THE ESSAYIST.

Hawera & Normanby Star, Volume LXV, Issue LXV, 20 December 1913, Page 9

THE ESSAYIST.

ON THE POSSIBILITY OF NEW IDEALS.

We never know how near we are to the end of any phase of our experience, and often, when its seeming stability begins to pall upon us, it is a sigh that things are about to take a new turn.

Is the world going on for ever' in its present groove? Is there never again going to be any deep andjradical change? Are the present fashions going to last for ever? We do not mean the fashions in dress. These will change—we know that; they are changing even while we look at them. We mean, rather, the present fashions in our ways of thinking about things. Is the world going to keep on regarding, things in the same way, pursuing the same ends, cherishing the same ideals? He would be a rash man who answered " Yes." He would forget that ideals have changed in the past. Multitudes of individuals and whole nations have been moved in bygone times by ideals that appeal to nobody to-day. There were times when the ideal of asceticism drove thousauds of men into ' caves in the deserts and huts in the forests. These men were regarded by the world as examples of the holiest character and. loftiest aspiration pos-. sible for human nature. There are ascetics still, but their practices are held in very different esteem to-day. There were times when whole nations were carried away by the enthusiasm of crusades for the recovery of the holy places of Palestine from the hands of the Saracens. A crusade for such an object is inconceivable now. . Peter the Hermit would be considered insane were he to lift- up his voice in our streets.'_. The idea of witchcraft swayed the minds of civilised men all the world over a century or two ago, and led to the perpetration of the most barbarous atrocities. It is absolutely impotent now. The truth is that mankind is always acting impulsively on an idea of some sort. We are always governed by our ideas, and our lives, both in their individual and in their

social aspects, are determined by the ideals we entertain. It is by no means certain that the ideals which are paramount at this present moment will remain paramount. It is almost cer-\ tain that they willnot. They will, give place to other, and, we may hope, better ideals. We believe in progress, but progress in the concrete depends j first of all upon progress in the ideal.

One the dominant, ideals of the present day is undoubtedly that of speed. We are continually reminded that this is an age of hurry and -usn; In all our business we are persuaded of tha importance of /'speeding up." Our industries must all .be run at high-; est pressure. Means of communication must be made more rapid. Even cur amusements and recreations demand haste. Everywhere we are impatient of delay. We worship at the shrine of velocity. In Mr Lowes Dickinson's "Modern Symposium" one of the speakers estimates the American character thus:

! The future for them is the Vingdcm of elevators, telephones, motor cars, and flying machines. I"be principle of the universe is Acceleration. We do not know whence we come or whither we go, and, what is more important, we do not care; what we do know is that we are moving faster than anyone ever moved before.

Whatever the Americans are thinking or doing all the world hears about. Other nations may be thinking and doing the same things without proclaiming them so vociferously abroad. We are. all obsessed with the notion that whatever we do must be done quickly. We must crush as much as possible into every day. of every year. We are grown strained and tense in our efforts, not to accomplish great things, but to accomplish many things. When there is nothing of importance to be achieved we crrim the passing hours with unimportait things.

Our manufacturers aim at getting oat more, stuff in the same time; our merchants at pushing more trade through their hands in the same period; our professional men at more interviews ; lawyers at more clients; doctors at more patients; parsons at more sermons. ' Oiir authors must write more books in their lifetime; our painters, must paint more pictures. Whatever time we spare from work must be occupied with pleasures as manifold as we can compass. We must have every evening of the week engaged; we do not hesitate to undertake several engagements in one evning. We must travel faster than we used to do. When we take a holiday we must go farther and see more places and do more things. 'Till every moment as it flies"—that is our motto in everything. * .

We are in a iiurryf to solve all our problem^. Drunkenness, degeneracy, land, ]r\h ir, education, religion, family relationships—we would treat them all by Act o* Parliament, and set everything ri-ht by statute. We are in such haste to reform every abuse and to put everything straight that we have riot time" to study the facts and tne ■conditions of our problems. We have a blind faith in panaceas. Do this one thing, we say, pass this one Bill; and, 10, the millennium. Millenniums don't come in that sudden fashion. Their way <vf approach is gradual. It is step *by step, here a little, and there a Ifttle, aolvitur ambulando, "creep before ye «a«^." , And he. that believetb will nc«t «w3» haßte. » ' * »l .

