That it eventuates in peace is only a single, specially obvious and evident, expression of the fact that it is a conjunction of elements.

As the individual achieves the unity of his personality, not in such fashion that its contents invariably harmonize according to logical or material, religious or ethical, standards, but rather as contradiction and strife not merely precede that unity but are operative in it at every moment of life; so it is hardly to be expected that there should be any social unity in which the converging tendencies of the elements are not incessantly shot through with elements of divergence. A group which was entirely centripetal and harmonious—that is, “unification” merely—is not only impossible empirically, but it would also display no essential life-process and no stable structure. As the cosmos requires Liebe und Hass, attraction and repulsion, in order to have a form, society likewise requires some quantitative relation of harmony and disharmony, association and dissociation, liking and disliking, in order to attain to a definite formation. Society, as it is given in fact, is the result of both categories of reactions, and in so far both act in a completely positive way. The misconception that the one factor tears down what the other builds up, and that what at last remains is the result of subtracting the one from the other (while in reality it is much rather to be regarded as the addition of one to the other), doubtless springs from the equivocal sense of the concept of unity.

We describe as unity the agreement and the conjunction of social elements in contrast with their disjunctions, separations, disharmonies. We also use the term unity, however, for the total synthesis of the persons, energies, and forms in a group, in which the final wholeness is made up, not merely of those factors which are unifying in the narrower sense, but also of those which are, in the narrower sense, dualistic. We associate a corresponding double meaning with disunity or opposition. Since the latter displays its nullifying or destructive sense between the individual elements, the conclusion is hastily drawn that it must work in the same manner upon the total relationship. In reality, however, it by no means follows that the factor which is something negative and diminutive in its action between individuals, considered in a given direction and separately, has the same working throughout the totality of its relationships. In this larger circle of relationships the perspective may be quite different. That which was negative and dualistic may, after deduction of its destructive action in particular relationships, on the whole, play an entirely positive rôle. This visibly appears especially in those instances where the social structure is characterized by exactness and carefully conserved purity of social divisions and gradations.

The social system of India rests not only upon the hierarchy of the castes but also directly upon the reciprocal repulsion. Enmities not merely prevent gradual disappearance of the boundaries within the society—and for this reason these enmities may be consciously promoted, as guaranty of the existing social constitution—but more than this, the enmities are directly productive sociologically. They give classes and personalities their position toward each other, which they would not have found if these objective causes of hostility had been present and effective in precisely the same way but had not been accompanied by the feeling of enmity. It is by no means certain that a secure and complete community life would always result if these energies should disappear which, looked at in detail, seem repulsive and destructive, just as a qualitatively unchanged and richer property results when unproductive elements disappear; but there would ensue rather a condition as changed, and often as unrealizable, as after the elimination of the forces of co-operation—sympathy, assistance, harmony of interests.

The opposition of one individual element to another in the same association is by no means merely a negative social factor, but it is in many ways the only means through which coexistence with individuals intolerable in themselves could be possible. If we had not power and right to oppose tyranny and obstinacy, caprice and tactlessness, we could not endure relations with people who betray such characteristics. We should be driven to deeds of desperation which would put the relationships to an end. This follows not alone for the self-evident reason—which, however, is not here essential—that such disagreeable circumstances tend to become intensified if they are endured quietly and without protest; but, more than this, opposition affords us a subjective satisfaction, diversion, relief, just as under other psychological conditions, whose variations need not here be discussed, the same results are brought about by humility and patience. Our opposition gives us the feeling that we are not completely crushed in the relationship. It permits us to preserve a consciousness of energy, and thus lends a vitality and a reciprocity to relationships from which, without this corrective, we should have extricated ourselves at any price. In case the relationships are purely external, and consequently do not reach deeply into the practical, the latent form of conflict discharges this service, i.e., aversion, the feeling of reciprocal alienation and repulsion, which in the moment of a more intimate contact of any sort is at once transformed into positive hatred and conflict. Without this aversion life in a great city, which daily brings each into contact with countless others, would have no thinkable form. The activity of our minds responds to almost every impression received from other people in some sort of a definite feeling, all the unconsciousness, transience, and variability of which seem to remain only in the form of a certain indifference. In fact, this latter would be as unnatural for us as it would be intolerable to be swamped under a multitude of suggestions among which we have no choice. Antipathy protects us against these two typical dangers of the great city. It is the initial stage of practical antagonism. It produces the distances and the buffers without which this kind of life could not be led at all. The mass and the mixtures of this life, the forms in which it is carried on, the rhythm of its rise and fall—these unite with the unifying motives, in the narrower sense, to give to a great city the character of an indissoluble whole. Whatever in this whole seems to be an element of division is thus in reality only one of its elementary forms of socialization.

A struggle for struggle’s sake seems to have its natural basis in a certain formal impulse of hostility, which forces itself sometimes upon psychological observation, and in various forms. In the first place, it appears as that natural enmity between man and man which is often emphasized by skeptical moralists. The argument is: Since there is something not wholly displeasing to us in the misfortune of our best friends, and, since the presupposition excludes, in this instance, conflict of material interests, the phenomenon must be traced back to an a priori hostility, to that homo homini lupus, as the frequently veiled, but perhaps never inoperative, basis of all our relationships.

3. Types of Conflict Situations[208]

a) War.—The reciprocal relationship of primitive groups is notoriously, and for reasons frequently discussed almost invariably, one of hostility. The decisive illustration is furnished perhaps by the American Indians, among whom every tribe on general principles was supposed to be on a war footing toward every other tribe with which it had no express treaty of peace. It is, however, not to be forgotten that in early stages of culture war constitutes almost the only form in which contact with an alien group occurs. So long as inter-territorial trade was undeveloped, individual tourneys unknown, and intellectual community did not extend beyond the group boundaries, there was, outside of war, no sociological relationship whatever between the various groups. In this case the relationship of the elements of the group to each other and that of the primitive groups to each other present completely contrasted forms. Within the closed circle hostility signifies, as a rule, the severing of relationships, voluntary isolation, and the avoidance of contact. Along with these negative phenomena there will also appear the phenomena of the passionate reaction of open struggle. On the other hand, the group as a whole remains indifferently side by side with similar groups so long as peace exists. The consequence is that these groups become significant for each other only when war breaks out. That the attitude of hostility, considered likewise from this point of view, may arise independently in the soul is the less to be doubted since it represents here, as in many another easily observable situation, the embodiment of an impulse which is in the first place quite general, but which also occurs in quite peculiar forms, namely, the impulse to act in relationships with others.

In spite of this spontaneity and independence, which we may thus attribute to the antagonistic impulse, there still remains the question whether it suffices to account for the total phenomena of hostility. This question must be answered in the negative. In the first place, the spontaneous impulse does not exercise itself upon every object but only upon those that are in some way promising. Hunger, for example, springs from the subject. It does not have its origin in the object. Nevertheless, it will not attempt to satisfy itself with wood or stone but it will select only edible objects. In the same way, love and hatred, however little their impulses may depend upon external stimuli, will yet need some sort of opposing object, and only with such co-operation will the complete phenomena appear. On the other hand, it seems to me probable that the hostile impulse, on account of its formal character, in general intervenes, only as a reinforcement of conflicts stimulated by material interest, and at the same time furnishes a foundation for the conflict. And where a struggle springs up from sheer formal love of fighting, which is also entirely impersonal and indifferent both to the material at issue and to the personal opponent, hatred and fury against the opponent as a person unavoidably increase in the course of the conflict, and probably also the interest in the stake at issue, because these affections stimulate and feed the psychical energy of the struggle. It is advantageous to hate the opponent with whom one is for any reason struggling, as it is useful to love him with whom one’s lot is united and with whom one must co-operate. The reciprocal attitude of men is often intelligible only on the basis of the perception that actual adaptation to a situation teaches us those feelings which are appropriate to it; feelings which are the most appropriate to the employment or the overcoming of the circumstances of the situation; feelings which bring us, through psychical association, the energies necessary for discharging the momentary task and for defeating the opposing impulses.

Accordingly, no serious struggle can long continue without being supported by a complex of psychic impulses. These may, to be sure, gradually develop into effectiveness in the course of the struggle. The purity of conflict merely for conflict’s sake, accordingly, undergoes adulteration, partly through the admixture of objective interests, partly by the introduction of impulses which may be satisfied otherwise than by struggle, and which, in practice, form a bridge between struggle and other forms of reciprocal relationship. I know in fact only a single case in which the stimulus of struggle and of victory in itself constitutes the exclusive motive, namely, the war game, and only in the case that no further gain is to arise than is included in the outcome of the game itself. In this case the pure sociological attraction of self-assertion and predominance over another in a struggle of skill is combined with purely individual pleasure in the exercise of purposeful and successful activity, together with the excitement of taking risks with the hazard of fortune which stimulates us with a sense of mystic harmony of relationship to powers beyond the individual, as well as the social occurrences. At all events, the war game, in its sociological motivation, contains absolutely nothing but struggle itself. The worthless markers, for the sake of which men often play with the same earnestness with which they play for gold pieces, indicate the formalism of this impulse which, even in the play for gold pieces, often far outweighs the material interest. The thing to be noticed, however, is that, in order that the foregoing situations may occur, certain sociological forms—in the narrower sense, unifications—are presupposed. There must be agreement in order to struggle, and the struggle occurs under reciprocal recognition of norms and rules. In the motivation of the whole procedure these unifications, as said above, do not appear, but the whole transaction shapes itself under the forms which these explicit or implicit agreements furnish. They create the technique. Without this, such a conflict, excluding all heterogeneous or objective factors, would not be possible. Indeed, the conduct of the war game is often so rigorous, so impersonal, and observed on both sides with such nice sense of honor that unities of a corporate order can seldom in these respects compare with it.

b) Feud and faction.—The occasion for separate discussion of the feud is that here, instead of the consciousness of difference, an entirely new motive emerges—the peculiar phenomenon of social hatred, that is, of hatred toward a member of a group, not from personal motives, but because he threatens the existence of the group. In so far as such a danger threatens through feud within the group, the one party hates the other, not alone on the material ground which instigated the quarrel, but also on the sociological ground, namely, that we hate the enemy of the group as such; that is, the one from whom danger to its unity threatens. Inasmuch as this is a reciprocal matter, and each attributes the fault of endangering the whole to the other, the antagonism acquires a severity which does not occur when membership in a group-unity is not a factor in the situation. Most characteristic in this connection are the cases in which an actual dismemberment of the group has not yet occurred. If this dismemberment has already taken place, it signifies a certain termination of the conflict. The individual difference has found its sociological termination, and the stimulus to constantly renewed friction is removed. To this result the tension between antagonism and still persisting unity must directly work. As it is fearful to be at enmity with a person to whom one is nevertheless bound, from whom one cannot be freed, whether externally or subjectively, even if one will, so there is increased bitterness if one will not detach himself from the community because he is not willing to give up the value of membership in the containing unity, or because he feels this unity as an objective good, the threatening of which deserves conflict and hatred. From such a correlation as this springs the embittering with which, for example, quarrels are fought out within a political faction or a trade union or a family.

The individual soul offers an analogy. The feeling that a conflict between sensuous and ascetic feelings, or selfish and moral impulses, or practical and intellectual ambitions, within us not merely lowers the claims of one or both parties and permits neither to come to quite free self-realization but also threatens the unity, the equilibrium, and the total energy of the soul as a whole—this feeling may in many cases repress conflict from the beginning. In case the feeling cannot avail to that extent, it, on the contrary, impresses upon the conflict a character of bitterness and desperation, an emphasis as though a struggle were really taking place for something much more essential than the immediate issue of the controversy. The energy with which each of these tendencies seeks to subdue the others is nourished not only by their egoistic interest but by the interest which goes much farther than that and attaches itself to the unity of the ego, for which this struggle means dismemberment and destruction if it does not end with a victory for unity. Accordingly, struggle within a closely integrated group often enough grows beyond the measure which its object and its immediate interest for the parties could justify. The feeling accumulates that this struggle is an affair not merely of the party but of the group as a whole; that each party must hate in its opponent, not an opponent merely, but at the same time the enemy of its higher sociological unity.

c) Litigation.—Moreover, what we are accustomed to call the joy and passion of conflict in the case of a legal process is probably, in most cases, something quite different, namely, the energetic sense of justice, the impossibility of tolerating an actual or supposed invasion of the sphere of right with which the ego feels a sense of solidarity. The whole obstinacy and uncompromising persistence with which parties in such struggles often maintain the controversy to their own hurt has, even in the case of the aggressive party, scarcely the character of an attack in the proper sense, but rather of a defense in a deeper significance. The point at issue is the self-preservation of the personality which so identifies itself with its possessions and its rights that any invasion of them seems to be a destruction of the personality; and the struggle to protect them at the risk of the whole existence is thoroughly consistent. This individualistic impulse, and not the sociological motive of struggle, will consequently characterize such cases.

With respect to the form of the struggle itself, however, judicial conflict is, to be sure, of an absolute sort; that is, the reciprocal claims are asserted with a relentless objectivity and with employment of all available means, without being diverted or modified by personal or other extraneous considerations. The judicial conflict is, therefore, absolute conflict in so far as nothing enters the whole action which does not properly belong in the conflict and which does not serve the ends of conflict; whereas, otherwise, even in the most savage struggles, something subjective, some pure freak of fortune, some sort of interposition from a third side, is at least possible. In the legal struggle everything of the kind is excluded by the matter-of-factness with which the contention, and absolutely nothing outside the contention, is kept in view. This exclusion from the judicial controversy of everything which is not material to the conflict may, to be sure, lead to a formalism of the struggle which may come to have an independent character in contrast with the content itself. This occurs, on the one hand, when real elements are not weighed against each other at all but only quite abstract notions maintain controversy with each other. On the other hand, the controversy is often shifted to elements which have no relation whatever to the subject which is to be decided by the struggle. Where legal controversies, accordingly, in higher civilizations are fought out by attorneys, the device serves to abstract the controversy from all personal associations which are essentially irrelevant. If, on the other hand, Otto the Great ordains that a legal controversy shall be settled by judicial duel between professional fighters, there remains of the whole struggle of interests only the bare form, namely, that there shall be struggle and victory.

This latter case portrays, in the exaggeration of caricature, the reduction of the judicial conflict to the mere struggle element. But precisely through its pure objectivity because it stands quite beyond the subjective antitheses of pity and cruelty, this unpitying type of struggle, as a whole, rests on the presupposition of a unity and a community of the parties never elsewhere so severely and constantly maintained. The common subordination to the law, the reciprocal recognition that the decision can be made only according to the objective weight of the evidence, the observance of forms which are held to be inviolable by both parties, the consciousness throughout the whole procedure of being encompassed by a social power and order which are the means of giving to the procedure its significance and security—all this makes the legal controversy rest upon a broad basis of community and consensus between the opponents. It is really a unity of a lesser degree which is constituted by the parties to a compact or to a commercial transaction, a presupposition of which is the recognition, along with the antithesis of interests, that they are subject to certain common, constraining, and obligatory rules. The common presuppositions, which exclude everything that is merely personal from the legal controversy, have that character of pure objectivity to which, on its side, the sharpness, the inexorableness, and the absoluteness of the species of struggle correspond. The reciprocity between the dualism and the unity of the sociological relationship is accordingly shown by the judicial struggle not less than by the war game. Precisely the most extreme and unlimited phases of struggle occur in both cases, since the struggle is surrounded and maintained by the severe unity of common norms and limitations.

d) The conflict of impersonal ideals.—Finally, there is the situation in which the parties are moved by an objective interest; that is, where the interest of the struggle, and consequently the struggle itself, is differentiated from the personality. The consciousness of being merely the representative of superindividual claims—that is, of fighting not for self but only for the thing itself—may lend to the struggle a radicalism and mercilessness which have their analogy in the total conduct of many very unselfish and high-minded men. Because they grant themselves no consideration, they likewise have none for others and hold themselves entirely justified in sacrificing everybody else to the idea to which they are themselves a sacrifice. Such a struggle, into which all the powers of the person are thrown, while victory accrues only to the cause, carries the character of respectability, for the reputable man is the wholly personal, who, however, understands how to hold his personality entirely in check. Hence objectivity operates as noblesse. When, however, this differentiation is accomplished, and struggle is objectified, it is not subjected to a further reserve, which would be quite inconsistent; indeed, that would be a sin against the content of the interest itself upon which the struggle had been localized. On the basis of this common element between the parties—namely, that each defends merely the issue and its right, and excludes from consideration everything selfishly personal—the struggle is fought out without the sharpness, but also without the mollifyings, which come from intermingling of the personal element. Merely the immanent logic of the situation is obeyed with absolute precision. This form of antithesis between unity and antagonism intensifies conflict perhaps most perceptibly in cases where both parties actually pursue one and the same purpose; for example, in the case of scientific controversies, in which the issue is the establishment of the truth. In such a case, every concession, every polite consent to stop short of exposing the errors of the opponent in the most unpitying fashion, every conclusion of peace previous to decisive victory, would be treason against that reality for the sake of which the personal element is excluded from the conflict.

With endless varieties otherwise, the social struggles since Marx have developed themselves in the above form. Since it is recognized that the situation of laborers is determined by the objective organization and formulas of the productive system, independent of the will and power of individual persons, the personal embitterment incident to the struggle in general and to local conflicts exemplifying the general conflict necessarily diminishes. The entrepreneur is no longer, as such, a blood-sucker and damnable egotist; the laborer is no longer universally assumed to act from sinful greed; both parties begin, at least, to abandon the program of charging the other with demands and tactics inspired by personal malevolence. This literalizing of the conflict has come about in Germany rather along the lines of theory; in England, through the operation of the trade unions, in the course of which the individually personal element of the antagonism has been overcome. In Germany this was effected largely through the more abstract generalization of the historical and class movement. In England it came about through the severe superindividual unity in the actions of the unions and of the combinations of employers. The intensity of the struggle, however, has not on that account diminished. On the contrary, it has become much more conscious of its purpose, more concentrated, and at the same time more aggressive, through the consciousness of the individual that he is struggling not merely, and often not at all, for himself but rather for a vast superpersonal end.

