PSYCHIC RESEARCH AND THE WAR

 THIS age is so practical that men engaged in any work are expected to defend it by showing its relation to the problems with which the world is immediately concerned. We cannot get a hearing unless we satisfy the public that we can contribute to its ends. Each science tries to vindicate itself by declaring what it does for the general welfare or for the solution of the problems confronting civilization. Most of the sciences have a direct relation to practical problems. Many, therefore, will ask whether psychic research can help to solve the world problems of the day. Those who are interested in the question whether we live after death will have no difficulty in answering the question. But those who are absorbed in material affairs may ridicule or neglect the remote issues of a problem like psychic research. To most people it seems a vain endeavor to lift the veil of existence. Their assumption is that Isis must always remain veiled and that man's business is only with the world of sense. Like the ancient Greeks, who thought that the gods lived in an intermundane world where they could exercise no influence on terrestrial events, they disconnect spirit from earthly affairs and await in sullen or happy indifference the end of life and the world.

But the psychic researcher has a problem of more immediate interest than the skeptic and the Philistine dream of. We are not seeking to establish remote relationships when we assert that psychic research bears directly on the problems of war. People easily see that wheat, turnips, and pig iron affect the issues of civilization, but they less clearly realize the place of psychic phenomena in determining history.

If psychic research were occupied merely with a few oddities of mental experience it might well be said to have no connection with the war. If it were exclusively concerned with phenomena like telepathy or mind-reading, or with coincidental dreams, or with the mysteries of the diving-rod, a man would be foolhardy who essayed to speak of its importance in the problems of war, unless he could show its direct connection with the one consideration that makes war a nightmare to the better members of the human race. We may explore the marginal phenomena of the mind all we please and find no practical interest in them, until we find their relation to the one pivotal interest of human reflection; namely, the immortality of the soul. We may criticize human nature, justly or unjustly, for its obsession with this idea. We may contend that man is too much concerned with the other world and too little concerned with his daily duties in this world. But this criticism does not alter the facts. The practical problem is to deal with facts as they are and to consider what effect a belief has, whether or not it is justifiable. Hence in any preliminary discussion of this problem we are concerned not with what is ideally preferable, but with the actual state of mind that determines human conduct. Psychic research would have little interest for most people, if it did not bear upon this large question of the nature and destiny of the human mind. Its subsidiary phenomena might otherwise interest only men who seek to amuse themselves with abnormalities. But the scientific study of the relation between matter and mind shows many of the phenomena of psychic research to be crucial in determining the meaning of all mental facts. There are marginal phenomena which suggest that consciousness and personality are not bubbles on the ocean, soon lost in its engulfing embrace. Apparitions, mediumistic communications with the dead, and suggestions of a transcendental world that reveal an infinite scope for the mind give the subject an interest and importance scarcely equaled since the speculations of Plato and the teachings of Christ.

 How does the belief in immortality affect the problems of war? What are the problems of war? The answers to these questions are not simple. But the one element that enters into both answers is the problem of death. If war were a pugilistic encounter, in which both combatants come out alive, psychic research would have nothing to do with the issue. But the central interests in war are human ideals and death. In war death comes to the strongest of the race and comes without the ordinary calculations and risks of life. In the normal conditions of existence, the healthy man has no time or interest to spend in thinking about death. The attainment of our ideals is the object of action and when these preoccupy attention the prospect of death fades into the margin of consciousness. If we cannot achieve our aims and are attacked by disease, we lose interest in life and calmly await the end. It is true that human kind cannot be classified in this hard and fast way. For there are large numbers that can never lose sight of the grave in their thought and action. But the majority of men are Stoics' if not in virtue, in the habit of taking things as they come and wasting as little energy as possible on the fear of death. Lack of time, or fear of losing the game, keeps the dread spectre below the horizon. But when war confronts us, it brings certainties and risks that we do not have to meet in the regular course of normal life. The one thing that hovers always in the field of consciousness is the prospect of losing life and ideals at one stroke; the question for the man who values his present existence is whether the sacrifice is worth while. Death or maiming for life confronts the soldier every day of his career, and he will feel the tragedy of the situation in proportion to the value which he places on life.

