NERVES AND MODERN WAR

Nelson Evening Mail, Volume LXXII, 24 November 1938, Page 10

NERVES AND MODERN WAR

BRITAIN IN THE RECENT CRISIS A DOCTOR S ANALYSIS ’GET ON WITH OUR DAILY WORK* In the issue of the Weekly Scot*men” of 15th October appeared the fob* i lowing interesting comments by a wellI known physician:— It is obvious that we have just got past a terribly dangerous spot in th# path along which humanity has so cautiously to find its way. To some people. , with no personal experience of it, war presents many attractions. The love of adventure is nearly universal, among men at any rate, and a measure of risk appeals to the gambling instinct in all ol us. The circumstances of the primitive life of man. during which most of cur inherent instincts were developed, were full of danger, full of risk. Thera can be no doubt that these instincts call for outlet. I doubt if modern war provides any such outlet: but a generation that has no experience of it, and derives it* ideas purely from romantic misrepresentations of it. may well think it does. The pacifists have not yet put up a very satisfactory corrective propaganda. Hazlitt quotes Defoe as saying that there were a hundred-thousand stout country fellows in his time ready to fight to the death against Popery, without knowing whether Popery was a man or a horse. There are plenty of descendants of these “country fellows” alive to-day. "A MORAL EQUIVALENT In proposing what he calls "a moral equivalent for war,” William James wrote: —“We must make new energies end hardihoods, continue the manliness to which the military mind so faithfully clings. Martial virtues must be the enduring cement; intrepidity, contempt of softness, surrender of private interests, obedience to command, must still remain the rock upon which States are built.” “The martial type of character,” he added, “can be bred without war; the only thing needed is to inflame the civic temper as past history has inflamed the military temper.” Modern war aims first and foremost at destroying the “morale”—the “nerve” —of the men, women, and children of the countries involved. The bombing aeroplane is perhaps the most important and most terrible weapon that men have so far invented for the purpose of destroying one another. If ever there was a time when the quality known as British phlegm was desirable, it has surely been during recent weeks. I read the other day obout the workmen who were engaged in laying a few thousand sandbags around the walls of Somerset House in London. Some stranger asked them what they were doing. They laughingly replied:—"Playing at sand-castles.” Last week might have been seen in London and in many other big cities and towns, men digging trenches in parks and public gardens, constructing shelters, fitting people with gas masks, and so on, calmly, coolly. cheerfully—“philosophically,” some would say. Others would use the word “phlegmatic." I think that both terms could be replaced by another—“fatalistically modest”— which implies a recognition and acceptance of our human limitations. THE INEVITABLE IS INEVITABLE I am sure that mistaken ambition and unjustified pride—an exaggerated feeling of self-importance—are at the bottom of half our unhappiness and mental distress. We are what we are. We all have some sense of relative values; let us try to get them clearly defined in our minds and then let us surrender ourselves to the fulfilment or attainment of those things that come at the top of our list so far as our abilities and opportunities permit. Most important of all let us remember that wt are men and women, not gods. But. during our late crisis, British phlegm was not everywhere obvious. Nearly all the people I saw during recent weeks were suffering from a kind of shell-shock. I felt rather like it myself. What I am going to say is, I am sure, applicable to nearly all situations to which mental stress and anxiety are the common reactions. What is inevitable must be accepted. It is not a bit of good to bemoan lost opportunites; not a bit of good to denounce other people, however unfortunate their acts. To paraphrase Mr Roosevelt, our business is with to-day and to-morrow; yesterday has nothing but lessons to give us. If we see any way in which we can lessen the evils of a situation that has arisen, let us do what we can to lessen them. If we feel that anything we could do in a public way would be utterly useless and irrelevant, let us follow Voltaire’s advice and ‘cultivate our garden"; in other words, %et on with our daily work.