1. In the Militarist Theory no apology is made for the use of force for moral or other ends. Force is in itself a fine and noble thing, which the weak deprecate only because they are afraid of it and cannot enrol it on their own side. Force is superiority according to nature; this is a supreme and inviolable law. Force is the principle of everything that exists in reality, and not simply in the abstract. It is the basis of all laws and contracts, and these become nothing when it is no longer there to sanction them.
In the picture which they have drawn of force, these men have left no room for justice and moderation, which alone make it worthy of respect and bring about lasting results. The triumph, such as it is, of violence, bounds their whole horizon. Clausewitz writes: “War knows only one means: force. There is no other: it is destruction, wounds, death, and this resort to brutal force is absolutely imperative. As for that right of nations, about which its advocates talk so much, it imposes on the purpose and right of war merely insignificant and, so to speak, negligible, restrictions. In war every idea of humanity is a blunder, a dangerous absurdity. The violence and brutality of combat admit no kind of limitation.”
Froude preached the gospel of force. Thus he expressed it in reply to Cromwell’s critics: “I say frankly, that I believe the control of human things in this world is given to the strong, and those who cannot hold their own ground with all advantage on their side must bear the consequences of their weakness.” The Holy Inquisition might have used this language in Italy or in Spain. Any tyrant might use it at any time. It was denied in anticipation by an older and higher authority than Carlyle in the words, “The race is not always to the swift, nor the battle to the strong.” There is a better morality, if indeed there be a worse, than reverence for big battalions.
Sceptre and crown
Must topple down,
And in the earth be equal made
With the poor crooked scythe and spade ;
Only the actions of the just
Smell sweet and blossom in their dust. [Note: Herbert Paul, Life of Froude, 214.]
In time it came about that, just as the Greek concept of beauty was countered by a competing complementary one, so Thor’s hammer was contrasted with Christ’s cross; the primitive Norse ideal of forcefulness was confronted with a contrary standard of gentleness and tenderness which, if cultivated, would have been found indued with a peculiar and more effective force of their own. But, as we see today, that lesson has not yet been learned; the check has proved but temporary, so fiercely and stubbornly does the human mind—and the invisible powers of the air that dominate it — resent the “foolishness” of the Christ-standard. “Christianity (wrote Heine, years ago) has in some degree softened, but it could not destroy, that brutal German joy of battle. When once the taming talisman, the Cross, breaks in two, the savagery of the old fighters will gush up anew. That talisman is decayed, and the day will come when it will piteously collapse. Then Thor, with his giant’s hammer, will at last spring up and shatter to bits the Gothic cathedrals.” The prediction has become verified. The modern Teutonic mind, suddenly recanting every Christian principle, has reverted to the spirit and methods of its barbaric ancestry and today, through all its princes, professors, philosophers and theologians, is once more exclaiming:
Force rules the world still,
Has ruled it, shall rule it.
Meekness is weakness,
Strength is triumphant.
Over the whole earth
Still it is Thor’s day!
Thou art a God too, O Galilean!
And thus single-handed
Unto the conflict,
Gauntlet or Gospel,
Here I defy thee! [Note: W. L. Wilmshurst, The Seeker, xi. 6]
2. There are two steps in this estimate of force. First, might is made to take precedence of right; and then might and right are identified. The means is transformed into an end. Not only does force precede right, but force itself is right. This is, in the end, as Boutroux says, “force, material brute force, above every principle that can be conceived by man.”
Carlyle was often charged with maintaining that Might is Right. His answer was that he did not hold that Might is Right, but rather that Right is Might. Against this it has been urged that, if either of these sayings is seriously pressed—if, that is, either of them is regarded as an equation—the two are exactly equivalent. This is, of course, obvious; but it may be safely said that neither Carlyle nor any others who have put forward such statements have ever intended them to be understood strictly as equations. Those who say that Might is Right — as Bernhardi, for instance, appears pretty definitely to do—mean that Might, and especially the Might of an organized State, is the basis or ground upon which Right is established. Those, on the other hand, who say that Right is Might, mean that Right is the ultimate source of strength. To treat the two statements as equivalent would be like regarding the statement that Knowledge is Power as equivalent to the saying that Power is Knowledge. Nevertheless, it is not altogether easy to keep the two statements distinct; Carlyle at least was not very successful in doing so. Carlyle’s view was, in the first instance, based on an optimistic theory of the Universe—a theory which he expressed in the saying that “the great Soul of the world is just.” Referring to Mohammed’s advocacy of the use of the sword, Carlyle said, “In this great duel Nature herself is umpire, and can do no wrong. The thing which is deepest rooted in Nature, what we call truest, that thing, and not the other, will be found growing at last.” This certainly comes very near to the doctrine of the “survival of the fittest” in the “struggle for existence,” on which Bernhardi and others rely in their defence of war as the arbiter of national destiny. At least one wants to know what Carlyle understands by Truest. Does it mean “best,” or only “best adapted to the circumstances”? Moreover, Carlyle was constantly telling us that it is impossible to ascertain the Rights of Man, whereas their Mights can be pretty easily discovered; and I think it is true to say that in his later writings the optimistic theory of the universe has largely disappeared. Hence it is not altogether unfair to say that in the end his doctrine is hardly distinguishable from the view that Might is the only practical basis for Right in human affairs. In view of the confusion that is thus created, it is very desirable to try to understand what the real connection between Might and Right is. [Note: J. S. Mackenzie, in The Theory of the State, 69.]