A most interesting symptom of this correlation was presented by the boycotting of the Berlin breweries by the labor body in the year 1894. This was one of the most intense local struggles of the last decade. It was carried on by both sides with extraordinary energy, yet without any personal offensiveness on either side toward the other, although the stimulus was close at hand. Indeed, two of the party leaders, in the midst of the struggle, published their opinions about it in the same journal. They agreed in their formulation of the objective facts, and disagreed in a partisan spirit only in the practical conclusions drawn from the facts. Inasmuch as the struggle eliminated everything irrelevantly personal, and thereby restricted antagonism quantitatively, facilitating an understanding about everything personal, producing a recognition of being impelled on both sides by historical necessities, this common basis did not reduce but rather increased, the intensity, the irreconcilability, and the obstinate consistency of the struggle.

B. WAR, INSTINCTS, AND IDEALS

1. War and Human Nature[209]

What can be said of the causes of war—not its political and economic causes, nor yet the causes that are put forth by the nations engaged in the conflict, but its psychological causes?

The fact that war to no small extent removes cultural repressions and allows the instincts to come to expression in full force is undoubtedly a considerable factor. In his unconscious man really takes pleasure in throwing aside restraints and permitting himself the luxury of the untrammeled expression of his primitive animal tendencies. The social conventions, the customs, the forms, and institutions which he has built up in the path of his cultural progress represent so much energy in the service of repression. Repression represents continuous effort, while a state of war permits a relaxation of this effort and therefore relief.

We are familiar, in other fields, with the phenomena of the unconscious, instinctive tendencies breaking through the bounds imposed upon them by repression. The phenomena of crime and of so-called “insanity” represent such examples, while drunkenness is one instance familiar to all. In vino veritas expresses the state of the drunken man when his real, that is, his primitive, self frees itself from restraint and runs riot. The psychology of the crowd shows this mechanism at work, particularly in such sinister instances as lynching, while every crowd of college students marching yelling and howling down the main street of the town after a successful cane rush exhibits the joy of unbottling the emotions in ways that no individual would for a moment think of availing himself.

In addition to these active demonstrations of the unconscious there are those of a more passive sort. Not a few men are only too glad to step aside from the burden of responsibilities which they are forced to carry and seek refuge in a situation in which they no longer have to take the initiative but must only do as they are directed by a superior authority. The government in some of its agencies takes over certain of their obligations, such as the support of wife and children, and they clear out, free from the whole sordid problem of poverty, into a situation filled with dramatic interest. Then, too, if anything goes wrong at home they are not to blame, they have done their best, and what they have done meets with public approval. Is it any wonder that an inhabitant of the slums should be glad to exchange poverty and dirt, a sick wife and half-starved children, for glorious freedom, especially when he is urged by every sort of appeal to patriotism and duty to do so?

But all these are individual factors that enter into the causes of war. They represent some of the reasons why men like to fight, for it is difficult not to believe that if no one wanted to fight war would be possible at all. They too represent the darker side of the picture. War as already indicated offers, on the positive side, the greatest opportunities for the altruistic tendencies; it offers the most glorious occasion for service and returns for such acts the greatest possible premium in social esteem. But it seems to me that the causes of war lie much deeper, that they involve primarily the problems of the herd rather than the individual, and I think there are good biological analogies which make this highly probable.

The mechanism of integration explains how the development of the group was dependent upon the subordination of the parts to the whole. This process of integration tends to solve more and more effectively the problems of adjustment, particularly in some aspects, in the direction of ever-increasing stability. It is the process of the structuralization of function. This increase in stability, however, while it has the advantage of greater certainty of reaction, has the disadvantage of a lessened capacity for variation, and so is dependent for its efficiency upon a stable environment. As long as nothing unusual is asked of such a mechanism it works admirably, but as soon as the unusual arises it tends to break down completely. Life, however, is not stable; it is fluid, in a continuous state of flux, so, while the development of structure to meet certain demands of adaptation is highly desirable and necessary, it of necessity has limits which must sooner or later be reached in every instance. The most typical example of this is the process of growing old. The child is highly adjustable and for that reason not to be depended upon; the adult is more dependable but less adjustable; the old man has become stereotyped in his reactions. Nature’s solution of this impasse is death. Death insures the continual removal of the no longer adjustable, and the places of those who die are filled by new material capable of the new demands. But it is the means that nature takes to secure the renewal of material still capable of adjustment that is of significance. From each adult sometime during the course of his life nature provides that a small bit shall be detached which, in the higher animals, in union with a similar detached bit of another individual will develop into a child and ultimately be ready to replace the adult when he becomes senile and dies. Life is thus maintained by a continuous stream of germ plasm and is not periodically interrupted in its course, as it seems to be, by death.

The characteristics of this detached bit of germ plasm are interesting. It does not manifest any of that complicated structure which we meet with in the other parts of the body. The several parts of the body are highly differentiated, each for a specific function. Gland cells are developed to secrete, muscle cells to contract, bone cells to withstand mechanical stresses, etc. Manifestly development along any one of these lines would not produce an individual possessing, in its several parts, all of these qualities. Development has to go back of the point of origin of these several variations in order to include them all. In other words, regeneration has to start with relatively undifferentiated material. This is excellently illustrated by many of the lower, particularly the unicellular, animals, in which reproduction is not yet sexual, but by the simple method of division. A cell comes to rest, divides into two, and each half then leads an independent existence. Before such a division and while the cell is quiescent—in the resting stage, as it is called—the differentiations of structure which it had acquired in its lifetime disappear; it becomes undifferentiated, relatively simple in structure. This process has been called dedifferentiation. When all the differentiations which had been acquired have been eliminated, then division—rejuvenescence—takes place.

From this point of view we may see in war the preliminary process of rejuvenescence. International adjustments and compromises are made until they can be made no longer; a condition is brought about which in Europe has been termed the balance of power, until the situation becomes so complicated that each new adjustment has such wide ramifications that it threatens the whole structure. Finally, as the result of the accumulated structure of diplomatic relations and precedents, a situation arises to which adjustment, with the machinery that has been developed, is impossible and the whole house of cards collapses. The collapse is a process of dedifferentiation during which the old structures are destroyed, precedents are disavowed, new situations occur with bewildering rapidity, for dealing with which there is no recognized machinery available. Society reverts from a state in which a high grade of individual initiative and development was possible to a relatively communistic and paternalistic state, the slate is wiped clear, and a start can be made anew along lines of progress mapped out by the new conditions—rejuvenescence is possible.

War, from this point of view, is a precondition for development along new lines of necessity, and the dedifferentiation is the first stage of a constructive process. Old institutions have to be torn down before the bricks with which they were built can be made available for new structures. This accounts for the periodicity of war, which thus is the outward and evident aspect of the progress of the life-force which in human societies, as elsewhere, advances in cycles. It is only by such means that an impasse can be overcome.

War is an example of ambivalency on the grandest scale. That is, it is at once potent for the greatest good and the greatest evil: in the very midst of death it calls for the most intense living; in the face of the greatest renunciation it offers the greatest premium; for the maximum of freedom it demands the utmost giving of one’s self; in order to live at one’s best it demands the giving of life itself. “No man has reached his ethical majority who would not die if the real interests of the community could thus be furthered. What would the world be without the values that have been bought at the price of death?” In this sense the great creative force, love, and the supreme negation, death, become one. That the larger life of the race should go forward to greater things, the smaller life of the individual must perish. In order that man shall be born again, he must first die.

Does all this necessarily mean that war, from time to time, in the process of readjustment, is essential? I think no one can doubt that it has been necessary in the past. Whether it will be in the future depends upon whether some sublimated form of procedure can adequately be substituted. We have succeeded to a large extent in dealing with our combative instincts by developing sports and the competition of business, and we have largely sublimated our hate instinct in dealing with various forms of anti-social conduct as exhibited in the so-called “criminal.” It remains to be seen whether nations can unite to a similar end and perhaps, by the establishment of an international court, and by other means, deal in a similar way with infractions of international law.

2. War as a Form of Relaxation[210]

The fact is that it does not take a very careful reader of the human mind to see that all the utopias and all the socialistic schemes are based on a mistaken notion of the nature of this mind.

It is by no means sure that what man wants is peace and quiet and tranquillity. That is too close to ennui, which is his greatest dread. What man wants is not peace but a battle. He must pit his force against someone or something. Every language is most rich in synonyms for battle, war, contest, conflict, quarrel, combat, fight. German children play all day long with their toy soldiers. Our sports take the form of contests in football, baseball, and hundreds of others. Prize fights, dog fights, cock fights, have pleased in all ages. When Rome for a season was not engaged in real war, Claudius staged a sea fight for the delectation of an immense concourse, in which 19,000 gladiators were compelled to take a tragic part, so that the ships were broken to pieces and the waters of the lake were red with blood.

You may perhaps recall Professor James’s astonishing picture of his visit to a Chautauqua. Here he found modern culture at its best, no poverty, no drunkenness, no zymotic diseases, no crime, no police, only polite and refined and harmless people. Here was a middle-class paradise, kindergarten and model schools, lectures and classes and music, bicycling and swimming, and culture and kindness and elysian peace. But at the end of a week he came out into the real world, and he said:

What men want, he says, is something more precipitous, something with more zest in it, with more adventure. Nearly all the Utopias paint the life of the future as a kind of giant Chautauqua, in which every man and woman is at work, all are well fed, satisfied, and cultivated. But as man is now constituted he would probably find such a life flat, stale, and unprofitable.

Man is not originally a working animal. Civilization has imposed work upon man, and if you work him too hard he will quit work and go to war. Nietzsche says man wants two things—danger and play. War represents danger.

It follows that all our social utopias are wrongly conceived. They are all based on a theory of pleasure economy. But history and evolution show that man has come up from the lower animals through a pain economy. He has struggled up—fought his way up through never-ceasing pain and effort and struggle and battle. The utopias picture a society in which man has ceased to struggle. He works his eight hours a day—everybody works—and he sleeps and enjoys himself the other hours. But man is not a working animal, he is a fighting animal. The utopias are ideal—but they are not psychological. The citizens for such an ideal social order are lacking. Human beings will not serve.

Our present society tends more and more in its outward form in time of peace toward the Chautauqua plan, but meanwhile striving and passion burn in the brain of the human units, till the time comes when they find this insipid life unendurable. They resort to amusement crazes, to narcotic drugs, to political strife, to epidemics of crime, and finally to war. The alcohol question well illustrates the tendencies we are pointing out. Science and hygiene have at last shown beyond all question that alcohol, whether in large or smaller doses, exerts a damaging effect upon both mind and body. It lessens physical and mental efficiency, shortens life, and encourages social disorder. In spite of this fact and, what is still more amazing, in spite of the colossal effort now being put forth to suppress by legislative means the traffic in liquor, the per capita consumption of alcoholic drinks in the United States increases from year to year. From a per capita consumption of four gallons in 1850, it has steadily risen to nearly twenty-five gallons in 1913.

Narcotic drugs, such as alcohol and tobacco, relieve in an artificial way the tension upon the brain by slightly paralyzing temporarily the higher and more recently developed brain centers. The increase in the use of these drugs is therefore both an index of the tension of modern life and at the same time a means of relieving it to some extent. Were the use of these drugs suddenly checked, no student of psychology or of history could doubt that there would be an immediate increase of social irritability, tending to social instability and social upheavals.

Psychology, therefore, forces upon us this conclusion. Neither war nor alcohol can be banished from the world by summary means nor direct suppressions. The mind of man must be made over. As the mind of man is constituted, he will never be content to be a mere laborer, a producer and a consumer. He loves adventure, self-sacrifice, heroism, relaxation.

These things must somehow be provided. And then there must be a system of education of our young differing widely from our present system. The new education will not look to efficiency merely and ever more efficiency, but to the production of a harmonized and balanced personality. We must cease our worship of American efficiency and German Streberthum and go back to Aristotle and his teaching of “the mean.”

3. The Fighting Animal and the Great Society[211]

We must agree that man as he has existed, so far as we can read the story of his development, has been, and as he exists today still is, a fighting animal—that is to say that he has in the past answered, and still answers, certain stimuli by the immediate reactions which constitute fighting.

We find evidence of the existence of this fighting instinct in the ordinary men around us. Remove but for a moment the restraints given in our civilized lands and this tendency is likely to become prominent upon the slightest stimulation. We see this exemplified in the lives of the pioneer and adventurer the world over: in that of the cowboy of the far West, in that of the rubber collector on the Amazon, in that of the ivory trader on the Congo.

Then, too, the prize fighter is still a prominent person in our community, taken as a whole, and even in our sports, as engaged in by “gentlemen amateurs,” we find it necessary to make rigid rules to prevent the friendly contest from developing into a fierce struggle for individual physical dominance.

But man gained his pre-eminent position among the animals mainly through his ability to form co-operative groups working to common ends; and long before the times of which anthropological research give us any clear knowledge, man had turned his individualistic fighting instincts to the service of his group or clan. That is to say, he had become a warrior, giving his best strength to co-operative aggression in behalf of satisfactions that could not be won by him as an individual acting for himself.

Our earlier studies have taught us also that if man’s instinctive tendencies could in any manner be inhibited or modified, so that he came to display other characteristics than those observed in the present expression of these inborn instincts, then the law of his nature would in that very fact be changed. We are thus led to ask whether the biologist finds evidence that an animal’s instincts can be thus changed in mode of expression.

The biologist speaks to us somewhat as follows. Although new racial characteristics have very rarely, if ever, been gained by the obliteration of instincts, changes in racial characteristics have not infrequently occurred as the result of the control, rather than the loss, of these inherited instincts.

This control may become effective in either one of two ways: first, by the thwarting or inhibition of the expression of the instincts; or secondly, by the turning of its expression to other uses than that which originally resulted in its fixation.

As an example of the thwarting of the expression of an instinct we may take the functioning of the sexual instinct, which, as we see it in animals in general, has been inhibited in the human animal by the habits acquired by man as he has risen in the scale.

This mode of change—that of the mere chaining of the instinctive tendency—is subject to one great difficulty. The chain may by chance be broken; the inhibition may be removed; then the natural instinctive tendency at once shows itself. Remove the restraints of civilized society but a little, and manifestations of the sexual instinct of our race appear in forms that are not far removed from those observed in the animal. Place a man under conditions of starvation and he shows himself as greedy as the dog.

The second mode of change—that of the transference of functioning of the instincts into new channels—meets this special difficulty, for it does not depend upon the chaining of the instinct. It actually makes use of the instinct. And the more important to the race the newer reference of the instinct’s functioning turns out to be, the more certain is it to replace the original reference. If the new mode of functioning brings marked advantage that is lost by reversion to the earlier manifestation of the instinct, so that such a reversion to this earlier manifestation is a detriment to the race, then the change is likely to become a permanent one.

No better example of this second mode of change of an instinct’s functioning can be found than in the very existence of war itself. The basic instinct is one that led the savage man to fight to protect himself or to gain something for himself by aggressive attack. War has come into being as the result of a transfer of the functioning of this instinct, which at first had only an individualistic reference, so that it has come to have a clan or national reference. The early man found he could not have success as an individual unless he joined with his fellow-men in defense and aggression; and that meant war.

And note that this transfer of reference of the expression of this fighting instinct soon became so important to the race that reversion to its primal individualistic reference had to be inhibited. Aggressive attack by an individual upon another of his own clan or nation necessarily tended to weaken the social unit and to reduce its strength in its protective and aggressive wars; and thus such attacks by individuals came to be discountenanced and finally in large measure repressed.

Here, it will be observed, the fighting instinct of the individual has not been obliterated; it has not even been bound with chains; but its modes of expression have been altered to have racial significance, and to have so great a significance in this new relation that reversion to its primary form of expression has become a serious obstacle to racial advance.

So it appears after all that, although instincts can rarely if ever be obliterated, their manifestations may be so altered as to give the animal quite new characteristics. And this means that if the characteristics which we describe as the expressions of man’s fighting instincts could be so changed that these expressions were inhibited or turned into quite new channels, the man would no longer be describable as a fighting animal.

The first indication in our conscious life of any tendency to inhibit or modify the functioning of any instinct or habit must appear in the form of a dislike of, a revulsion from, the resultants of this functioning; and in the creation of an ideal of functioning that shall avoid the discomforts attendant upon this revulsion. And when such an ideal has once been gained, it is possible, as we have seen, that the characteristics of nature may be changed by our creative efficiency through the devising of means looking to the realization of the ideal.

We have the clearest evidence that this process is developing in connection with these special instincts that make for war; for we men and women in these later times are repelled by the results of the functioning of these fighting instincts, and we have created the ideal of peace, the conception of a condition that is not now realized in nature, but which we think of as possible of realization.

But the very existence of an ideal is indicative of a tendency, on the part of the man who entertains it, to modify his characteristic activities. Thus it appears that we have in the very existence of this ideal of peace the evidence that we may look for a change in man’s nature, the result of which will be that we shall no longer be warranted in describing him as a fighting animal.

C. RIVALRY, CULTURAL CONFLICTS, AND SOCIAL ORGANIZATION

1. Animal Rivalry[212]

Among mammals the instinct of one and all is to lord it over the others, with the result that the one more powerful or domineering gets the mastery, to keep it thereafter as long as he can. The lower animals are, in this respect, very much like us; and in all kinds that are at all fierce-tempered the mastery of one over all, and of a few under him over the others, is most salutary; indeed, it is inconceivable that they should be able to exist together under any other system.