 If we asserted that a belief in immortality is essential to the making of good soldiers, that unqualified statement would meet with instant denial. There are instances in which the belief has favorably affected the character and the courage of soldiers. All will agree that the courage of the Japanese in the war against Russia was increased by their belief in survival and a future meeting with their ancestors. The Crusaders also were influenced by their belief in immortality. And we could perhaps find many races profoundly influenced in their martial life and ideals by this belief. But it is far from universal. Whole races in the past either did not have the belief at all, or held it in a form that did not connect it with martial valor. Savages are usually little influenced by it.

 The Greeks and Romans, especially the latter, were not primarily affected in military affairs by the belief in immortality. Other motives were substituted for it. The Roman race was essentially Stoic in temperament, long before the philosophy of that name organized reasons for its view of life. Roman citizens died for the state and did not expect to reap a reward in another world for their heroism, though we can find among them individual exceptions. It was Christianity that gave the doctrine of the immortality of the soul an important place in the philosophy of conduct. Christianity emphasized the belief so strongly and merged other interests in it in such a manner that it became the pivotal doctrine of the system. The belief in immortality is certainly not essential to the formation of the heroic virtues of the soldier, and it would be folly for any man to insist that it always has this effect on life and character. All depends on the place it occupies in the social and individual scheme of life. Its importance will depend entirely on its relation to the rest of our beliefs.

 I said above that the influence of the belief on conduct will depend on the value which we attach to the present life. If we do not value this life, we are not likely to place any high value on life after death. Emphasis on the importance of death is proportionate to interest in present living. When it is not mere desire of living that determines our actions, but some principle, such as patriotism, the family, science, literature, or success, we are apt to put the idea of survival in a secondary place among motives. But if we regard the joys of physical life either as above all others or as the only joys we are sure of, we thus emphasize the importance of death as the termination of them. Now the materialistic philosophy emphasizes the idea that death is the end of all things and assures us that we are not certain of any other happiness than what we can attain in the present. It thus cuts off the unsuccessful from any hope of realizing natural ambitions and assures all persons that the shortening of life is so much unrequited sacrifice. In an age of little comfort and hard living, the passions of luxury and avarice have no place; and when happiness is hardly attainable on any terms, the sacrifice of life is easy. The comforts and luxuries which science and invention have brought to modern life make life so attractive that death, if not feared, is at least hated. When in doubt about a future life man tries to prolong consciousness in present conditions and endeavors to stave off the fatal day of death, because he feels no assurance that there is anything for his personality beyond the grave. What he can achieve here he is certain of. What the future holds in store for him is unknown, and the unknown is no incentive to action. But if he is sure that death is not the end of all things and that it only brings a change of environment; that it only continues life, and that it brings a reward for deeds well done, he meets it cheerfully and giving up this life is no sacrifice to him.

 Lucretius, the Roman materialist, regarded the fear of death as the greatest evil man has to face, and St. Paul accepted the same view of it. But each had a different solution of the problem. Lucretius thought to overcome this fear by teaching man the doctrine of annihilation. St. Paul endeavored to overcome it by teaching immortality. But in the present state of human opinion no man can expect to dispel this evil by denying immortality. Survival after death may not be a fact; but annihilation is none the less dreaded. If the existence and prolongation of consciousness can be proved to be evil, men may logically be taught that it should be destroyed. But the average healthy man will not be influenced by the doctrine that suicide is his duty or his salvation!

 The view of life after death as somewhat like the Hades of ancient superstitions or the sulphurous hell of some later ages, makes the fear of death natural. It was possibly such a conception that aroused the hostility of Epicurus and Lucretius. A life after death which only brought more suffering might well suggest the desirability of annihilation. The materialism of Lucretius was a moral protest against an absurd and unjust hell rather than against the prolongation of consciousness. St. Paul saw the problem in a clearer light, and distinguished between survival and suffering. Christianity emphasized salvation quite as much as immortality. St. Paul saw that the fear of death could not be eradicated from the normal man by a doctrine of eternal sleep. If man looks on consciousness as a good, he is not likely to ask for its termination as the great desideratum. He will want to prolong it.