It seems to us quite conceivable that speed as-an ideal may yet give place to leisure. Surely,the time will come when men will grow weary of the rush and rack of business at the present pace. They will aim at slacking off a bit, and be content with working at a reasonable rate and pressure, and with doing in a day what can be done with comfort to themselves and those who work with them. They will spread their working lives over a longer term out the severity of business strain. Professional men, likewise^ will feel that it is a better thing to do less j and to reach a higher standard of achievement, escaping the worry and the tension of overcrowded days. Men will accomplish as much in the long run then. For they will keep in better health. They will have more complete control of their tempers and faculties. There will be fewer nervous breakdowns. A quieter, calmer, steadier manner of work, with more ease and comfort in it, will not mean less work done, in the end. Rather, perhaps it will mean more as well as better. Were leisure, instead of speed, to commend itself to the world, how much happier we would be in our spare time. We would not be harassed with the notion that* we must needs be doing as much as possible in those few hours or days. We would enjoy our periods of relaxation in a sensible fashion. They would be periods of relaxation — of relaxed strain and relaxed effort. They would be, hours of real leisure. We would see, at last, the folly of going to and fro upon the earth continually, like Satan, and be content to take a holiday quietly. There would be time to think, time to talk, time to read, time, perhaps, even' to pray; time, anyhow, to rest and be ready for work again. ~ And out of that quiet, leisurely, unhurried talking and reading and- thinking and praying there would grow a wisdom and insight which would make for a solution of our many social problems, deeper and more radical than we' are likely to reach by our. hasty and ill-considered experiments. Of course, there would be those who would overdo the ideal of leisure—there are those who overdo everything—but the world might suffeT the sons of idleness for.a season without great detriment to the general good.

Another ideal which we can well conceive giving place to a better is the ideal of wealth. To-day the thought of wealth governs men in all. walks of life. Tol get on, means with us, to get a bigger wage or income. "To gather gear by every wile that's justified by honor" is the goal of universal ambition. The laborer and artisan dream of more pay for their work. The business man wears nerve and life away for larger profits. Men in the professions aim ever at move and bigger fees. We chose occupations for our sons with those ends in view. We do honor to those of our number who attain riches. We assume that the richer a man is the better man he is. It is a mightly assumption. There is,'not a phrase that betrays at once the ideal we cherish* and the folly of it than the phrase "worth so much," which we apply to men. As if a man's worth could be estimated in pounds, shillings, and pence! As if spiritual things could be measured by a material standard!

Now, suppose in the course of time our ambition shifted to a different object. Suppose we gave up wealth as an ideal and chose to set service in it's place. Suppose that, being content with simpler satisfactions in life, we began to consider, not how much wealth we could acquire, but how much service we could render. Our chief thought would be, not to get as much out of the activities of the community for ourselves as we could, but ourselves to contribute as much as ye could to the general well-being. Suppose we came to measure success by the amount of good and useful work done for tha world, and to esteem a man's worth by tha value of his servicesl. Suppose our day's work presented itself to our thought, not as the means of earning Our own living, but as the opportunity of doing something for our fellow-men: and promotion meant, not necessarily higher pay, but greater opportunity of usefulness. Were such a change to come over our way of looking at things, it would alter the whole constitution of society and make a new 'world for us.

Is all that impossible? We do tot believe that it is. Mar is not lie wholly selfish, brute he is sometimes said to be Altruism is as truly <i principle of his nature as egoism it. There are spheres of life in which, it is already his ideal. In his home, we maintain, a man should be unselfish. We < :r/«">mu lim whose aim is to get xs imieli ou 4" of his hin-.'if and to do as little for it as he can. We say that a runn vhf->kl do all i.«. can do for »iis rrmily, ird not cou it what his family does for him, whe;'.iir it be much or little. Service, not reward, is already our ideal in that sphere. So is it in large measure in public affairs. Our public life is the scene of many honest and wholehearted efforts to serve the common n good without 'thought of gain. Th-jre men are ambitious of opportunity. There, it may be true, there are indi-. viduals whose motives- are mixed. There are those who have an axe to grind. . But when w*e speak of mixed motives, let us recognise the nobler and worthier ingredient in the mixture as well as the baser. And let us not forget, to appreciate those who lend their time and their experience to national, municipal and local service, hoping for nothing again. It is the one redeeming feature of the diablene

of war that it rouses, the spirit of emulation in service. ' The true «>l--dier has ever been ready to seize every opportunity that offered of serving his cause, not only without thought of special remuneration, but without considering the cost to himself.

Altruism, unselfishness, the ambition to serve, is not impossible for men. Indeed, it. must, in the long run become not only possible but actual, if civilisation is to progress much farther. It must be extended beyond the" home, beyond the region of public affairs, and become dominant alike in our industrial, commercial, and professional life Our social problems ,every one, wait for the growth and spread of the spirit of service. Failing that; it seems to us, the proletariat is doomed. What^ ever victories it may win will be wrested from it again. Brains must ever get the upper hand'of sinews in any contest, and so long as the prize is wealth the few must always outstrip the many. The day of equitable' distribution will come when men learn to look, not every one upon his own things, but every one upon the things of others; and when to have, by sweat of brow or by toil of brain, advanced the common good, is regarded by the mass of men as its own exceeding great reward.—Dunedin Evening Star, December 6. . •' '