On cattle-breeding establishments on the pampas, where it is usual to keep a large number of fierce-tempered dogs, I have observed these animals a great deal and presume they are much like feral dogs and wolves in their habits. Their quarrels are incessant; but when a fight begins, the head of the pack as a rule rushes to the spot, whereupon the fighters separate and march off in different directions or else cast themselves down and deprecate their tyrant’s wrath with abject gestures and whines. If the combatants are both strong and have worked themselves into a mad rage before their head puts in an appearance, it may go hard with him; they know him no longer and all he can do is to join in the fray; then if the fighters turn on him he may be so injured that his power is gone and the next best dog in the pack takes his place. The hottest contests are always between dogs that are well matched; neither will give place to the other and so they fight it out; but from the foremost in power down to the weakest there is a gradation of authority; each one knows just how far he can go, which companion he can bully when he is in a bad temper or wishes to assert himself, and to which he must humbly yield in his turn. In such a state the weakest one must yield to all the others and cast himself down, seeming to call himself a slave and worshiper of any other member of the pack that chances to snarl at him or command him to give up his bone with good grace.

This masterful or domineering temper, so common among social mammals, is the cause of the persecution of the sick and weakly. When an animal begins to ail he can no longer hold his own; he ceases to resent the occasional ill-natured attacks made on him; his non-combative condition is quickly discovered, and he at once drops down to a place below the lowest; it is common knowledge in the herd that he may be buffeted with impunity by all, even by those that have hitherto suffered buffets but have given none. But judging from my own observation, this persecution is not, as a rule, severe, and is seldom fatal.

2. The Rivalry of Social Groups[213]

Conflict, competition, and rivalry are the chief causes which force human beings into groups and largely determine what goes on within them. Conflicts, like wars, revolutions, riots, still persist, but possibly they may be thought of as gradually yielding to competitions which are chiefly economic. Many of these strivings seem almost wholly individual, but most of them on careful analysis turn out to be intimately related to group competition. A third form, rivalry, describes struggle for status, for social prestige, for the approval of inclusive publics which form the spectators for such contests. The nation is an arena of competition and rivalry.

Much of this emulation is of a concealed sort. Beneath the union services of churches there is an element, for the most part unconscious, of rivalry to secure the approval of a public which in these days demands brotherliness and good will rather than proselyting and polemics. Many public subscriptions for a common cause are based upon group rivalry or upon individual competition which is group-determined. The Rhodes scholarships are in one sense a means of furthering imperial interest. Christmas presents lavished upon children often have a bearing upon the ambition of the family to make an impression upon rival domestic groups. In the liberal policy of universities which by adding to the list of admission subjects desire to come into closer relations with the public schools, there is some trace of competition for students and popular applause. The interest which nations manifest in the Hague Tribunal is tinged with a desire to gain the good will of the international, peace-praising public. The professed eagerness of one or both parties in a labor dispute to have the differences settled by arbitration is a form of competition for the favor of the onlooking community. Thus in international relationships and in the life-process of each nation countless groups are in conflict, competition, or rivalry.

This idea of the group seeking survival, mastery, aggrandizement, prestige, in its struggles with other groups is a valuable means of interpretation. Let us survey rapidly the conditions of success as a group carries on its life of strife and emulation. In order to survive or to succeed the group must organize, cozen, discipline, and stimulate its members. Fortunately it finds human nature in a great measure fashioned for control.

Collective pride or group egotism is an essential source of strength in conflict. Every efficient group cultivates this sense of honor, importance, superiority, by many devices of symbol, phrase, and legend, as well as by scorn and ridicule of rivals. The college fraternity’s sublime self-esteem gives it strength in its competition for members and prestige. There is a chauvinism of “boom” towns and religious sects, as well as of nations. What pride and self-confidence are to the individual, ethnocentrism, patriotism, local loyalty are to social unities. Diffidence, humility, self-distrust, tolerance, are as dangerous to militant groups as to fighting men.

Then too the group works out types of personality, hero types to be emulated, traitor types to be execrated. These personality types merge into abstract ideals and standards. “Booster” and “knocker” bring up pictures of a struggling community which must preserve its hopefulness and self-esteem at all hazards. “Statesman” and “demagogue” recall the problem of selection which every self-governing community must face. “Defender of the faith” and “heretic” are eloquent of the Church’s dilemma between rigid orthodoxy and flexible accommodation to a changing order.

With a shifting in the conflict or rivalry crises, types change in value or emphasis, or new types are created in adjustment to the new needs. The United Stated at war with Spain sought martial heroes. The economic and political ideals of personality, the captains of industry, the fascinating financiers, the party idols, were for the time retired to make way for generals and admirals, soldiers and sailors, the heroes of camp and battleship. The war once over, the displaced types reappeared along with others which are being created to meet new administrative, economic, and ethical problems. The competing church retires its militant and disputatious leaders in an age which gives its applause to apostles of concord, fraternal feeling, and co-operation. At a given time the heroes and traitors of a group reflect its competitions and rivalries with other groups.

Struggle forces upon the group the necessity of cozening, beguiling, managing its members. The vast majority of these fall into a broad zone of mediocrity which embodies group character and represents a general adjustment to life-conditions. From this medial area individuals vary, some in ways which aid the group in its competition, others in a fashion which imperils group success. It is the task of the group both to preserve the solidarity of the medial zone and to discriminate between the serviceable and the menacing variants. The latter must be coerced or suppressed, the former encouraged and given opportunity. In Plato’s Republic the guardians did this work of selection which in modern groups is cared for by processes which seem only slightly conscious and purposeful.

The competing group in seeking to insure acquiescence and loyalty elaborates a protective philosophy by which it creates within its members the belief that their lot is much to be preferred to that of other comradeships and associations. Western Americans take satisfaction in living in a free, progressive, hospitable way in “God’s country.” They try not to be pharisaical about the narrowness of the East, but they achieve a sincere scorn for the hidebound conventions of an effete society. Easterners in turn count themselves fortunate in having a highly developed civilization, and they usually attain real pity for those who seem to live upon a psychic, if not a geographic, frontier. The middle class have a philosophy with which they protect themselves against the insidious suggestions that come from the life of the conspicuous rich. These, on the other hand, half expecting that simplicity and domesticity may have some virtue, speak superciliously of middle-class smugness and the bourgeois “home.” The less prosperous of the professional classes are prone to lay a good deal of stress upon their intellectual resources as compared with the presumptive spiritual poverty of the affluent. Country folk encourage themselves by asserting their fundamental value to society and by extolling their own simple straightforward virtues, which present so marked a contrast to the devious machinations of city-dwellers. Booker Washington’s reiterated assertion that if he were to be born again he would choose to be a Negro because the Negro race is the only one which has a great problem contains a suggestion of this protective philosophy. This tendency of a group to fortify itself by a satisfying theory of its lot is obviously related to group egotism and is immediately connected with group rivalry.

The competing group derides many a dissenter into conformity. This derision may be spontaneous, or reflective and concerted. The loud guffaw which greets one who varies in dress or speech or idea may come instantly or there may be a planned and co-operative ridicule systematically applied to the recalcitrant. Derision is one of the most effective devices by which the group sifts and tests the variants.

Upon the small number of rebels who turn a deaf ear to epithets, ostracism is brought to bear. This may vary from the “cold shoulder” to the complete “boycott.” Losing the friendship and approval of comrades, being cut off from social sympathy, is a familiar form of group pressure. Ridicule and derision are a kind of evanescent ostracism, a temporary exclusion from the comradeship. There are many degrees in the lowering of the social temperature: coolness, formality of intercourse, averted looks, “cutting dead,” “sending to Coventry,” form a progressive series. Economic pressure is more and more a resort of modern groups. Loss of employment, trade, or professional practice brings many a rebel to time. All coercion obviously increases as the group is hard pressed in its conflicts, competitions, and rivalries.

These crises and conflicts of a competing group present problems which must be solved—problems of organization, of inventions of many kinds, of new ideas and philosophies, of methods of adjustment. The conditions of competition or rivalry upset an equilibrium of habit and custom, and a process of problem-solving ensues. A typhoid epidemic forces the village to protect itself against the competition of a more healthful rival. The resourceful labor union facing a corporation which offers profit-sharing and retiring allowances must formulate a protective theory and practice. A society clique too closely imitated by a lower stratum must regain its distinction and supremacy. A nation must be constantly alert to adjust itself to the changing conditions of international trade and to the war equipment and training of its rivals.

The theory of group rivalry throws light upon the individual. The person has as many selves as there are groups to which he belongs. He is simple or complex as his groups are few and harmonious or many and conflicting. What skilful management is required to keep business and moral selves from looking each other in the eye, to prevent scientific and theological selves from falling into discussion! Most men of many groups learn, like tactful hosts, to invite at a given time only congenial companies of selves. A few brave souls resolve to set their house in order and to entertain only such selves as can live together with good will and mutual respect. With these earnest folk their groups have to reckon. The conflicts of conscience are group conflicts.

Tolerance is a sign that once vital issues within the group are losing their significance, or that the group feels secure, or that it is slowly, even unconsciously, merging into a wider grouping. Theological liberality affords a case in point. In the earlier days of sectarian struggle tolerance was a danger both to group loyalty and to the militant spirit. Cynicism for other reasons is also a menace. It means loss of faith in the collective ego, in the traditions, shibboleths, symbols, and destiny of the group. Fighting groups cannot be tolerant; nor can they harbor cynics. Tolerance and cynicism are at once causes and results of group decay. They portend dissolution or they foreshadow new groupings for struggle over other issues on another plane. Evangelical churches are drawing together with mutual tolerance to present a united front against modern skepticism and cynicism which are directed against the older faiths and moralities.

The subjective side of group rivalry offers an important study. The reflection of the process of control in personal consciousness is full of interest. The means by which the rebellious variant protects himself against the coercion of his comrades have been already suggested in the description of ridicule and epithet. These protective methods resolve themselves into setting one group against another in the mind of the derided or stigmatized individual.

A national group is to be thought of as an inclusive unity with a fundamental character, upon the basis of which a multitude of groups compete with and rival each other. It is the task of the nation to control and to utilize this group struggle, to keep it on as high a plane as possible, to turn it to the common account. Government gets its chief meaning from the rivalry of groups to grasp political power in their own interests. Aristocracy and democracy may be interpreted in terms of group antagonism, the specialized few versus the undifferentiated many. The ideal merges the two elements of efficiency and solidarity in one larger group within which mutual confidence and emulation take the place of conflict. Just as persons must be disciplined into serving their groups, groups must be subordinated to the welfare of the nation. It is in conflict or competition with other nations that a country becomes a vivid unity to the members of constituent groups. It is rivalry which brings out the sense of team work, the social consciousness.

3. Cultural Conflicts and the Organization of Sects[214]

It is assumed, I suppose, that contradictions among ideas and beliefs are of various degrees and of various modes besides that specific one which we call logical incompatibility. A perception, for example, may be pictorially inconsistent or tonically discordant with another perception; a mere faith unsupported by objective evidence may be emotionally antagonistic to another mere faith, as truly as a judgment may be logically irreconcilable with another judgment. And this wide possibility of contradiction is particularly to be recognized when the differing ideas or beliefs have arisen not within the same individual mind but in different minds, and are therefore colored by personal or partisan interest and warped by idiosyncrasy of mental constitution. The contradictions of, or rather among, ideas and beliefs, with which we are now concerned, are more extensive and more varied than mere logical duels; they are also less definite, less precise. In reality they are culture conflicts in which the opposing forces, so far from being specific ideas only or pristine beliefs only, are in fact more or less bewildering complexes of ideas, beliefs, prejudices, sympathies, antipathies, and personal interests.

It is assumed also, I suppose, that any idea or group of ideas, any belief or group of beliefs, may happen to be or may become a common interest, shared by a small or a large number of individuals. It may draw and hold them together in bonds of acquaintance, of association, even of co-operation. It thus may play a group-making rôle. Contradictory ideas or beliefs, therefore, may play a group-making rôle in a double sense. Each draws into association the individual minds that entertain it or find it attractive. Each also repels those minds to whom it is repugnant, and drives them toward the group which is being formed about the contradictory idea or belief. Contradictions among ideas and beliefs, then, it may be assumed, tend on the whole to sharpen the lines of demarcation between group and group.

These assumptions are, I suppose, so fully justified by the everyday observation of mankind and so confirmed by history that it is unnecessary now to discuss them or in any way to dwell upon them. The question before us therefore becomes specific: “Are contradictions among ideas and beliefs likely to play an important group-making rôle in the future?” I shall interpret the word important as connoting quality as well as quantity. I shall, in fact, attempt to answer the question set for me by translating it into this inquiry, namely: What kind or type of groups are the inevitable contradictions among ideas and beliefs most likely to create and to maintain within the progressive populations of the world from this time forth?

Somewhat more than three hundred years ago, Protestantism and geographical discovery had combined to create conditions extraordinarily favorable to the formation of groups or associations about various conflicting ideas and beliefs functioning as nuclei; and for nearly three hundred years the world has been observing a remarkable multiplication of culture groups of two fundamentally different types. One type is a sect, or denomination, having no restricted local habitation but winning adherents here and there in various communes, provinces, or nations, and having, therefore, a membership either locally concentrated or more or less widely dispersed; either regularly or most irregularly distributed. The culture group of the other type, or kind, is a self-sufficing community. It may be a village, a colony, a state, or a nation. Its membership is concentrated, its habitat is defined.

To a very great extent, as everybody knows, American colonization proceeded through the formation of religious communities. Such were the Pilgrim and the Puritan commonwealths. Such were the Quaker groups of Rhode Island and Pennsylvania. Such were the localized societies of the Dunkards, the Moravians, and the Mennonites.

As late as the middle of the nineteenth century the American people witnessed the birth and growth of one of the most remarkable religious communities known in history. The Mormon community of Utah, which, originating in 1830 as a band of relatives and acquaintances, clustered by an idea that quickly became a dogma, had become in fifty years a commonwealth de facto, defying the authority de jure of the United States.

We are not likely, however, again to witness a phenomenon of this kind in the civilized world. Recently we have seen the rise and the astonishingly rapid spread of another American religion, namely, the Christian Science faith. But it has created no community group. It has created only a dispersed sect. It is obvious to any intelligent observer, however untrained in sociological discrimination he may be, that the forces of Protestantism, still dividing and differentiating as they are, no longer to any great extent create new self-sufficing communities. They create only associations of irregular geographical dispersion, of more or less unstable or shifting membership. In a word, the conflicting-idea forces, which in our colonial days tended to create community groups as well as sects, tend now to create sectarian bodies only—mere denominational or partisan associations.

A similar contrast between an earlier and a later stage of culture group-making may be observed if we go back to centuries before the Protestant Reformation, there to survey a wider field and a longer series of historical periods.

It is a commonplace of historical knowledge that in all of the earliest civilizations there was an approximate identification of religion with ethnic consciousness and of political consciousness with both religious and race feeling. Each people had its own tribal or national gods, who were inventoried as national assets at valuations quite as high as those attached to tribal or national territory.

When, however, Roman imperial rule had been extended over the civilized world, the culture conflicts that then arose expended their group-creating force in simply bringing together like believers in sectarian association. Christianity, appealing to all bloods, in some measure to all economic classes, and spreading into all sections of the eastern Mediterranean region, did not to any great extent create communities. And what was true of Christianity was in like manner true of the Mithras cult, widely diffused in the second Christian century. Even Mohammedanism, a faith seemingly well calculated to create autonomous states, in contact with a world prepared by Roman organization could not completely identify itself with definite political boundaries.

The proximate causes of these contrasts are not obscure. We must suppose that a self-sufficing community might at one time, as well as at another, be drawn together by formative beliefs. But that it may take root somewhere and, by protecting itself against destructive external influences, succeed for a relatively long time in maintaining its integrity and its solidarity, it must enjoy a relative isolation. In a literal sense it must be beyond easy reach of those antagonistic forces which constitute for it the outer world of unbelief and darkness.

Such isolation is easily and often possible, however, only in the early stages of political integration. It is always difficult and unusual in those advanced stages wherein nations are combined in world-empires. It is becoming well-nigh impossible, now that all the continents have been brought under the sovereignty of the so-called civilized peoples, while these peoples themselves, freely communicating and intermingling, maintain with one another that good understanding which constitutes them, in a certain broad sense of the term, a world-society. The proximate effects also of the contrast that has been sketched are generally recognized.

So long as blood sympathy, religious faith, and political consciousness are approximately coterminous, the groups that they form, whether local communities or nations, must necessarily be rather sharply delimited. They must be characterized also by internal solidarity. Their membership is stable because to break the bond of blood is not only to make one’s self an outcast but is also to be unfaithful to the ancestral gods; to change one’s religion is not only to be impious but is also to commit treason; to expatriate one’s self is not only to commit treason but is also to blaspheme against high heaven.

But when associations of believers or of persons holding in common any philosophy or doctrine whatsoever are no longer self-sufficing communities, and when nations composite in blood have become compound in structure, all social groups, clusters, or organizations, not only the cultural ones drawn together by formative ideas, but also the economic and the political ones, become in some degree plastic. Their membership then becomes to some extent shifting and renewable. Under these circumstances any given association of men, let it be a village, a religious group, a trade union, a corporation, or a political party, not only takes into itself new members from time to time; it also permits old members to depart. Men come and men go, yet the association or the group itself persists. As group or as organization it remains unimpaired.

The economic advantage secured by this plasticity and renewableness is beyond calculation enormous. It permits and facilitates the drafting of men at any moment from points where they are least needed, for concentration upon points where they are needed most. The spiritual or idealistic advantage is not less great. The concentration of attention and of enthusiasm upon strategic points gives ever-increasing impetus to progressive movements.

Let us turn now from these merely proximate causes and effects of group formation to take note of certain developmental processes which lie farther back in the evolutionary sequence and which also have significance for our inquiry, since, when we understand them, they may aid us in our attempt to answer the question, What kind of group-making is likely to be accomplished by cultural conflicts from this time forth?

The most readily perceived, because the most pictorial, of the conflicts arising between one belief and another are those that are waged between beliefs that have been localized and then through geographical expansion have come into competition throughout wide frontier areas. Of all such conflicts, that upon which the world has now fully entered between occidental and oriental ideas is not merely the most extensive; it is also by far the most interesting and picturesque.