 Now in opposition to materialism Christianity taught the infinite value of the soul and of consciousness. It emphasized life and not death as the highest good. It regarded suffering as a punishment for immoral conduct, not as the caprices of fortune, and so kept a possibility of permanent happiness before the imagination. In this way it established a love of life which, owing to the precarious fortunes of war and the suffering prevalent in some ancient civilizations, hitherto had little opportunity for expression and cultivation. Then with its assurance of life after death, it could face the future with hope; and hope is always the foundation of rational endeavor. It organized civilization on this basis for many centuries and fixed in the human mind expectations which the materialist could not support. When modern materialism came forward with a doctrine of annihilation, it opposed the established ideals of man. It does not degrade or impeach the pleasures of living. It places all man's hopes in the prudent and intelligent pursuit of material good. It places a value on life and yet has to admit that death ends it. It discourages the soldier by asking him to make all the sacrifices while the survivors of war enjoy all the rewards. It laughs at the vicarious atonement taught by religion and yet asks the soldier to perform it. It expects a man to give up all that is dear to him without hope of reward, though it estimates value only in terms of wages and profits. On the theory of materialism man can act only on self-interest in peace and only on self-sacrifice in war. A philosophy which cannot observe the same maxims in peace as in war is destined to easy refutation. But when the doctrine of self-interest is adopted, it dominates the whole attitude towards death. Good soldiers cannot be made from men who measure life by its rewards and yet are asked to relinquish all reward in facing a death that offers them only annihilation.

 In this age, therefore, a belief in immortality will help to produce soldierly qualities. I shall agree at the outset, however, that many persons are not influenced by such a faith. Their sense of right and justice is sufficient to make them disregard desire of reward in another life, and, like the Roman Stoics, they sacrifice life without thinking of any future. Their willingness to act without hope or expectation of reward shows a character which is perhaps more highly respected by the community than if they sought a reward for their action. Some will serve the right, though the heavens fall, and ask no rewards here or hereafter. Even theman who acts from passion may disregard consequences. The old Roman Stoic philosophers took a very uncompromising attitude toward all emotional considerations in conduct, and thought a man a sentimentalist, a weakling, who allowed undue grief, or even any grief, to affect him under the loss of friends or loved ones. They demanded the complete sacrifice of emotion as the sign of virtue 'or manliness. But, as Mr. Lecky finely remarks, this philosophy will not successfully lead men who are not Stoics. The majority of men and women act from motives very different from those enjoined by philosophers. Whether weak or strong, these men have to be reckoned with in the problems of life, individual and social. Most men are governed by some expectation of reward in their lives; indeed in all ordinary affairs any other course is irrational. The man who has amassed a large fortune may work for nothing, but he has already satisfied his ambition for independence. Like all others he expected profits as the wages and reward for action, often wholly disproportionate to the amount of labor performed. In such a world we can not afford to disregard the practical consideration of rewards or consequences. With this consideration dominating most men, whether it be the highest motive of action or not, a belief in survival may be reckoned with as an incentive. It can be used to influence those who would otherwise be cowards in the struggle for right. Much cowardice comes from the love of life. Many of our pacifists are too cowardly to admit that it is want of moral courage that determines their pacifism. They disguise it under the name of conscientious scruples against war. Conscientiousness is regarded as a virtue, and if the coward can deceive the public by assuming the garb of conscientiousness, and thus disguising his cowardice, he may keep the respect of the public or at least ward off its contempt.

 The resentment against the draft was probably in large measure due to exaltation of the love of life above devotion to the principle of sacrifice for justice and for posterity. Under a volunteer system the belief in immortality has less influence than under a draft system. The volunteer has moral character to start with, whether due to a belief in survival or not. He sees his duty and will make any sacrifice to perform it. But the man who will not volunteer, must see some reward in view beyond this life, to make him a good soldier. He has become so habituated to the utilitarian view of life that he must be made to see that he loses nothing by giving his life for an unpersonal ideal of country, family, or justice. If men are convinced that death brings no cessation of their development, they will be good soldiers in peace or war. For soldierly qualities are as important in peace as in war. Courage is not exclusively the virtue of the fighter. It is as necessary in social as in martial life.

 The pragmatist in philosophy cannot escape the view here defended. He measures all truth, especially ethical truth, by consequences. He cannot be a Stoic on the subject of a future life. He must estimate the truth and value of the doctrine by its consequences on the will of men. In this age, saturated as it is with materialistic ideals, he must recognize that immortality is calculated to reclaim the coward. If we are to sacrifice life without regard to consequences, we can reject pragmatism in favor of another philosophy.