Less picturesque but often more dramatic are the conflicts that arise within each geographical region, within each nation, between old beliefs and new—the conflicts of sequent, in distinction from coexistent, ideas; the conflicts in time, in distinction from the conflicts in space. A new knowledge is attained which compels us to question old dogmas. A new faith arises which would displace the ancient traditions. As the new waxes strong in some region favorable to it, it begins there, within local limits, to supersede the old. Only then, when the conflict between the old as old and the new as new is practically over, does the triumphant new begin to go forth spatially as a conquering influence from the home of its youth into regions outlying and remote.

Whatever the form, however, that the culture conflict assumes, whether serial and dramatic or geographical and picturesque, its antecedent psychological conditions are in certain great essentials the same. Men array themselves in hostile camps on questions of theory and belief, not merely because they are variously and conflictingly informed, but far more because they are mentally unlike, their minds having been prepared by structural differentiation to seize upon different views and to cherish opposing convictions. That is to say, some minds have become rational, critical, plastic, open, outlooking, above all, intuitive of objective facts and relations. Others in their fundamental constitution have remained dogmatic, intuitive only of personal attitudes or of subjective moods, temperamentally conservative and instinctive. Minds of the one kind welcome the new and wider knowledge; they go forth to embrace it. Minds of the other kind resist it.

In the segregation thus arising, there is usually discoverable a certain tendency toward grouping by sex.

Whether the mental and moral traits of women are inherent and therefore permanent, or whether they are but passing effects of circumscribed experience and therefore possibly destined to be modified, is immaterial for my present purpose. It is not certain that either the biologist or the psychologist is prepared to answer the question. It is certain that the sociologist is not. It is enough for the analysis that I am making now if we can say that, as a merely descriptive fact, women thus far in the history of the race have generally been more instinctive, more intuitive of subjective states, more emotional, more conservative than men; and that men, more generally than women, have been intuitive of objective relations, inclined therefore to break with instinct and to rely on the later-developed reasoning processes of the brain, and willing, consequently, to take chances, to experiment, and to innovate.

If so much be granted, we may perhaps say that it is because of these mental differences that in conflicts between new and old ideas, between new knowledge and old traditions, it usually happens that a large majority of all women are found in the camp of the old, and that the camp of the new is composed mainly of men.

In the camp of the new, however, are always to be found women of alert intelligence, who happen also to be temperamentally radical; women in whom the reasoning habit has asserted sway over instinct, and in whom intuition has become the true scientific power to discern objective relations. And in the camp of the old, together with a majority of all women, are to be found most of the men of conservative instinct, and most of those also whose intuitive and reasoning powers are unequal to the effort of thinking about the world or anything in it in terms of impersonal causation. Associated with all of these elements, both male and female, may usually be discovered, finally, a contingent of priestly personalities; not necessarily religious priests, but men who love to assert spiritual dominion, to wield authority, to be reverenced and obeyed, and who naturally look for a following among the non-skeptical and easily impressed.

Such, very broadly and rudely sketched, is the psychological background of culture conflict. It is, however, a background only, a certain persistent grouping of forces and conditions; it is not the cause from which culture conflicts proceed.

D. RACIAL CONFLICTS

1. Social Contacts and Race Conflict[215]

There is a conviction, widespread in America at the present time, that among the most fruitful sources of international wars are racial prejudice and national egotism. This conviction is the nerve of much present-day pacifism. It has been the inspiration of such unofficial diplomacy, for example, as that of the Federal Council of the Churches of Christ in its effort to bring about a better understanding between the Japanese and America. This book, The Japanese Invasion, by Jesse F. Steiner, is an attempt to study this phenomenon of race prejudice and national egotism, so far as it reveals itself in the relations of the Japanese and the Americans in this country, and to estimate the rôle it is likely to play in the future relations of the two countries.

So far as I know, an investigation of precisely this nature has not hitherto been made. One reason for this is, perhaps, that not until very recent times did the problem present itself in precisely this form. So long as the nations lived in practical isolation, carrying on their intercourse through the medium of professional diplomats, and knowing each other mainly through the products they exchanged, census reports, and the discreet observations of polite travelers, racial prejudice did not disturb international relations. With the extension of international commerce, the increase of immigration, and the interpenetration of peoples, the scene changes. The railway, the steamship, and the telegraph are rapidly mobilizing the peoples of the earth. The nations are coming out of their isolation, and distances which separated the different races are rapidly giving way before the extension of communication.

The same human motives which have led men to spread a network of trade-communication over the whole earth in order to bring about an exchange of commodities are now bringing about a new distribution of populations. When these populations become as mobile as the commodities of commerce, there will be practically no limits—except those artificial barriers, like the customs and immigration restrictions, maintained by individual states—to a world-wide economic and personal competition. Furthermore when the natural barriers are broken down, artificial barriers will be maintained with increasing difficulty.

Some conception of the extent of the changes which are taking place in the world under the influence of these forces may be gathered from the fact that in 1870 the cost of transporting a bushel of grain in Europe was so great as to prohibit its sale beyond a radius of two hundred miles from a primary market. By 1883 the importation of grains from the virgin soil of the western prairies in the United States had brought about an agricultural crisis in every country in western Europe.

One may illustrate, but it is scarcely possible to estimate, the economic changes which have been brought about by the enormous increase in ocean transportation. In 1840 the first Cunard liner, of 740 horse-power with a speed of 8.5 knots per hour, was launched. In 1907, when the Lusitania was built, ocean-going vessels had attained a speed of 25 knots an hour and were drawn by engines of 70,000 horse-power.

It is difficult to estimate the economic changes which have been brought about by the changes in ocean transportation represented by these figures. It is still less possible to predict the political effects of the steadily increasing mobility of the peoples of the earth. At the present time this mobility has already reached a point at which it is often easier and cheaper to transport the world’s population to the source of raw materials than to carry the world’s manufactures to the established seats of population.

With the progressive rapidity, ease, and security of transportation, and the increase in communication, there follows an increasing detachment of the population from the soil and a concurrent concentration in great cities. These cities in time become the centers of vast numbers of uprooted individuals, casual and seasonal laborers, tenement and apartment-house dwellers, sophisticated and emancipated urbanites, who are bound together neither by local attachment nor by ties of family, clan, religion, or nationality. Under such conditions it is reasonable to expect that the same economic motive which leads every trader to sell in the highest market and to buy in the lowest will steadily increase and intensify the tendency, which has already reached enormous proportions of the population in overcrowded regions with diminished resources, to seek their fortunes, either permanently or temporarily, in the new countries of undeveloped resources.

Already the extension of commerce and the increase of immigration have brought about an international and inter-racial situation that has strained the inherited political order of the United States. It is this same expansive movement of population and of commerce, together with the racial and national rivalries that have sprung from them, which first destroyed the traditional balance of power in Europe and then broke up the scheme of international control which rested on it. Whatever may have been the immediate causes of the world-war, the more remote sources of the conflict must undoubtedly be sought in the great cosmic forces which have broken down the barriers which formerly separated the races and nationalities of the world, and forced them into new intimacies and new forms of competition, rivalry, and conflict.

Since 1870 the conditions which I have attempted to sketch have steadily forced upon America and the nations of Europe the problem of assimilating their heterogeneous populations. What we call the race problem is at once an incident of this process of assimilation and an evidence of its failure.

The present volume, The Japanese Invasion: A Study in the Psychology of Inter-racial Contact, touches but does not deal with the general situation which I have briefly sketched. It is, as its title suggests, a study in “racial contacts,” and is an attempt to distinguish and trace to their sources the attitudes and the sentiments—that is to say, mutual prejudices—which have been and still are a source of mutual irritation and misunderstanding between the Japanese and American peoples.

Fundamentally, prejudice against the Japanese in the United States is merely the prejudice which attaches to every alien and immigrant people. The immigrant from Europe, like the immigrant from Asia, comes to this country because he finds here a freedom of individual action and an economic opportunity which he did not find at home. It is an instance of the general tendency of populations to move from an area of relatively closed, to one of relatively open, resources. The movement is as inevitable and, in the long run, as resistless as that which draws water from its mountain sources to the sea. It is one way of redressing the economic balance and bringing about an economic equilibrium.

The very circumstances under which this modern movement of population has arisen implies then that the standard of living, if not the cultural level, of the immigrant is lower than that of the native population. The consequence is that immigration brings with it a new and disturbing form of competition, the competition, namely, of peoples of a lower and of a higher standard of living. The effect of this competition, where it is free and unrestricted, is either to lower the living standards of the native population; to expel them from the vocations in which the immigrants are able or permitted to compete; or what may, perhaps, be regarded as a more sinister consequence, to induce such a restriction of the birth rate of the native population as to insure its ultimate extinction. The latter is, in fact, what seems to be happening in the New England manufacturing towns where the birth rate in the native population for some years past has fallen below the death rate, so that the native stock has long since ceased to reproduce itself. The foreign peoples, on the other hand, are rapidly replacing the native stocks, not merely by the influence of new immigration, but because of a relatively high excess of births over deaths.

It has been assumed that the prejudice which blinds the people of one race to the virtues of another and leads them to exaggerate that other’s faults is in the nature of a misunderstanding which further knowledge will dispel. This is so far from true that it would be more exact to say that our racial misunderstandings are merely the expression of our racial antipathies. Behind these antipathies are deep-seated, vital, and instinctive impulses. Racial antipathies represent the collision of invisible forces, the clash of interests, dimly felt but not yet clearly perceived. They are present in every situation where the fundamental interests of races and peoples are not yet regulated by some law, custom, or any other modus vivendi which commands the assent and the mutual support of both parties. We hate people because we fear them, because our interests, as we understand them at any rate, run counter to theirs. On the other hand, good will is founded in the long run upon co-operation. The extension of our so-called altruistic sentiments is made possible only by the organization of our otherwise conflicting interests and by the extension of the machinery of co-operation and social control.

Race prejudice may be regarded as a spontaneous, more or less instinctive, defense-reaction, the practical effect of which is to restrict free competition between races. Its importance as a social function is due to the fact that free competition, particularly between people with different standards of living, seems to be, if not the original source, at least the stimulus to which race prejudice is the response.

From this point of view we may regard caste, or even slavery, as one of those accommodations through which the race problem found a natural solution. Caste, by relegating the subject race to an inferior status, gives to each race at any rate a monopoly of its own tasks. When this status is accepted by the subject people, as is the case where the caste or slavery systems become fully established, racial competition ceases and racial animosity tends to disappear. That is the explanation of the intimate and friendly relations which so often existed in slavery between master and servant. It is for this reason that we hear it said today that the Negro is all right in his place. In his place he is a convenience and not a competitor. Each race being in its place, no obstacle to racial co-operation exists.

The fact that race prejudice is due to, or is in some sense dependent upon, race competition is further manifest by a fact that Mr. Steiner has emphasized, namely, that prejudice against the Japanese is nowhere uniform throughout the United States. It is only where the Japanese are present in sufficient numbers to actually disturb the economic status of the white population that prejudice has manifested itself to such a degree as to demand serious consideration. It is an interesting fact also that prejudice against the Japanese is now more intense than it is against any other oriental people. The reason for this, as Mr. Steiner has pointed out, is that the Japanese are more aggressive, more disposed to test the sincerity of that statement of the Declaration of Independence which declares that all men are equally entitled to “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness”—a statement, by the way, which was merely a forensic assertion of the laissez faire doctrine of free and unrestricted competition as applied to the relations of individual men.

The Japanese, the Chinese, they too would be all right in their place, no doubt. That place, if they find it, will be one in which they do not greatly intensify and so embitter the struggle for existence of the white man. The difficulty is that the Japanese is still less disposed than the Negro or the Chinese to submit to the regulations of a caste system and to stay in his place. The Japanese are an organized and morally efficient nation. They have the national pride and the national egotism which rests on the consciousness of this efficiency. In fact, it is not too much to say that national egotism, if one pleases to call it such, is essential to national efficiency, just as a certain irascibility of temper seems to be essential to a good fighter.

Another difficulty is that caste and the limitation of free competition is economically unsound, even though it be politically desirable. A national policy of national efficiency demands that every individual have not merely the opportunity but the preparation necessary to perform that particular service for the community for which his natural disposition and aptitude fit him, irrespective of race or “previous condition.”

Finally, caste and the limitation of economic opportunity is contrary, if not to our traditions, at least to our political principles. That means that there will always be an active minority opposed to any settlement based on the caste system as applied to either the black or the brown races, on grounds of political sentiment. This minority will be small in parts of the country immediately adversely affected by the competition of the invading race. It will be larger in regions which are not greatly affected. It will be increased if immigration is so rapid as to make the competition more acute. We must look to other measures for the solution of the Japanese problem, if it should prove true, as seems probable, that we are not able or, for various reasons, do not care permanently to hold back the rising tide of the oriental invasion.

I have said that fundamentally and in principle prejudice against the Japanese in America today was identical with the prejudice which attaches to any immigrant people. There is, as Mr. Steiner has pointed out, a difference. This is due to the existence in the human mind of a mechanism by which we inevitably and automatically classify every individual human being we meet. When a race bears an external mark by which every individual member of it can infallibly be identified, that race is by that fact set apart and segregated. Japanese, Chinese, and Negroes cannot move among us with the same freedom as the members of other races because they bear marks which identify them as members of their race. This fact isolates them. In the end the effect of this isolation, both in its effects upon the Japanese themselves and upon the human environment in which they live, is profound. Isolation is at once a cause and an effect of race prejudice. It is a vicious circle—isolation, prejudice; prejudice, isolation. Were there no other reasons which urge us to consider the case of the Japanese and the oriental peoples in a category different from that of the European immigrant, this fact, that they are bound to live in the American community a more or less isolated life, would impel us to do so.

In conclusion, I may perhaps say in a word what seems to me the practical bearing of Mr. Steiner’s book. Race prejudice is a mechanism of the group mind which acts reflexly and automatically in response to its proper stimulus. That stimulus seems to be, in the cases where I have met it, unrestricted competition of peoples with different standards of living. Racial animosities and the so-called racial misunderstandings that grow out of them cannot be explained or argued away. They can only be affected when there has been a readjustment of relations and an organization of interests in such a way as to bring about a larger measure of co-operation and a lesser amount of friction and conflict. This demands something more than a diplomacy of kind words. It demands a national policy based on an unflinching examination of the facts.

2. Conflict and Race Consciousness[216]

The Civil War weakened but did not fully destroy the modus vivendi which slavery had established between the slave and his master. With emancipation the authority which had formerly been exercised by the master was transferred to the state, and Washington, D.C., began to assume in the mind of the freedman the position that formerly had been occupied by the “big house” on the plantation. The masses of the Negro people still maintained their habit of dependence, however, and after the first confusion of the change had passed, life went on, for most of them, much as it had before the war. As one old farmer explained, the only difference he could see was that in slavery he “was working for old Marster and now he was working for himself.”

There was one difference between slavery and freedom, nevertheless, which was very real to the freedman. And this was the liberty to move. To move from one plantation to another in case he was discontented was one of the ways in which a freedman was able to realize his freedom and to make sure that he possessed it. This liberty to move meant a good deal more to the plantation Negro than one not acquainted with the situation in the South is likely to understand.

If there had been an abundance of labor in the South; if the situation had been such that the Negro laborer was seeking the opportunity to work, or such that the Negro tenant farmers were competing for the opportunity to get a place on the land, as is so frequently the case in Europe, the situation would have been fundamentally different from what it actually was. But the South was, and is today, what Nieboer called a country of “open,” in contradistinction to a country of “closed” resources. In other words, there is more land in the South than there is labor to till it. Land owners are driven to competing for laborers and tenants to work their plantations.

Owing to his ignorance of business matters and to a long-established habit of submission, the Negro after emancipation was placed at a great disadvantage in his dealings with the white man. His right to move from one plantation to another became, therefore, the Negro tenant’s method of enforcing consideration from the planter. He might not dispute the planter’s accounts, because he was not capable of doing so, and it was unprofitable to attempt it, but if he felt aggrieved he could move.

This was the significance of the exodus in some of the southern states which took place about 1879, when 40,000 people left the plantations in the Black Belts of Louisiana and Mississippi and went to Kansas. The masses of the colored people were dissatisfied with the treatment they were receiving from the planters and made up their minds to move to “a free country,” as they described it. At the same time it was the attempt of the planter to bind the Negro tenant who was in debt to him to his place on the plantation that gave rise to the system of peonage that still exists in a mitigated form in the South today.

When the Negro moved off the plantation upon which he was reared he severed the personal relations which bound him to his master’s people. It was just at this point that the two races began to lose touch with each other. From this time on the relations of the black man and white, which in slavery had been direct and personal, became every year, as the old associations were broken, more and more indirect and secondary. There lingers still the disposition on the part of the white man to treat every Negro familiarly, and the disposition on the part of every Negro to treat every white man respectfully. But these are habits which are gradually disappearing. The breaking down of the instincts and habits of servitude and the acquisition by the masses of the Negro people of the instincts and habits of freedom have proceeded slowly but steadily. The reason the change seems to have gone on more rapidly in some cases than others is explained by the fact that at the time of emancipation 10 per cent of the Negroes in the United States were already free, and others, those who had worked in trades, many of whom had hired their own time from their masters, had become more or less adapted to the competitive conditions of free society.

One of the effects of the mobilization of the Negro has been to bring him into closer and more intimate contact with his own people. Common interests have drawn the blacks together, and caste sentiment has kept the black and white apart. The segregation of the races, which began as a spontaneous movement on the part of both, has been fostered by the policy of the dominant race. The agitation of the Reconstruction period made the division between the races in politics absolute. Segregation and separation in other matters have gone on steadily ever since. The Negro at the present time has separate churches, schools, libraries, hospitals, Y.M.C.A. associations, and even separate towns. There are, perhaps, a half-dozen communities in the United States, every inhabitant of which is a Negro. Most of these so-called Negro towns are suburban villages; two of them, at any rate, are the centers of a considerable Negro farming population. In general it may be said that where the Negro schools, churches, and Y.M.C.A. associations are not separate they do not exist.

It is hard to estimate the ultimate effect of this isolation of the black man. One of the most important effects has been to establish a common interest among all the different colors and classes of the race. This sense of solidarity has grown up gradually with the organization of the Negro people. It is stronger in the South, where segregation is more complete, than it is in the North where, twenty years ago, it would have been safe to say it did not exist. Gradually, imperceptibly, within the larger world of the white man, a smaller world, the world of the black man, is silently taking form and shape.

Every advance in education and intelligence puts the Negro in possession of the technique of communication and organization of the white man, and so contributes to the extension and consolidation of the Negro world within the white.

The motive for this increasing solidarity is furnished by the increasing pressure, or perhaps I should say by the increasing sensibility of Negroes to the pressure and the prejudice without. The sentiment of racial loyalty, which is a comparatively recent manifestation of the growing self-consciousness of the race, must be regarded as a response and “accommodation” to changing internal and external relations of the race. The sentiment which Negroes are beginning to call “race pride” does not exist to the same extent in the North as in the South, but an increasing disposition to enforce racial distinctions in the North, as in the South, is bringing it into existence.

One or two incidents in this connection are significant. A few years ago a man who is the head of the largest Negro publishing business in this country sent to Germany and had a number of Negro dolls manufactured according to specifications of his own. At the time this company was started, Negro children were in the habit of playing with white dolls. There were already Negro dolls on the market, but they were for white children and represented the white man’s conception of the Negro and not the Negro’s ideal of himself. The new Negro doll was a mulatto with regular features slightly modified in favor of the conventional Negro type. It was a neat, prim, well-dressed, well-behaved, self-respecting doll. Later on, as I understand, there were other dolls, equally tidy and respectable in appearance, but in darker shades, with Negro features a little more pronounced. The man who designed these dolls was perfectly clear in regard to the significance of the substitution that he was making. He said that he thought it was a good thing to let Negro girls become accustomed to dolls of their own color. He thought it important, as long as the races were to be segregated, that the dolls, which, like other forms of art, are patterns and represent ideals, should be segregated also.

This substitution of the Negro model for the white is a very interesting and a very significant fact. It means that the Negro has begun to fashion his own ideals and in his own image rather than in that of the white man. It is also interesting to know that the Negro doll company has been a success and that these dolls are now widely sold in every part of the United States. Nothing exhibits more clearly the extent to which the Negro had become assimilated in slavery or the extent to which he has broken with the past in recent years than this episode of the Negro doll.

The incident is typical. It is an indication of the nature of tendencies and of forces that are stirring in the background of the Negro’s mind, although they have not succeeded in forcing themselves, except in special instances, into clear consciousness.

In this same category must be reckoned the poetry of Paul Lawrence Dunbar, in whom, as William Dean Howells has said, the Negro “attained civilization.” Before Paul Lawrence Dunbar, Negro literature had been either apologetic or self-assertive, but Dunbar “studied the Negro objectively.” He represented him as he found him, not only without apology, but with an affectionate understanding and sympathy which one can have only for what is one’s own. In Dunbar, Negro literature attained an ethnocentric point of view. Through the medium of his verses the ordinary shapes and forms of the Negro’s life have taken on the color of his affections and sentiments, and we see the black man, not as he looks, but as he feels and is.

It is a significant fact that a certain number of educated—or rather the so-called educated—Negroes were not at first disposed to accept at their full value either Dunbar’s dialect verse or the familiar pictures of Negro life which are the symbols in which his poetry usually found expression. The explanation sometimes offered for the dialect poems was that “they were made to please white folk.” The assumption seems to have been that if they had been written for Negroes it would have been impossible in his poetry to distinguish black people from white. This was a sentiment which was never shared by the masses of the people, who, upon the occasions when Dunbar recited to them, were fairly bowled over with amusement and delight because of the authenticity of the portraits he offered them. At the present time Dunbar is so far accepted as to have hundreds of imitators.

Literature and art have played a similar and perhaps more important rôle in the racial struggles of Europe than of America. One reason seems to be that racial conflicts, as they occur in secondary groups, are primarily sentimental and secondarily economic. Literature and art, when they are employed to give expression to racial sentiment and form to racial ideals, serve, along with other agencies, to mobilize the group and put the masses en rapport with their leaders and with each other. In such cases art and literature are like silent drummers which summon into action the latent instincts and energies of the race.

These struggles, I might add, in which a submerged people seek to rise and make for themselves a place in a world occupied by superior and privileged races, are not less vital or less important because they are bloodless. They serve to stimulate ambitions and inspire ideals which years, perhaps, of subjection and subordination have suppressed. In fact, it seems as if it were through conflicts of this kind, rather than through war, that the minor peoples were destined to gain the moral concentration and discipline that fit them to share, on anything like equal terms, in the conscious life of the civilized world.

Until the beginning of the last century the European peasant, like the Negro slave, bound as he was to the soil, lived in the little world of direct and personal relations, under what we may call a domestic régime. It was military necessity that first turned the attention of statesmen like Frederick the Great of Prussia to the welfare of the peasant. It was the overthrow of Prussia by Napoleon in 1807 that brought about his final emancipation in that country. In recent years it has been the international struggle for economic efficiency which has contributed most to mobilize the peasant and laboring classes in Europe.

As the peasant slowly emerged from serfdom he found himself a member of a depressed class, without education, political privileges, or capital. It was the struggle of this class for wider opportunity and better conditions of life that made most of the history of the previous century. Among the peoples in the racial borderland the effect of this struggle has been, on the whole, to substitute for a horizontal organization of society—in which the upper strata, that is to say, the wealthy or privileged class, was mainly of one race and the poorer and subject class was mainly of another—a vertical organization in which all classes of each racial group were united under the title of their respective nationalities. Thus organized, the nationalities represent, on the one hand, intractable minorities engaged in a ruthless partisan struggle for political privilege or economic advantage and, on the other, they represent cultural groups, each struggling to maintain a sentiment of loyalty to the distinctive traditions, language, and institutions of the race they represent.

This sketch of the racial situation in Europe is, of course, the barest abstraction and should not be accepted realistically. It is intended merely as an indication of similarities, in the broader outlines, of the motives that have produced nationalities in Europe and are making the Negro in America, as Booker Washington says, “a nation within a nation.”

It may be said that there is one profound difference between the Negro and the European nationalities, namely, that the Negro has had his separateness and consequent race consciousness thrust upon him because of his exclusion and forcible isolation from white society. The Slavic nationalities, on the contrary, have segregated themselves in order to escape assimilation and escape racial extinction in the larger cosmopolitan states.

The difference is, however, not so great as it seems. With the exception of the Poles, nationalistic sentiment may be said hardly to have existed fifty years ago. Forty years ago when German was the language of the educated classes, educated Bohemians were a little ashamed to speak their own language in public. Now nationalist sentiment is so strong that, where the Czech nationality has gained control, it has sought to wipe out every vestige of the German language. It has changed the names of streets, buildings, and public places. In the city of Prag, for example, all that formerly held German associations now fairly reeks with the sentiment of Bohemian nationality.

On the other hand, the masses of the Polish people cherished very little nationalist sentiment until after the Franco-Prussian War. The fact is that nationalist sentiment among the Slavs, like racial sentiment among the Negroes, has sprung up as the result of a struggle against privilege and discrimination based upon racial distinctions. The movement is not so far advanced among Negroes; sentiment is not so intense, and for several reasons probably never will be.

From what has been said it seems fair to draw one conclusion, namely: under conditions of secondary contact, that is to say, conditions of individual liberty and individual competition, characteristic of modern civilization, depressed racial groups tend to assume the form of nationalities. A nationality, in this narrower sense, may be defined as the racial group which has attained self-consciousness, no matter whether it has at the same time gained political independence or not.

In societies organized along horizontal lines the disposition of individuals in the lower strata is to seek their models in the strata above them. Loyalty attaches to individuals, particularly to the upper classes, who furnish, in their persons and in their lives, the models for the masses of the people below them. Long after the nobility has lost every other social function connected with its vocation the ideals of the nobility have survived in our conception of the gentleman, genteel manners and bearing—gentility.

The sentiment of the Negro slave was, in a certain sense, not merely loyalty to his master but to the white race. Negroes of the older generations speak very frequently, with a sense of proprietorship, of “our white folks.” This sentiment was not always confined to the ignorant masses. An educated colored man once explained to me “that we colored people always want our white folks to be superior.” He was shocked when I showed no particular enthusiasm for that form of sentiment.

The fundamental significance of the nationalist movement must be sought in the effort of subject races, sometimes consciously, sometimes unconsciously, to substitute, for those supplied them by aliens, models based on their own racial individuality and embodying sentiments and ideals which spring naturally out of their own lives.

After a race has achieved in this way its moral independence, assimilation, in the sense of copying, will still continue. Nations and races borrow from those whom they fear as well as from those whom they admire. Materials taken over in this way, however, are inevitably stamped with the individuality of the nationalities that appropriate them. These materials will contribute to the dignity, to the prestige, and to the solidarity of the nationality which borrows them, but they will no longer inspire loyalty to the race from which they are borrowed. A race which has attained the character of a nationality may still retain its loyalty to the state of which it is a part, but only in so far as that state incorporates, as an integral part of its organization, the practical interests, the aspirations and ideals of that nationality.

The aim of the contending nationalities in Austria-Hungary at the present time seems to be a federation, like that of Switzerland, based upon the autonomy of the different races composing the empire. In the South, similarly, the races seem to be tending in the direction of a bi-racial organization of society, in which the Negro is gradually gaining a limited autonomy. What the ultimate outcome of this movement may be it is not safe to predict.

3. Conflict and Accommodation[217]

In the first place, what is race friction? To answer this elementary question it is necessary to define the abstract mental quality upon which race friction finally rests. This is racial “antipathy,” popularly spoken of as “race prejudice.” Whereas prejudice means mere predilection, either for or against, antipathy means “natural contrariety,” “incompatibility,” or “repugnance of qualities.” To quote the Century Dictionary, antipathy “expresses most of constitutional feeling and least of volition”; “it is a dislike that seems constitutional toward persons, things, conduct, etc.; hence it involves a dislike for which sometimes no good reason can be given.” I would define racial antipathy, then, as a natural contrariety, repugnancy of qualities, or incompatibility between individuals or groups which are sufficiently differentiated to constitute what, for want of a more exact term, we call races. What is most important is that it involves an instinctive feeling of dislike, distaste, or repugnance, for which sometimes no good reason can be given. Friction is defined primarily as a “lack of harmony,” or a “mutual irritation.” In the case of races it is accentuated by antipathy. We do not have to depend on race riots or other acts of violence as a measure of the growth of race friction. Its existence may be manifested by a look or a gesture as well as by a word or an act.

A verbal cause of much useless and unnecessary controversy is found in the use of the word “race.” When we speak of “race problems” or “racial antipathies,” what do we mean by “race”? Clearly nothing scientifically definite, since ethnologists themselves are not agreed upon any classification of the human family along racial lines. Nor would this so-called race prejudice have the slightest regard for such classification, if one were agreed upon. It is something which is not bounded by the confines of a philological or ethnological definition. The British scientist may tell the British soldier in India that the native is in reality his brother, and that it is wholly absurd and illogical and unscientific for such a thing as “race prejudice” to exist between them. Tommy Atkins simply replies with a shrug that to him and his messmates the native is a “nigger”; and in so far as their attitude is concerned, that is the end of the matter. The same suggestion, regardless of the scientific accuracy of the parallel, if made to the American soldier in the Philippines, meets with the same reply. We have wasted an infinite amount of time in interminable controversies over the relative superiority and inferiority of different races. Such discussions have a certain value when conducted by scientific men in a purely scientific spirit. But for the purpose of explaining or establishing any fixed principle of race relations they are little better than worthless. The Japanese is doubtless quite well satisfied of the superiority of his people over the mushroom growths of western civilization, and finds no difficulty in borrowing from the latter whatever is worth reproducing, and improving on it in adapting it to his own racial needs. The Chinese do not waste their time in idle chatter over the relative status of their race as compared with the white barbarians who have intruded themselves upon them with their grotesque customs, their heathenish ideas, and their childishly new religion. The Hindu regards with veiled contempt the racial pretensions of his conqueror, and, while biding the time when the darker races of the earth shall once more come into their own, does not bother himself with such an idle question as whether his temporary overlord is his racial equal. Only the white man writes volumes to establish on paper the fact of a superiority which is either self-evident and not in need of demonstration, on the one hand, or is not a fact and is not demonstrable, on the other. The really important matter is one about which there need be little dispute—the fact of racial differences. It is the practical question of differences—the fundamental differences of physical appearance, of mental habit and thought, of social customs and religious beliefs, of the thousand and one things keenly and clearly appreciable, yet sometimes elusive and undefinable—these are the things which at once create and find expression in what we call race problems and race prejudices, for want of better terms. In just so far as these differences are fixed and permanently associated characteristics of two groups of people will the antipathies and problems between the two be permanent.

Probably the closest approach we shall ever make to a satisfactory classification of races as a basis of antipathy will be that of grouping men according to color, along certain broad lines, the color being accompanied by various and often widely different, but always fairly persistent, differentiating physical and mental characteristics. This would give us substantially the white—not Caucasian, the yellow—not Chinese or Japanese, and the dark—not Negro, races. The antipathies between these general groups and between certain of their subdivisions will be found to be essentially fundamental, but they will also be found to present almost endless differences of degrees of actual and potential acuteness. Here elementary psychology also plays its part. One of the subdivisions of the Negro race is composed of persons of mixed blood. In many instances these are more white than black, yet the association of ideas has through several generations identified them with the Negro—and in this country friction between this class and white people is on some lines even greater than between whites and blacks.

Race conflicts are merely the more pronounced concrete expressions of such friction. They are the visible phenomena of the abstract quality of racial antipathy—the tangible evidence of the existence of racial problems. The form of such expressions of antipathy varies with the nature of the racial contact in each instance. Their different and widely varying aspects are the confusing and often contradictory phenomena of race relations. They are dependent upon diverse conditions, and are no more susceptible of rigid and permanent classification than are the whims and moods of human nature. It is more than a truism to say that a condition precedent to race friction or race conflict is contact between sufficient numbers of two diverse racial groups. There is a definite and positive difference between contact between individuals and contact between masses. The association between two isolated individual members of two races may be wholly different from contact between masses of the same race groups. The factor of numbers embraces, indeed, the very crux of the problems arising from contact between different races.

A primary cause of race friction is the vague, rather intangible, but wholly real, feeling of “pressure” which comes to the white man almost instinctively in the presence of a mass of people of a different race. In a certain important sense all racial problems are distinctly problems of racial distribution. Certainly the definite action of the controlling race, particularly as expressed in laws, is determined by the factor of the numerical difference between its population and that of the inferior group. This fact stands out prominently in the history of our colonial legislation for the control of Negro slaves. These laws increased in severity up to a certain point as the slave population increased in numbers. The same condition is disclosed in the history of the ante-bellum legislation of the southern, eastern, New England, and middle western states for the control of the free Negro population. So today no state in the Union would have separate car laws where the Negro constituted only 10 or 15 per cent of its total population. No state would burden itself with the maintenance of two separate school systems with a negro element of less than 10 per cent. Means of local separation might be found, but there would be no expression of law on the subject.

Just as a heavy increase of Negro population makes for an increase of friction, direct legislation, the protection of drastic social customs, and a general feeling of unrest or uneasiness on the part of the white population, so a decrease of such population, or a relatively small increase as compared with the whites, makes for less friction, greater racial tolerance, and a lessening of the feeling of necessity for severely discriminating laws or customs. And this quite aside from the fact of a difference of increase or decrease of actual points of contact, varying with differences of numbers. The statement will scarcely be questioned that the general attitude of the white race, as a whole, toward the Negro would become much less uncompromising if we were to discover that through two census periods the race had shown a positive decrease in numbers. Racial antipathy would not decrease, but the conditions which provoke its outward expression would undergo a change for the better. There is a direct relation between the mollified attitude of the people of the Pacific coast toward the Chinese population and the fact that the Chinese population decreased between 1890 and 1900. There would in time be a difference of feeling toward the Japanese now there if the immigration of more were prohibited by treaty stipulation. There is the same immediate relation between the tolerant attitude of whites toward the natives in the Hawaiian Islands and the feeling that the native is a decadent and dying race. Aside from the influence of the Indian’s warlike qualities and of his refusal to submit to slavery, the attitude and disposition of the white race toward him have been influenced by considerations similar to those which today operate in Hawaii. And the same influence has been a factor in determining the attitude of the English toward the slowly dying Maoris of New Zealand.

At no time in the history of the English-speaking people and at no place of which we have any record where large numbers of them have been brought into contact with an approximately equal number of Negroes have the former granted to the latter absolute equality, either political, social, or economic. With the exception of five New England states, with a total Negro population of only 16,084 in 1860, every state in the Union discriminated against the Negro politically before the Civil War. The white people continued to do so—North as well as South—as long as they retained control of the suffrage regulations of their states. The determination to do so renders one whole section of the country practically a political unit to this day. In South Africa we see the same determination of the white man to rule, regardless of the numerical superiority of the black. The same determination made Jamaica surrender the right of self-government and renders her satisfied with a hybrid political arrangement today. The presence of practically 100,000 Negroes in the District of Columbia makes 200,000 white people content to live under an anomaly in a self-governing country. The proposition is too elementary for discussion that the white man when confronted with a sufficient number of Negroes to create in his mind a sense of political unrest or danger either alters his form of government in order to be rid of the incubus or destroys the political strength of the Negro by force, by evasion, or by direct action.