 Christ made an interesting statement which seems paradoxical, when he said that he who would have his life must lose it. No saying was ever better justified than this. But it is true only when we understand the spiritual sense in which it is to be taken. No doubt there is a verbal contradiction if we take the term "life" in the same sense in both parts of the sentence. But if the teaching means that the man who voluntarily gives up his life for an ideal loses nothing in the economy of the cosmos, it furnishes an effective basis for the ethics of both peace and war. In fact, no man ever attains salvation in any other way. The mother and father who are tormented by the fear that a son will be killed in the war, forget that his sacrifice, if voluntary, is his salvation. His life in peace might have been anything but his salvation. But when he resolves to be a man and to stand for right in the world, and is willing to give up his life for that service, he is saved. Most Christians worship their Savior because he sacrificed his life on the cross for their redemption, but they do not want their sons to follow his example! They accept the vicarious atonement, but are not willing to make it.

 If psychic research can assure men of a life beyond death, it will put the materialistic love of physical life to shame. There can be no doubt that the materialist is right, if he can show that no life after death is possible. Man must then make the most of the present and perform as few sacrifices as possible to attain his ends. But if it is certain that consciousness and personality continue beyond the grave, it will be much easier to surrender the present and to live the heroic virtues. Indeed they will even be less "heroic." We admire the hero for the sacrifice he makes; but if losing one's life is gaining it, nature requires no such sacrifices of us as the Stoic demands. Sacrifice is not ultimately sacrifice. We make it such only by our false theories. In fact, we might say that our admiration is directly proportioned to our unwillingness to be heroes ourselves. It is the coward who most admires courage. The soldier does not think of his virtues nor of his right to the respect of his fellows. He is not actuated by the desire to be thought heroic; so much the more, then, he needs to be led away from the temptation to value his life according to the pleasures he can secure if he refuses sacrifice in behalf of his country or justice. Psychic research, at least as a part of its service, can administer a benefit to the world, if it can remove all temptation to disregard the appeal to duty and to higher ideals.

 Selfishness is the only sin. It has many ramifications; but all other sins can be interpreted as forms of selfishness and all virtues as self-sacrifice. This maxim once seized, the path of duty is clear to every man. The soldier may commit mistakes of judgment; he may fight on the wrong side; but if his will is right he will not suffer the consequences of bad character. He will have made self-sacrifice the center to which all other forms of virtue gravitate. Any maxim, once adopted, determines of the place of all others in the system of conduct, and serves as the test for their adoption or rejection. Supreme devotion to duty at the sacrifice of life is the one revolutionary decision for every man to make; his life then conforms to the order of the cosmos and his salvation is assured. It is assured because his life goes on, and his compensation is the permanent consciousness of having done the right thing and paid the price. In such a system the continuity of life assures the compensation and shows just what estimate nature puts upon the present life. Materialistic systems make present advantage only standard of value. But ideals can be realized only in the future. No act of will takes place without having future consequences as the determinant of its moral value. That is why belief in survival is a condition of the highest ethical life, even though humanity has not always made the best use of it as a motive.

 Salvation is a state of mind, not any external achievement. We may fail in business or in any other effort to which we devote life; but if we have the right state of mind, we gain a success worth more than the accumulation of material goods. This state of mind will constitute the source of happiness in another world and will serve as the condition for proper adjustment to the future life, as it is also in the present existence, if we would only see it. Hence the sacrifices that the soldier makes help to fix his character and to save him from the epicurean temptations of ordinary life.

 Peace may be a worse state of civilization than war. It often gives an opportunity for the vice and revelry that affect character more harmfully than war can do. To be sure, war is not always good; it is never right on the part of the deliberate aggressor, though it is right on the part of the defender against wanton aggression. Its value is determined by the motives and ideals of the parties involved. War is better than peace when it is waged for ideals better than those of peace. The argument against war is its unnecessary waste and loss in promoting civilization. Devotion to the cause of human brotherhood and reason might effect the same result without the destruction involved in war. Peace, however, may cultivate vices and sins worse than those of war, and fatal to the spiritual development of man. If peace bred the sacrifices and virtues of war, then war would not be necessary. But war is only the natural consequence of the vices which we mistake for civilization. In peace we lie and cheat, in war we kill; and salvation can be obtained by neither course.

 If we can scientifically guarantee a future life we shall have shown that nature values personality or consciousness more highly than physical life, and we shall be in a position to urge the realization of human brotherhood with tenfold force. If any message from the spiritual world can be accepted because of its frequent repetition, it is that human brotherhood, human love, alone guarantees salvation. If that attitude, the conduct inspired by it, were established as the basis of social life, wars would cease and peace would not breed the sins that inevitably lead to war.