In the main, the millions in the South live at peace with their white neighbors. The masses, just one generation out of slavery and thousands of them still largely controlled by its influences, accept the superiority of the white race as a race, whatever may be their private opinion of some of its members. And, furthermore, they accept this relation of superior and inferior as a mere matter of course—as part of their lives—as something neither to be questioned, wondered at, or worried over. Despite apparent impressions to the contrary, the average southern white man gives no more thought to the matter than does the Negro. As I tried to make clear at the outset, the status of superior and inferior is simply an inherited part of his instinctive mental equipment—a concept which he does not have to reason out. The respective attitudes are complementary, and under the mutual acceptance and understanding there still exist unnumbered thousands of instances of kindly and affectionate relations—relations of which the outside world knows nothing and understands nothing. In the mass, the southern Negro has not bothered himself about the ballot for more than twenty years, not since his so-called political leaders let him alone; he is not disturbed over the matter of separate schools and cars, and he neither knows nor cares anything about “social equality.”

But what of the other class? The “masses” is at best an unsatisfactory and indefinite term. It is very far from embracing even the southern Negro, and we need not forget that seven years ago there were 900,000 members of the race living outside of the South. What of the class, mainly urban and large in number, who have lost the typical habit and attitude of the Negro of the mass, and who, more and more, are becoming restless and chafing under existing conditions? There is an intimate and very natural relation between the social and intellectual advance of the so-called Negro and the matter of friction along social lines. It is, in fact, only as we touch the higher groups that we can appreciate the potential results of contact upon a different plane from that common to the masses in the South. There is a large and steadily increasing group of men, more or less related to the Negro by blood and wholly identified with him by American social usage, who refuse to accept quietly the white man’s attitude toward the race. I appreciate the mistake of laying too great stress upon the utterances of any one man or group of men, but the mistakes in this case lie the other way. The American white man knows little or nothing about the thought and opinion of the colored men and women who today largely mold and direct Negro public opinion in this country. Even the white man who considers himself a student of “the race question” rarely exhibits anything more than profound ignorance of the Negro’s side of the problem. He does not know what the other man is thinking and saying on the subject. This composite type which we poetically call “black,” but which in reality is every shade from black to white, is slowly developing a consciousness of its own racial solidarity. It is finding its own distinctive voice, and through its own books and papers and magazines, and through its own social organizations, is at once giving utterance to its discontent and making known its demands.

And with this dawning consciousness of race there is likewise coming an appreciation of the limitations and restrictions which hem in its unfolding and development. One of the best indices to the possibilities of increased racial friction is the Negro’s own recognition of the universality of the white man’s racial antipathy toward him. This is the one clear note above the storm of protest against the things that are, that in his highest aspirations everywhere the white man’s “prejudice” blocks the colored man’s path. And the white man may with possible profit pause long enough to ask the deeper significance of the Negro’s finding of himself. May it not be only part of a general awakening of the darker races of the earth? Captain H. A. Wilson, of the English army, says that through all Africa there has penetrated in some way a vague confused report that far off somewhere, in the unknown, outside world, a great war has been fought between a white and a yellow race, and won by the yellow man. And even before the Japanese-Russian conflict, “Ethiopianism” and the cry of “Africa for the Africans” had begun to disturb the English in South Africa. It is said time and again that the dissatisfaction and unrest in India are accentuated by the results of this same war. There can be no doubt in the mind of any man who carefully reads American Negro journals that their rejoicing over the Japanese victory sounded a very different note from that of the white American. It was far from being a mere expression of sympathy with a people fighting for national existence against a power which had made itself odious to the civilized world by its treatment of its subjects. It was, instead, a quite clear cry of exultation over the defeat of a white race by a dark one. The white man is no wiser than the ostrich if he refuses to see the truth that in the possibilities of race friction the Negro’s increasing consciousness of race is to play a part scarcely less important than the white man’s racial antipathies, prejudices, or whatever we may elect to call them.

III. INVESTIGATIONS AND PROBLEMS

1. The Psychology and Sociology of Conflict, Conscious Competition, and Rivalry

Consciousness has been described as an effect of conflict—conflict of motor tendencies in the individual, conflict of sentiments, attitudes, and cultures in the group. The individual, activated in a given situation by opposing tendencies, is compelled to redefine his attitude. Consciousness is an incident of this readjustment.

Frequently adjustment involves a suppression of one tendency in the interest of another, of one wish in favor of another. Where these suppressions are permanent, they frequently result in disorders of conduct and disorganization of the personality. The suppressed wish, when suppression results in disturbances of the conscious life, has been called by psychoanalysts a complex. Freud and his colleagues have isolated and described certain of these complexes. Most familiar of these are the Oedipus complex, which is explained as an effect of the unconscious conflict of father and son for the love of the mother; and the Electra complex, which similarly has as its source the unconscious struggle of mother and daughter for the affection of the father. Adler, in his description of the “inferiority” complex, explains it as an effect of the conflict growing out of the contrast between the ideal and the actual status of the person. Other mental conflicts described by the psychoanalysts are referred to the “adopted child” complex, the Narcissus complex, the sex shock, etc. These conflicts which disturb the mental life of the person are all the reflections of social relations and are to be explained in terms of status and the rôle of the individual in the group.

Emulation and rivalry represent conflict at higher social levels, where competition has been translated into forms that inure to the survival and success of the group. Research in this field, fragmentary as it is, confirms the current impression of the stimulation of effort in the person through conscious competition with his fellows. Adler’s theory of “psychic compensation” is based on the observation that handicapped individuals frequently excel in the very fields in which they are apparently least qualified to compete. Demosthenes, for example, became a great orator in spite of the fact that he stuttered. Ordahl presents the only comprehensive survey of the literature in this field.

Simmel has made the outstanding contribution to the sociological conception of conflict. Just as the attitudes of the individual person represent an organization of antagonistic elements, society, as he interprets it, is a unity of which the elements are conflicting tendencies. Society, he insists, would be quite other than it is, were it not for the aversions, antagonisms, differences, as well as the sympathies, affections, and similarities between individuals and groups of individuals. The unity of society includes these opposing forces, and, as a matter of fact, society is organized upon the basis of conflict.

Conflict is an organizing principle in society. Just as the individual, under the influences of contact and conflict with other individuals, acquires a status and develops a personality, so groups of individuals, in conflict with other groups, achieve unity, organization, group consciousness, and assume the forms characteristic of conflict groups—that is to say, they become parties, sects, and nationalities, etc.

2. Types of Conflict

Simmel, in his study of conflict, distinguished four types—namely, war, feud and faction, litigation, and discussion, i.e., the impersonal struggles of parties and causes. This classification, while discriminating, is certainly not complete. There are, for example, the varied forms of sport, in which conflict assumes the form of rivalry. These are nevertheless organized on a conflict pattern. Particularly interesting in this connection are games of chance, gambling and gambling devices which appeal to human traits so fundamental that no people is without example of them in its folkways.

Gambling is, according to Groos, “a fighting play,” and the universal human interest in this sport is due to the fact that “no other form of play displays in so many-sided a fashion the combativeness of human nature.”[218]

The history of the duel, either in the form of the judicial combat, the wager of battle of the Middle Ages, or as a form of private vengeance, offers interesting material for psychological or sociological investigation. The transition from private vengeance to public prosecution, of which the passing of the duel is an example, has not been completed. In fact, new forms are in some cases gradually gaining social sanction. We still have our “unwritten laws” for certain offenses. It is proverbially difficult to secure the conviction, in certain parts of the country, Chicago, for example, of a woman who kills her husband or her lover. The practice of lynching Negroes in the southern states, for offenses against women, and for any other form of conduct that is construed as a challenge to the dominant race, is an illustration from a somewhat different field, not merely of the persistence, but the gradual development of the so-called unwritten law. The circumstances under which these and all other unwritten laws arise, in which custom controls in contravention of the formal written code, have not been investigated from the point of view of sociology and in their human-nature aspects.

Several studies of games and gambling, in some respects the most unique objectivations of human interest, have been made from the point of view of the fundamental human traits involved, notably Thomas’ article on The Gaming Instinct, Groos’s chapter on “Fighting Play,” in his Play of Man, and G. T. W. Patrick’s Psychology of Relaxation, in which the theory of catharsis, familiar since Aristotle, is employed to explain play, laughter, profanity, the drink habit, and war.

Original materials exist in abundance for the study of feud, litigation, and war. No attempt seems to have been made to study feud and litigation comparatively, as Westermarck has studied marriage institutions. Something has indeed been done in this direction with the subject of war, notably by Letourneau in France and by Frobenius in Germany. Sumner’s notable essay on War is likewise an important contribution to the subject. The literature upon war, however, is so voluminous and so important that it will be discussed later, separately, and in greater detail.

Quite as interesting and important as that of war is the natural history of discussion, including under that term political and religious controversy and social agitation, already referred to as impersonal or secondary conflict.

The history of discussion, however, is the history of freedom—freedom, at any rate, of thought and of speech. It is only when peace and freedom have been established that discussion is practicable or possible. A number of histories have been written in recent years describing the rise of rationalism, as it is called, and the rôle of discussion and agitation in social life. Draper’s History of the Intellectual Development of Europe and Lecky’s History of the Rise and Influence of the Spirit of Rationalism in Europe are among the earlier works in this field. Robertson’s History of Free Thought is mainly a survey of religious skepticism but contains important and suggestive references to the natural processes by which abstract thought has arisen out of the cultural contacts and conflicts among peoples, which conquest and commerce have brought into the same universe of discourse. What we seem to have in these works are materials for the study of the communal processes through which thought is formulated. Once formulated it becomes a permanent factor in the life of the group. The rôle of discussion in the communal process will be considered later in connection with the newspaper, the press agent, propaganda, and the various factors and mechanisms determining the formation of public opinion.

3. The Literature of War

The emphasis upon the struggle for existence which followed the publication of Darwin’s The Origin of Species, in 1859, seemed to many thinkers to give a biological basis for the necessity and the inevitability of war. No distinction was made by writers of this school of thought between competition and conflict. Both were supposed to be based on instinct. Nicolai’s The Biology of War is an essay with the avowed design of refuting the biological justification of war.

Psychological studies of war have explained war either as an expression of instinct or as a reversion to a primordial animal-human type of behavior. Patrick, who is representative of this latter school, interprets war as a form of relaxation. G. W. Crile has offered a mechanistic interpretation of war and peace based on studies of the chemical changes which men undergo in warfare. Crile comes to the conclusion, however, that war is an action pattern, fixed in the social heredity of the national group, and not a type of behavior determined biologically.

The human nature of war and the motives which impel the person to the great adventure and the supreme risk of war have not been subjected to sociological study. A mass of material, however, consisting of personal documents of all types, letters, common-sense observation, and diaries is now available for such study.

Much of the literature of war has been concentrated on this problem of the abolition of war. There are the idealists and the conscientious objectors who look to good will, humanitarian sentiment, and pacificism to end war by the transformation of attitudes of men and the policies of nations. On the other hand, there are the hard-headed and practical thinkers and statesmen who believe, with Hobbes, that war will not end until there is established a power strong enough to overawe a recalcitrant state. Finally, there is a third group of social thinkers who emphasize the significance of the formation of a world public opinion. This “international mind” they regard of far greater significance for the future of humanity than the problem of war or peace, of national rivalries, or of future race conflicts.

4. Race Conflict

A European school of sociologists emphasizes conflict as the fundamental social process. Gumplowicz, in his book Die Rassenkampf, formulated a theory of social contacts and conflicts upon the conception of original ethnic groups in terms of whose interaction the history of humanity might be written. Novicow and Ratzenhofer maintain similar, though not so extreme, theories of social origins and historical developments.

With the tremendous extension of communication and growth of commerce, the world is today a great community in a sense that could not have been understood a century ago. But the world, if it is now one community, is not yet one society. Commerce has created an economic interdependence, but contact and communication have not resulted in either a political or a cultural solidarity. Indeed, the first evidences of the effects of social contacts appear to be disruptive rather than unifying. In every part of the world in which the white and colored races have come into intimate contact, race problems have presented the most intractable of all social problems.

Interest in this problem manifests itself in the enormous literature on the subject. Most of all that has been written, however, is superficial. Much is merely sentimental, interesting for the attitudes it exhibits, but otherwise adding nothing to our knowledge of the facts. The best account of the American situation is undoubtedly Ray Stannard Baker’s Following the Color Line. The South African situation is interestingly and objectively described by Maurice Evans in Black and White in South East Africa. Steiner’s book, The Japanese Invasion, is, perhaps, the best account of the Japanese-American situation.

The race problem merges into the problem of the nationalities and the so-called subject races. The struggles of the minor nationalities for self-determination is a phase of racial conflict; a phase, however, in which language rather than color is the basis of division and conflict.

5. Conflict Groups

In chapter i conflict groups were divided into gangs, labor organizations, sects, parties, and nationalities.[219] Common to these groups is an organization and orientation with reference to conflict with other groups of the same kind or with a more or less hostile social environment, as in the case of religious sects.

The spontaneous organizations of boys and youths called gangs attracted public attention in American communities because of the relation of these gangs to juvenile delinquency and adolescent crime. An interesting but superficial literature upon the gang has developed in recent years, represented typically by J. Adams Puffer The Boy and his Gang. The brief but picturesque descriptions of individual gangs seem to indicate that the play group tends to pass over into the gang when it comes into conflict with other groups of like type or with the community. The fully developed gang appears to possess a restricted membership, a natural leader, a name—usually that of a leader or a locality—a body of tradition, custom and a ritual, a rendezvous, a territorial area which it holds as a sort of possession and defends against invasion by other groups. Attention was early called, as by Mr. Brewster Adams in an article The Street Gang as a Factor in Politics, to the facility with which the gang graduates into a local political organization, representing thus the sources of political power of the typical American city.

Although the conflict of economic groups is not a new nor even a modern phenomenon, no such permanent conflict groups as those represented by capital and labor existed until recent times. Veblen has made an acute observation upon this point. The American Federation of Labor, he states, “is not organized for production but for bargaining.” It is, in effect, an organization for the strategic defeat of employers and rival organizations, by recourse to enforced unemployment and obstruction; not for the production of goods and services.[220]

Research in the labor problem by the Webbs in England and by Commons, Hoxie, and others in this country has been primarily concerned with the history and with the structure and functions of trade unions. At present there is a tendency to investigate the human-nature aspects of the causes of the industrial conflict. The current phrases “instincts in industry,” “the human factor in economics,” “the psychology of the labor movement,” “industry, emotion, and unrest” indicate the change in attitude. The essential struggle is seen to lie not in the conflict of classes, intense and ruthless as it is, but more and more in the fundamental struggle between a mechanical and impersonal system, on the one hand, and the person with his wishes unsatisfied and insatiable on the other. All attempts to put the relations of capital and labor upon a moral basis have failed hitherto. The latest and most promising experiment in this direction is the so-called labor courts established by the Amalgamated Clothing Workers and their employees.

The literature upon sects and parties has been written for the most part with the purpose of justifying, to a critical and often hostile public, the sectarian and partisan aims and acts of their several organizations. In a few works such as Sighele’s Psychologie des sectes and Michels’ Political Parties an attempt has been made at objective description and analysis of the mechanisms of the behavior of the sect and of the party.

The natural history of the state from the tribe to the modern nation has been that of a political society based on conflict. Franz Oppenheimer maintains the thesis in his book The State: Its History and Development Viewed Sociologically, that conquest has been the historical basis of the state. The state is, in other words, an organization of groups that have been in conflict, i.e., classes and castes; or of groups that are in conflict, i.e., political parties.

A nationality, as distinct from a nation, as for instance the Irish nationality, is a language and cultural group which has become group conscious through its struggle for status in the larger imperial or international group. Nationalism is, in other words, a phenomenon of internationalism.

The literature upon this subject is enormous. The most interesting recent works on the general topic are Dominian’s The Frontiers of Language and Nationality in Europe, Pillsbury’s The Psychology of Nationality and Internationalism, and Oakesmith’s Race and Nationality.

SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY

I. PSYCHOLOGY AND SOCIOLOGY OF CONFLICT

A. Conflict and Social Process

(1) Simmel, Georg. “The Sociology of Conflict.” Translated from the German by Albion W. Small. American Journal of Sociology, IX (1903-4), 490-525; 672-89; 798-811.

(2) Gumplowicz, Ludwig. Der Rassenkampf. Sociologische Untersuchungen. Innsbruck, 1883.

(3) Novicow, J. Les Luttes entre sociétés humaines et leurs phases successives. Paris, 1893.

(4) Ratzenhofer, Gustav. Wesen und Zweck der Politik. Als Theil der Sociologie und Grundlage der Staatswissenschaften. 3 vols. Leipzig, 1893.

(5) ——. Die sociologische Erkenntnis. Positive Philosophie des Socialen Lebens. Leipzig, 1898.

(6) Sorel, Georges. Reflections on Violence. New York, 1914.

B. Conflict and Mental Conflict

(1) Healy, William. Mental Conflicts and Misconduct. Boston, 1917.

(2) Prince, Morton. The Unconscious. The fundamentals of personality, normal and abnormal. Chap. xv, “Instincts, Sentiments, and Conflicts,” pp. 446-87; chap, xvi, “General Phenomena Resulting from Emotional Conflicts,” pp. 488-528. New York, 1914.

(3) Adler, Alfred. The Neurotic Constitution. Outlines of a comparative individualistic psychology and psychotherapy. Translated by Bernard Glueck and John E. Lind. New York, 1917.

(4) Adler, Alfred. A Study of Organ Inferiority and Its Psychical Compensation. A contribution to clinical medicine. Translated by S. E. Jelliffe. “Nervous and Mental Disease Monograph Series,” No. 24. New York, 1917.

(5) Lay, Wilfrid. Man’s Unconscious Conflict. A popular exposition of psychoanalysis. New York, 1917.

(6) Blanchard, Phyllis. The Adolescent Girl. A study from the psychoanalytic viewpoint. Chap. iii, “The Adolescent Conflict,” pp. 87-115. New York, 1920.

(7) Weeks, Arland D. Social Antagonisms. Chicago, 1918.

C. Rivalry

(1) Baldwin, J. Mark, editor. Dictionary of Philosophy and Psychology. Article on “Rivalry.” Vol. II, pp. 476-78.

(2) Vincent, George E. “The Rivalry of Social Groups,” American Journal of Sociology, XVI (1910-11), 469-84.

(3) Ordahl, George. “Rivalry: Its Genetic Development and Pedagogy,” The Pedagogical Seminary, XV (1908), 492-549. [Bibliography.]

(4) Ely, Richard T. Studies in the Evolution of Industrial Society. Chap. ii, “Rivalry and Success in Economic Life,” pp. 152-63. New York, 1903.

(5) Cooley, Charles H. Personal Competition: Its Place in the Social Order and Effect upon Individuals; with Some Considerations on Success. “Economic Studies,” Vol. IV, No. 2. New York, 1899.

(6) Triplett, Norman. “The Dynamogenic Factors in Pacemaking and Competition,” American Journal of Psychology, IX (1897-98), 507-33.

(7) Baldwin, J. Mark. “La Concurrence sociale et l’individualisme,” Revue Internationale de sociologie, XVIII (1910), 641-57.

(8) Groos, Karl. The Play of Man. Translated with author’s co-operation by Elizabeth L. Baldwin with a preface by J. Mark Baldwin. New York, 1901.

D. Discussion

(1) Bagehot, Walter. Physics and Politics. Or thoughts on the application of the principles of “Natural Selection” and “Inheritance” to political society. Chap. v, “The Age of Discussion,” pp. 156-204. New York, 1875.

(2) Robertson, John M. A Short History of Free Thought, Ancient and Modern. 2 vols. New York, 1906.

(3) Windelband, Wilhelm. Geschichte der alten Philosophie. “Die Sophistik und Sokrates,” pp. 63-92. München, 1894.

(4) Mackay, R. W. The Progress of the Intellect as Exemplified in the Religious Development of the Greeks and Hebrews. 2 vols. London, 1850.

(5) Stephen, Sir Leslie. History of English Thought in the Eighteenth Century. 2d ed., 2 vols. London, 1881.

(6) Damiron, J. Ph. Mémoires pour servir à l’histoire de la philosophie au 18ième siècle. 3 vols. Paris, 1858-64.

(7) Draper, J. W. History of the Intellectual Development of Europe. Rev. ed., 2 vols. New York, 1904.

(8) ——. History of the Conflict between Religion and Science. New York, 1873.

(9) Lecky, W. E. H. History of the Rise and Influence of the Spirit of Rationalism in Europe. Rev. ed., 2 vols. New York, 1903.

(10) White, Andrew D. History of the Warfare of Science with Theology. An expansion of an earlier essay, “The Warfare of Science,” 2d. ed., 1877. 2 vols. New York, 1896.

(11) Haynes, E. S. P. Religious Persecution. A study in political psychology. London, 1904.

II. TYPES OF CONFLICT

A. War

1. Psychology and Sociology of War:

(1) Darwin, Charles. The Descent of Man. Chaps. xvii and xviii. “Secondary Sexual Characters of Mammals,” pp. 511-67. (Gives account of the fighting instinct in males and the methods of fighting of animals.) 2d rev. ed. New York, 1907.

(2) Johnson, George E. “The Fighting Instinct: Its Place in Life,” Survey, XXXV (1915-16), 243-48.

(3) Thorndike, Edward L. The Original Nature of Man. “Fighting,” pp. 68-75. New York, 1913.

(4) Hall, G. Stanley. “A Study of Anger,” American Journal of Psychology, X (1898-99), 516-91.

(5) Patrick, G. T. W. The Psychology of Social Reconstruction. Boston, 1920.

(6) ——. The Psychology of Relaxation. Chap. vi, “The Psychology of War,” pp. 219-52. Boston, 1916.

(7) Pillsbury, W. B. The Psychology of Nationalism and Internationalism. New York, 1919.

(8) Trotter, W. Instincts of the Herd in Peace and War. London, 1916.

(9) La Grasserie, R. de. “De l’intolerance comme phénomène social,” Revue International de Sociologie, XVIII (1910), 76-113.

(10) Percin, Alexandra. Le Combat. Paris, 1914.

(11) Huot, Louis, and Voivenel, Paul. Le Courage. Paris, 1917.

(12) Porter, W. T. Shock at the Front. Boston, 1918.

(13) Lord, Herbert Gardiner. The Psychology of Courage. Boston, 1918.

(14) Hall, G. Stanley. Morale, the Supreme Standard of Life and Conduct. New York, 1920.

(15) Roussy, G., and Lhermitte, J. The Psychoneuroses of War. Translated by W. B. Christopherson. London, 1918.

(16) Babinski, J. F., and Froment, J. Hysteria or Pithiatism, and Reflex Nervous Disorders in the Neurology of the War. Translated by J. D. Rolleston, with a preface by E. Farquhar Buzzard. London, 1918.

2. The Natural History of War:

(1) Sumner, William G. War and Other Essays. Edited with an introduction by Albert Galloway Keller. New Haven, 1911.

(2) Letourneau, Ch. La Guerre dans les diverses races humaines. Paris, 1895.

(3) Frobenius, Leo. Weltgeschichte des Krieges. Unter Mitwirkung von Oberstleutnant a. D. H. Frobenius u. Korvetten-Kapitän a. D. E. Kohlhauer. Hannover, 1903.

(4) Bakeless, John. The Economic Causes of Modern Wars. A study of the period 1878-1918. New York, 1921.

(5) Crosby, Oscar T. International War, Its Causes and Its Cure. London, 1919.

(6) Sombart, Werner. Krieg und Kapitalismus. Studien zur Entwicklungsgeschichte des modernen Kapitalismus. Vol. II, München, 1913.

(7) Lagorgette, Jean. Le Rôle de la guerre. Étude de sociologie générale. Préface de M. Anatole Leroy-Beaulieu. Paris, 1906.

(8) Steinmetz, S. R. Der Krieg als sociologisches Problem. Pp. 21 ff. Amsterdam, 1899.

(9) ——. Die Philosophie des Krieges. “Natur- und kultur-philosophische Bibliothek,” Band VI. Leipzig, 1907.

(10) Constantin, A. Le rôle sociologique de la guerre et le sentiment national. Suivi de la guerre comme moyen de sélection collective, par S. R. Steinmetz. “Bibliothèque scientifique internationale,” Tome CVIII. Paris. 1907.

(11) Keller, Albert G. Through War to Peace. New York, 1918.

(12) Worms, René, editor. “Les luttes sociales.” Études et paroles de E. Levasseur, Lord Avebury, René Worms, J. Novicow, Lester F. Ward, A. P. Xénopol, Louis Gumplowicz, Ferdinand Tönnies, Raoul de la Grasserie, Simon Halpércine, Ludwig Stein, Émile Worms, Charles M. Limousin, Frederick Harrison, C. L. Loch, G. Arcoleo, R. Garofalo, J. K. Kochanowski, Léon Phillipe, Alfredo Niceforo, N. A. Abrikossof, Adolphe Landry. Annales de l’institut international de sociologie. Tome XI. Paris, 1907.

(13) Fielding-Hall, H. Nature of War and Its Causes. London, 1917.

(14) Oliver, Frederick S. Ordeal by Battle. London, 1915.

3. War and Human Nature:

(1) Petit-Dutaillis, C. E. “L’Appel de guerre en Dauphiné Ier 2 août 1914,” Annales de l’Université de Grenoble, XXVII (1915), 1-59. [Documents consisting of letters written by instructors and others describing the sentiments with which the declaration of war was received.]

(2) Wood, Walter, editor. Soldiers’ Stories of the War. London, 1915.

(3) Buswell, Leslie. Ambulance No. 10: Personal Letters from the Front. Boston, 1916.

(4) Kilpatrick, James A. Tommy Atkins at War as Told in His Own Letters. New York, 1914.

(5) Fadl, Said Memun Abul. “Die Frauen des Islams und der Weltkrieg,” Nord und Süd, CLV (Nov. 1915), 171-74. [Contains a letter from a Turkish mother to her son at the front.]

(6) Maublanc, René. “La guerre vue par des enfants (septembre, 1914).” (Recits par des enfants de campagne.) Revue de Paris, XXII (septembre-octobre, 1915), 396-418.

(7) Daudet, Ernest, editor. “L’âme française et l’âme allemande.” Lettres de soldats. Documents pour l’histoire de la guerre. Paris, 1915.

(8) “Heimatsbriefe an russische Soldaten.” (Neue philologische Rundschau; hrsg. von dr. C. Wagener und dr. E. Ludwig in Bremen, jahrg. 1886-1908.) Die neue Rundschau, II (1915), 1673-83.

(9) “The Attack at Loos,” by a French Lieutenant. “Under Shell-Fire at Dunkirk,” by an American Nurse. “The Winter’s War,” by a British Captain. “The Bitter Experience of Lorraine,” by the Prefect of Meurthe-et-Moselle. Atlantic Monthly, CXVI (1915), 688-711.

(10) Böhme, Margarete. Kriegsbriefe der Familie Wimmel. (Personal experiences in the Great War). Dresden, 1915.

(11) Chevillon, André. “Lettres d’un soldat,” Revue de Paris, XXII (juillet-août, 1915), 471-95.

(12) Boutroux, Pierre. “Les soldats allemands en campagne, d’après leur correspondance,” Revue de Paris, XXII (septembre-octobre, 1915), 323-43; 470-91

(13) West, Arthur Graeme. The Diary of a Dead Officer. Posthumous papers. London, 1918.

(14) Mayer, Émile. “Emotions des chefs en campagne,” Bibliothèque universelle et Revue Suisse, LXIX (1913), 98-131.

(15) Wehrhan, K. “Volksdichtung über unsere gefallenen Helden,” Die Grenzboten, LXXIV (No. 28, July 14, 1915), 58-64. [Calls attention to growth of a usage (anfangs, wagte sich der Brauch nur schüchtern, hier und da, hervor) of printing verses, some original, some quoted, in the death notices.]

(16) Naumann, Friedrich. “Der Kriegsglaube,” Die Hilfe, XXI (No. 36, Sept. 9, 1915), 576. [Sketches the forces that have created a war creed, in which all confessions participate, immediately and without formalities.]

(17) Roepke, Dr. Fritz. “Der Religiöse Geist in deutschen Soldatenbriefen,” Die Grenzboten, LXXIV (No. 30, July 28, 1915), 124-28. [An interesting analysis of letters which are not reproduced in full.]

(18) Wendland, Walter, “Krieg und Religion,” Die Grenzboten, LXXIV (No. 33, Sept. 11, 1915), 212-19. [Reviews the literature of war and religion.]

(19) Bang, J. P. Hurrah and Hallelujah. The teaching of Germany’s poets, prophets, professors, and preachers; a documentation. From the Danish by Jessie Bröchner. London and New York, 1917.

B. Race Conflict

1. Race Relations in General:

(1) Bryce, James. The Relations of the Advanced and the Backward Races of Mankind. Oxford, 1903.

(2) Simpson, Bertram L. The Conflict of Colour. The threatened upheaval throughout the world, by Weale, B. L. P. [pseud.]. London, 1910.

(3) Steiner, Jesse F. The Japanese Invasion. A study in the psychology of inter-racial contacts. Chicago, 1917.

(4) Stoddard, T. Lothrop. The Rising Tide of Color against White World-Supremacy. New York, 1920.

(5) Blyden, Edward W. Christianity, Islam, and the Negro Race. London, 1888.

(6) Spiller, G., editor. Papers on Inter-racial Problems. Communicated to the First Universal Races Congress, London, 1911, pp. 463-77. Boston, 1911. [Bibliography on Race Problems.]

(7) Baker, Ray Stannard. Following the Color Line. An account of Negro citizenship in the American democracy. New York, 1908.

(8) Miller, Kelly. Race Adjustment. Essays on the Negro in America. New York, 1908.

(9) Stephenson, Gilbert T. Race Distinctions in American Law. New York, 1910.

(10) Mecklin, John M. Democracy and Race Friction. A study in social ethics. New York, 1914.

(11) Evans, Maurice. Black and White in South East Africa. London, 1911.

(12) ——. Black and White in the Southern States. A study of the race problem in the United States from a South African point of view. London, 1915.

(13) Brailsford, H. N. Macedonia: Its Races and Their Future. London, 1906.

(14) Means, Philip A. Racial Factors in Democracy. Boston, 1918.

2. Race Prejudice:

(1) Crawley, Ernest. The Mystic Rose. A study of primitive marriage. Pp. 33-58; 76-235. London, 1902. [Taboo as a mechanism for regulating contacts.]

(2) Thomas, W. I. “The Psychology of Race-Prejudice,” American Journal of Sociology, IX (1903-4), 593-611.

(3) Finot, Jean. Race Prejudice. Translated from the French by Florence Wade-Evans. London, 1906.

(4) Pillsbury, W. B. The Psychology of Nationality and Internationalism. Chap. iii, “Hate as a Social Force,” pp. 63-89. New York, 1919.

(5) Shaler, N. S. “Race Prejudices,” Atlantic Monthly, LVIII (1886), 510-18.

(6) Stone, Alfred H. Studies in the American Race Problem. Chap. vi, “Race Friction,” pp. 211-41. New York, 1908.

(7) Mecklin, John M. Democracy and Race Friction. A study in social ethics. Chap v, “Race-Prejudice,” pp. 123-56. New York, 1914.

(8) Bailey, T. P. Race Orthodoxy in the South. And other aspects of the negro question. New York, 1914.

(9) Parton, James. “Antipathy to the Negro,” North American Review, CXXVII (1878), 476-91.

(10) Duncan, Sara Jeannette. “Eurasia,” Popular Science Monthly, XLII (1892), 1-9.

(11) Morse, Josiah. “The Psychology of Prejudice,” International Journal of Ethics, XVII (1906-7), 490-506.

(12) McDougall, William. An Introduction to Social Psychology. Chap. xi, “The Instinct of Pugnacity,” pp. 279-95; “The Instinct of Pugnacity and the Emotion of Anger,” pp. 49-61. 4th rev. ed. Boston, 1912.

(13) Royce, Josiah. Race Questions, Provincialism, and Other American Problems. Chap. i, “Race Questions and Prejudices,” pp. 1-53. New York, 1908.

(14) Thomas, William I. “Race Psychology: Standpoint and Questionnaire, with Particular Reference to the Immigrant and the Negro,” American Journal of Sociology, XVII (1912-13), 725-75.

(15) Bryce, James. Race Sentiment as a Factor in History. A lecture delivered before the University of London, February 22, 1915. London, 1915.

3. Strikes:

(1) Schwittau, G. Die Formen des wirtschaftlichen Kampfes, Streik, Boykott, Aussperung, usw. Eine volkswirtschaftliche Untersuchung auf dem Gebiete der gegenwärtigen Arbeitspolitik. Berlin, 1912. [Bibliography.]

(2) Hall, Frederick S. Sympathetic Strikes and Sympathetic Lockouts. “Columbia University Studies in Political Science.” Vol. X. New York, 1898. [Bibliography.]

(3) Bing, Alexander M. War-time Strikes and Their Adjustment. With an introduction by Felix Adler. New York, 1921.

(4) Egerton, Charles E., and Durand, E. Dana. U. S. Industrial Commission Reports of the Industrial Commission on Labor Organizations. “Labor Disputes and Arbitration.” Washington, 1901.

(5) Janes, George M. The Control of Strikes in American Trade Unions. Baltimore, 1916.

(6) United States Strike Commission, 1895. Report on the Chicago Strike of June-July, 1894, by the United States Strike Commission. Washington, 1895.

(7) Warne, Frank J. “The Anthracite Coal Strike,” Annals of the American Academy, XVII (1901), 15-52.

(8) Anthracite Coal Strike Commission, 1902-3. Report to the President on the Anthracite Coal Strike of May-October, 1902, by the Anthracite Coal Strike Commission. Washington, 1903.

(9) Hanford, Benjamin. The Labor War in Colorado. New York, 1904.

(10) Rastall, B. M. The Labor History of the Cripple Creek District. A study in industrial evolution. Madison, Wis., 1908.

(11) United States Bureau of Labor. Report on Strike at Bethlehem Steel Works, South Bethlehem, Pennsylvania. Prepared under the direction of Charles P. Neill, commissioner of labor. Washington, 1910.

(12) Wright, Arnold. Disturbed Dublin. The story of the great strike of 1913-14, with a description of the industries of the Irish Capital. London, 1914.

(13) Seattle General Strike Committee. The Seattle General Strike. An account of what happened in the Seattle labor movement, during the general strike, February 6-11, 1919. Seattle, 1919.

(14) Interchurch World Movement. Report on the Steel Strike of 1919. New York, 1920.

(15) U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics. Report in Regard to the Strike of Mine Workers in the Michigan Copper District. Bulletin No. 139. February 7, 1914.

(16) ——. Strikes and Lockouts, 1881-1905. Twenty-first annual report, 1906.

(17) Foster, William Z. The Great Steel Strike and Its Lessons. New York, 1920.

(18) Wolman, Leo. “The Boycott in American Trade Unions,” Johns Hopkins University Studies in Historical and Political Science, Vol. XXXIV. Baltimore, 1916.

(19) Laidler, Harry W. Boycotts and the Labor Struggle. Economic and legal aspects. With an introduction by Henry R. Seager. New York and London, 1914.

(20) Hunter, Robert. Violence and the Labour Movement. New York, 1914. [Bibliography.]

4. Lynch Law and Lynching:

(1) Walling, W. E. “The Race War in the North,” Independent, LXV (July-Sept. 1908), 529-34.

(2) “The So-Called Race Riot at Springfield,” by an Eye Witness. Charities, XX (1908), 709-11.

(3) Seligmann, H. J. “Race War?” New Republic, XX (1919), 48-50. [The Washington race riot.]

(4) Leonard, O. “The East St. Louis Pogrom,” Survey, XXXVIII (1917), 331-33.

(5) Sandburg, Carl. The Chicago Race Riots, July, 1919. New York, 1919.

(6) Chicago Commission on Race Relations. Report on the Chicago Race Riot. [In Press.]

(7) Cutler, James E. Lynch-Law. An investigation into the history of lynching in the United States. New York, 1905.

(8) National Association for the Advancement of Colored People. Thirty Years of Lynching in the United States, 1889-1918. New York, 1919.

(9) ——. Burning at Stake in the United States. A record of the public burning by mobs of six men, during the first six months of 1919, in the states of Arkansas, Florida, Georgia, Mississippi, and Texas. New York, 1919.

C. Feuds

(1) Miklosich, Franz. Die Blutrache bei den Slaven. Wien, 1887.

(2) Johnston, C. “The Land of the Blood Feud,” Harper’s Weekly, LVII (Jan. 11, 1913), 42.

(3) Davis, H., and Smyth, C. “The Land of Feuds,” Munseys’, XXX (1903-4), 161-72.

(4) “Avenging Her Father’s Death,” Literary Digest, XLV (November 9, 1912), 864-70.

(5) Campbell, John C. The Southern Highlander and His Homeland. Pp. 110-13. New York, 1921.

(6) Wermert, Georg. Die Insel Sicilien, in volkswirtschaftlicher, kultureller, und sozialer Beziehung. Chap. xxvii, “Volkscharacter und Mafia.” Berlin, 1901.

(7) Heijningen, Hendrik M. K. van. Het Straf- en Wraakrecht in den Indischen Archipel. Leiden, 1916.

(8) Steinmetz, S. R. Ethnologische Studien zur ersten Entwicklung der Strafe, nebst einer psychologischen Abhandlung über Grausamkeit und Rachsucht. 2 vols. Leiden, 1894.

(9) Wesnitsch, Milenko R. Die Blutrache bei den Südslaven. Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte des Strafrechts. Stuttgart, 1889.

(10) Bourde, Paul. En Corse. L’esprit de clan—les mœurs politiques—les vendettas—le banditisme. Correspondances adressées au “Temps.” Cinquième édition. Paris, 1906.

(11) Dorsey, J. Owen. “Omaha Sociology,” chap. xii, “The Law,” sec. 310, “Murder,” p. 369. In Third Annual Report of the U.S. Bureau of American Ethnology, 1881-82. Washington, 1884.

(12) Woods, A. “The Problem of the Black Hand,” McClure’s, XXXIII (1909), 40-47.

(13) Park, Robert E., and Miller, Herbert A. Old World Traits Transplanted. New York, 1921. [See pp. 241-58 for details of rise and decline of Black Hand in New York.]

(14) White, F. M. “The Passing of the Black Hand,” Century, XCV, N. S. 73 (1917-18), 331-37.

(15) Cutrera, A. La Mafia e i mafiosi. Origini e manifestazioni. Studio di sociologia criminale, con una carta a colori su la densità della Mafia in Sicilia. Palermo, 1900.

D. The Duel and the Ordeal of Battle

(1) Millingen, J. G. The History of Duelling. Including narratives of the most remarkable personal encounters that have taken place from the earliest period to the present time. 2 vols. London, 1841.

(2) Steinmetz, Andrew. The Romance of Duelling in All Times and Countries. London, 1868.

(3) Sabine, Lorenzo. Notes on Duels and Duelling. Boston, 1855.

(4) Patetta, F. Le Ordalie. Studio di storia del diritto e scienza del diritto comparato. Turino, 1890.

(5) Lea, Henry C. Superstition and Force. Essays on the wager of law, the wager of battle, the ordeal, torture. 4th ed., rev., Philadelphia, 1892.

(6) Neilson, George. Trial by Combat. In Great Britain. Glasgow and London, 1890.

E. Games and Gambling

(1) Culin, Stewart. “Street Games of Boys in Brooklyn, N.Y.,” The Journal of American Folk-Lore, IV (1891), 221-37.

(2) ——. Korean Games. With notes on the corresponding games of China and Japan. Philadelphia, 1895.

(3) ——. “Games of the North American Indians,” Twenty-fourth Annual Report of the Bureau of American Ethnology, 1902-3. Washington, 1907.

(4) Steinmetz, Andrew. The Gaming Table: Its Votaries and Victims, in all Times and Countries, Especially in England and in France. London, 1870.

(5) Thomas, W. I. “The Gaming Instinct,” American Journal of Sociology, VI (1900-1901), 750-63.

(6) O’Brien, Frederick. White Shadows in the South Seas. Chap. xxii, pp. 240-48. [Memorable Game for Matches in the Cocoanut Grove of Lano Kaioo].

III. CONFLICT GROUPS

A. Gangs

(1) Johnson, John H. Rudimentary Society Among Boys. “Johns Hopkins University Studies in Historical and Political Science,” 2d series, XI, 491-546. Baltimore, 1884.

(2) Puffer, J. Adams. The Boy and His Gang. Boston, 1912.

(3) Sheldon, H. D., “Institutional Activities of American Children,” American Journal of Psychology, IX (1899), 425-48.

(4) Thurston, Henry W. Delinquency and Spare Time. A study of a few stories written into the court records of the City of Cleveland. Cleveland, Ohio., 1918.

(5) Woods, Robert A., editor. The City Wilderness. A settlement study by residents and associates of the South End House. Chap. vi, “The Roots of Political Power,” pp. 114-47. Boston, 1898.

(6) Hoyt, F. C. “The Gang in Embryo,” Scribner’s, LXVIII (1920), 146-54. [Presiding justice of the Children’s Court of the city of New York.]

(7) Boyhood and Lawlessness. Chap. iv, “His Gangs,” pp. 39-54. Russell Sage Foundation, New York, 1914.

(8) Culin, Stewart. “Street Games of Boys in Brooklyn, N.Y.,” The Journal of American Folklore, IV (1891), 221-37. [For observations on gangs see p. 235.]

(9) Adams, Brewster. “The Street Gang as a Factor in Politics,” Outlook LXXIV (1903), 985-88.

(10) Lane, W. D. “The Four Gunmen,” The Survey, XXXII (1914), 13-16.

(11) Rhodes, J. F. “The Molly Maguires in the Anthracite Region of Pennsylvania,” American Historical Review, XV (1909-10) 547-61.

(12) Train, Arthur. “Imported Crime: The Story of the Camorra in America,” McClure’s, XXXIX (1912), 82-94.

B. Sects

(1) Nordhoff, Charles. The Communistic Societies of the United States from Personal Visit and Observation. Including chapters on “The Amana Society,” “The Separatists of Zoar,” “The Shakers,” “The Oneida and Wallingford Perfectionists,” “The Aurora and Bethel Communes.” New York, 1875.

(2) Gillin, John L. The Dunkers: A Sociological Interpretation. New York, 1906. [Columbia University dissertation, V, 2.]

(3) Milmine, Georgine. The Life of Mary Baker G. Eddy and the History of Christian Science. New York, 1909.

(4) Gehring, Johannes. Die Sekten der russischen Kirche, 1003-1897. Nach ihrem Ursprunge und inneren Zusammenhange dargestellt. Leipzig, 1898.

(5) Grass, K. K. Die russischen Sekten. I, “Die Gottesleute oder Chlüsten”; II, “Die weissen Tauben oder Skopzen.” Leipzig, 1907-9.

(6) Lea, Henry Charles. The Moriscos of Spain. Their conversion and expulsion. Philadelphia, 1901.

(7) Friesen, P. M. Geschichte der alt-evangelischen mennoniten Brüderschaft in Russland (1789-1910) im Rahmen der mennonitischen Gesamtgeschichte. Halbstadt, 1911.

(8) Kalb, Ernst. Kirchen und Sekten der Gegenwart. Unter Mitarbeit verschiedener evangelischer Theologen. Stuttgart, 1905.

(9) Mathiez, Albert. Les origines des cultes révolutionnaires. (1789-92). Paris, 1904.

(10) Rossi, Pasquale. Mistici e Settarii. Studio di psicopatologia collettiva. Milan, 1900.

(11) Rohde, Erwin. Psyche: Seelencult und Unsterblichkeitsglaube der Griechen. Freiburg, 1890.

C. Economic Conflict Groups

(1) Webb, Sidney and Beatrice. Industrial Democracy. London, 1897.

(2) ——. The History of Trade Unionism. (Revised edition extended to 1920.) New York and London, 1920.

(3) Commons, John R., editor. Trade Unionism and Labor Problems, Boston, 1905.

(4) ——. History of Labor in the United States. 2 vols. New York, 1918.

(5) Groat, George G. An Introduction to the Study of Organized Labor in America. New York, 1916.

(6) Hoxie, Robert F. Trade Unionism in the United States. New York, 1917.

(7) Marot, Helen. American Labor Unions. By a member. New York, 1914.

(8) Carlton, Frank T. Organized Labor in American History. New York, 1920.

(9) Levine, Louis. Syndicalism in France. 2d rev. ed. of The Labor Movement in France. New York and London, 1914.

(10) Brissenden, Paul Frederick. The I.W.W., A Study of American Syndicalism. New York, 1919. [Bibliography.]

(11) Brooks, John Graham. American Syndicalism; the I.W.W. New York, 1913.

(12) ——. Labor’s Challenge to the Social Order. Democracy its own critic and educator. New York, 1920.

(13) Baker, Ray Stannard. The New Industrial Unrest. Reasons and remedies. New York, 1920.

(14) Commons, John R. Industrial Democracy. New York, 1921.

(15) Brentano, Lujo. On the History and Development of Gilds and the Origin of Trade Unions. London, 1870.

D. Parties

(1) Bluntschli, Johann K. Charakter und Geist der politischen Parteien. Nördlingen, 1869.

(2) Ostrogorskïi, Moisei. Democracy and the Organization of Political Parties. Translated from the French by F. Clarke with a preface by Right Hon. James Bryce. New York and London, 1902.

(3) Lowell, A. Lawrence. Governments and Parties in Continental Europe. 2 vols. Boston, 1896.

(4) Merriam, C. E. The American Party System. In press.

(5) Haynes, Frederick E. Third Party Movements since the Civil War, with Special Reference to Iowa. A study in social politics. Iowa City, 1916.

(6) Ray, P. O. An Introduction to Political Parties and Practical Politics. New York, 1913.

(7) Bryce, James. The American Commonwealth. 2 vols. New rev. ed. New York, 1911.

(8) Hadley, Arthur T. Undercurrents in American Politics. Being the Ford Lectures, delivered at Oxford University, and the Barbour-Page Lectures, delivered at the University of Virginia in the spring of 1914. New Haven, 1915.

(9) Lowell, A. Lawrence. Annual Report of the American Historical Association, 1901. 2 vols. “The Influence of Party upon Legislation in England and America” (with four diagrams), I, 319-542. Washington, 1902.

(10) Beard, Charles A. Economic Origins of Jeffersonian Democracy. New York, 1915.

(11) Morgan, W. T. English Political Parties and Leaders in the Reign of Queen Anne, 1702-1710. New Haven, 1920.

(12) Michels, Robert. Political Parties. A sociological study of the oligarchical tendencies of modern democracy. Translated by Eden and Cedar Paul. New York, 1915.

(13) Haines, Lynn. Your Congress. An interpretation of the political and parliamentary influences that dominate law-making in America. Washington, D.C., 1915.

(14) Hichborn, Franklin. Story of the Session of the California Legislature. San Francisco, 1909, 1911, 1913, 1915.

(15) Myers, Gustavus. The History of Tammany Hall. 2d ed. rev. and enl. New York, 1917.

(16) Roosevelt, Theodore. An Autobiography. New York, 1913.

(17) Platt, Thomas C. Autobiography. Compiled and edited by Louis J. Lang. New York, 1910.

(18) Older, Fremont. My Own Story. San Francisco, 1919.

(19) Orth, Samuel P. The Boss and the Machine. A chronicle of the politicians and party organization. New Haven, 1919.

(20) Riordon, William L. Plunkitt of Tammany Hall. A series of very plain talks on very practical politics, delivered by ex-Senator George Washington Plunkitt, the Tammany philosopher, from his rostrum—the New York County Court House boot-black stand. New York, 1905.

E. Nationalities

(1) Oakesmith, John. Race and Nationality. An inquiry into the origin and growth of patriotism. New York, 1919.

(2) Lillehei, Ingebrigt. “Landsmaal and the Language Movement in Norway,” Journal of English and Germanic Philology, XIII (1914), 60-87.

(3) Morris, Lloyd R. The Celtic Dawn. A survey of the renascence in Ireland, 1889-1916. New York, 1917.

(4) Keith, Arthur. Nationality and Race from an Anthropologist’s Point of View. London, 1919.

(5) Barnes, Harry E. “Nationality and Historiography” in the article “History, Its Rise and Development,” Encyclopedia Americana, XIV, 234-43.

(6) Fisher, H. A. “French Nationalism,” Hibbert Journal, XV (1916-17), 217-29.

(7) Ellis, H. “The Psychology of the English,” Edinburgh Review, CCXXIII (April, 1916), 223-43.

(8) Bevan, Edwyn R. Indian Nationalism. An independent estimate. London, 1913.

(9) Le Bon, Gustave. The Psychology of Peoples. London, 1898.

(10) Francke, K. “The Study of National Culture,” Atlantic Monthly, XCIX (1907), 409-16.

(11) Auerbach, Bertrand. Les races et nationalités en Autriche-Hongrie. Deuxième édition revisée. Paris, 1917.

(12) Butler, Ralph. The New Eastern Europe. London, 1919.

(13) Kerlin, Robert T. The Voice of the Negro 1919. New York, 1920. [A compilation from the colored press of America for the four months immediately succeeding the Washington riots.]

(14) Boas, F. “Nationalism,” Dial, LXVI (March 8, 1919), 232-37.

(15) Buck, Carl D. “Language and the Sentiment of Nationality,” The American Political Science Review, X (1916), 44-69.

(16) McLaren, A. D. “National Hate,” Hibbert Journal, XV (1916-17), 407-18.

(17) Miller, Herbert A. “The Rising National Individualism,” Publications of the American Sociological Society, VIII (1913), 49-65.

(18) Zimmern, Alfred E. Nationality and Government. With other wartime essays. London and New York, 1918.

(19) Small, Albion W. “Bonds of Nationality,” American Journal of Sociology, XX (1915-16), 629-83.

(20) Faber, Geoffrey. “The War and Personality in Nations,” Fortnightly Review, CIII (1915), 538-46. Also in Living Age, CCLXXXV (1915), 265-72.

TOPICS FOR WRITTEN THEMES

1. The History of Conflict as a Sociological Concept

2. Types of Conflict: War, the Duello, Litigation, Gambling, the Feud, Discussion, etc.

3. Conflict Groups: Gangs, Labor Organizations, Sects, Parties, Nationalities, etc.

4. Mental Conflicts and the Development of Personality

5. Sex Differences in Conflict

6. Subtler Forms of Conflict: Rivalry, Emulation, Jealousy, Aversion, etc.

7. Personal Rivalry in Polite Society

8. Conflict and Social Status

9. The Strike as an Expression of the Wish for Recognition

10. Popular Justice: the History of the Molly Maguires, of the Night Riders, etc.

11. The Sociology of Race Prejudice

12. Race Riots in the North and the South

13. War as an Action Pattern, Biological or Social?

14. War as a Form of Relaxation

15. The Great War Interpreted by Personal Documents

16. Conflict and Social Organization

17. Conflict and Social Progress

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION

1. How do you differentiate between competition and conflict?

2. Is conflict always conscious?

3. How do you explain the emotional interest in conflict?

4. In your opinion, are the sexes in about the same degree interested in conflict?

5. In what way do you understand Simmel to relate conflict to social process?

6. What are the interrelations of war and social contacts?

7. “Without aversion life in a great city would have no thinkable form.” Explain.

8. “It is advantageous to hate the opponent with whom one is struggling.” Explain.

9. Give illustrations of feuds not mentioned by Simmel.

10. How do you distinguish between feuds and litigation?

11. What examples occur to you of conflicts of impersonal ideals?

12. What are the psychological causes of war?

13. “We may see in war the preliminary process of rejuvenescence.” Explain.

14. Has war been essential to the process of social adjustment? Is it still essential?

15. What do you understand by war as a form of relaxation?

16. How do you interpret Professor James’s reaction to the Chautauqua?

17. What is the rôle of conflict in recreation?

18. Is it possible to provide psychic equivalents for war?

19. What application of the sociological theory of the relation of ideals to instinct would you make to war?

20. How do you distinguish rivalry from competition and conflict?

21. What bearing have the facts of animal rivalry upon an understanding of rivalry in human society?

22. What are the different devices by which the group achieves and maintains solidarity? How many of these were characteristic of the war-time situation?

23. In what way is group rivalry related to the development of personality?

24. How does rivalry contribute to social organization?

25. What do you understand by Giddings’ distinction between cultural conflicts and “logical duels”?

26. Have you reason for thinking that culture conflict will play a lesser rôle in the future than in the past?

27. To what extent was the world-war a culture conflict?

28. Under what circumstances do social contacts make (a) for conflict, and (b) for co-operation?

29. What has been the effect of the extension of communication upon the relations of nations? Elaborate.

30. What do you understand by race prejudice as a “more or less instinctive defense-reaction”?

31. To what extent is race prejudice based upon race competition?

32. Do you believe that it is possible to remove the causes of race prejudice?

33. In what ways does race conflict make for race consciousness?

34. What are the different elements or forces in the interaction of races making for race conflict and race consciousness?

35. Is a heightening of race consciousness of value or of disadvantage to a racial group?

36. How do you explain the present tendency of the Negro to substitute the copying of colored models for the imitation of white models?

37. “In the South, the races seem to be tending in the direction of a bi-racial organization of society, in which the Negro is gradually gaining a limited autonomy.” Interpret.

38. “All racial problems are distinctly problems of racial distribution.” Explain with reference to relative proportion of Negroes, Chinese, and Japanese in certain sections of the United States.

39. Why have few or no race riots occurred in the South?

40. Under what circumstances have race riots occurred in the North?