The Horror of War in “The War Of The Worlds.”

The Horror of War in ?The War Of The Worlds.?Write an essay on THE WAR OF THE WORLDS by H. G WELLS.I would suggest you write on The Horror of War in THE WAR OF THE WORLDS and you must use the file I attached ( Why War? by FREUD) and this specific book:Wells, H. G. The War of the Worlds. London, England: Penguin, 2005. Print.Freud?s reply, dated Vienna, September 1932, has also never been given the attention it deserved:Dear Mr. Einstein:When I learned of your intention to invite me to a mutual exchange of views upon asubject which not only interested you personally but seemed deserving, too, of publicinterest, I cordially assented. I expected you to choose a problem lying on the borderlandof the knowable, as it stands today, a theme which each of us, physicist and psychologist,might approach from his own angle, to meet at last on common ground, though settingout from different premises. Thus the question which you put me?what is to be done torid mankind of the war menace??took me by surprise. And, next, I was dumbfounded bythe thought of my (of our, I almost wrote) incompetence; for this struck me as being amatter of practical politics, the statesman?s proper study. But then I realized that you didnot raise the question in your capacity of scientist or physicist, but as a lover of his fellowmen, who responded to the call of the League of Nations much as Fridtjof Nansen, thepolar explorer, took on himself the task of succoring homeless and starving victims of theWorld War. And, next, I reminded myself that I was not being called on to formulatepractical proposals but, rather, to explain how this question of preventing wars strikes apsychologist.But here, too, you have stated the gist of the matter in your letter?and taken the wind outof my sails! Still, I will gladly follow in your wake and content myself with endorsingyour conclusions, which, however, I propose to amplify to the best of my knowledge orsurmise.You begin with the relations between might and right, and this is assuredly the properstarting point for our inquiry. But, for the term might, I would substitute a tougher andmore telling word: violence. In right and violence we have today an obvious antinomy. Itis easy to prove that one has evolved from the other and, when we go back to origins andexamine primitive conditions, the solution of the problem follows easily enough. I mustcrave your indulgence if in what follows I speak of well-known, admitted facts as thoughthey were new data; the context necessitates this method.Conflicts of interest between man and man are resolved, in principle, by the recourse toviolence. It is the same in the animal kingdom, from which man cannot claim exclusion;nevertheless, men are also prone to conflicts of opinion, touching, on occasion, theloftiest peaks of abstract thought, which seem to call for settlement by quite anothermethod. This refinement is, however, a late development. To start with, group force wasthe factor which, in small communities, decided points of ownership and the questionwhich man?s will was to prevail. Very soon physical force was implemented, thenreplaced, by the use of various adjuncts; he proved the victor whose weapon was thebetter, or handled the more skillfully. Now, for the first time, with the coming ofweapons, superior brains began to oust brute force, but the object of the conflict remainedthe same: one party was to be constrained, by the injury done him or impairment of hisstrength, to retract a claim or a refusal. This end is most effectively gained when theopponent is definitely put out of action?in other words, is killed. This procedure has twoadvantages: the enemy cannot renew hostilities, and, secondly, his fate deters others fromfollowing his example. Moreover, the slaughter of a foe gratifies an instinctive craving?apoint to which we shall revert hereafter. However, another consideration may be set offagainst this will to kill: the possibility of using an enemy for servile tasks if< his spirit bebroken and his life spared. Here violence finds an outlet not in slaughter but insubjugation. Hence springs the practice of giving quarter; but the victor, having from nowon to reckon with the craving for revenge that rankles in his victim, forfeits to someextent his personal security.Thus, under primitive conditions, it is superior force?brute violence, or violence backedby arms? that lords it everywhere. We know that in the course of evolution this state ofthings was modified, a path was traced that led away from violence to law. But what wasthis path? Surely it issued from a single verity: that the superiority of one strong man canbe overborne by an alliance of many weaklings, that l?union fait la force. Brute force isovercome by union; the allied might of scattered units makes good its right against theisolated giant. Thus we may define ?right? (i.e., law) as the might of a community. Yet it,too, is nothing else than violence, quick to attack whatever individual stands in its path,and it employs the selfsame methods, follows like ends, with but one difference: it is thecommunal, not individual, violence that has its way. But, for the transition from crudeviolence to the reign of law, a certain psychological condition must first obtain. Theunion of the majority must be stable and enduring. If its sole raison d?etre be thediscomfiture of some overweening individual and, after his downfall, it be dissolved, itleads to nothing. Some other man, trusting to his superior power, will seek to reinstate therule of violence, and the cycle will repeat itself unendingly. Thus the union of the peoplemust be permanent and well organized; it must enact rules to meet the risk of possiblerevolts; must set up machinery insuring that its rules?the laws?are observed and thatsuch acts of violence as the laws demand are duly carried out. This recognition of acommunity of interests engenders among the members of the group a sentiment of unityand fraternal solidarity which constitutes its real strength.So far I have set out what seems to me the kernel of the matter: the suppression of bruteforce by the transfer of power to a larger combination, founded on the community ofsentiments linking up its members. All the rest is mere tautology and glosses. Now theposition is simple enough so long as the community consists of a number of equipollentindividuals. The laws of such a group can determine to what extent the individual mustforfeit his personal freedom, the right of using personal force as an instrument ofviolence, to insure the safety of the group. But such a combination is only theoreticallypossible; in practice the situation is always complicated by the fact that, from the outset,the group includes elements of unequal power, men and women, elders and children, and,very soon, as a result of war and conquest, victors and the vanquished?i.e., masters andslaves?as well. From this time on the common law takes notice of these inequalities ofpower, laws are made by and for the rulers, giving the servile classes fewer rights.Thenceforward there exist within the state two factors making for legal instability, butlegislative evolution, too: first, the attempts by members of the ruling class to setthemselves above the law?s restrictions and, secondly, the constant struggle of the ruled toextend their rights and see each gain embodied in the code, replacing legal disabilities byequal laws for all. The second of these tendencies will be particularly marked when theretakes place a positive mutation of the balance of power within the community, thefrequent outcome of certain historical conditions. In such cases the laws may gradually beadjusted to the changed conditions or (as more usually ensues) the ruling class is loath torush in with the new developments, the result being insurrections and civil wars, a periodwhen law is in abeyance and force once more the arbiter, followed by a new regime oflaw. There is another factor of constitutional change, which operates in a wholly pacificmanner, viz.: the cultural evolution of the mass of the community; this factor, however, isof a different order and an only be dealt with later.Thus we see that, even within the group itself, the exercise of violence cannot be avoidedwhen conflicting interests are at stake. But the common needs and habits of men who livein fellowship under the same sky favor a speedy issue of such conflicts and, this being so,the possibilities of peaceful solutions make steady progress. Yet the most casual glance atworld history will show an unending series of conflicts between one community andanother or a group of others, between large and smaller units, between cities, countries,races, tribes and kingdoms, almost all of which were settled by the ordeal of war. Suchwar ends either in pillage or in conquest and its fruits, the downfall of the loser. No singleall-embracing judgment can be passed on these wars of aggrandizement. Some, like thewar between the Mongols and the Turks, have led to unmitigated misery; others,however, have furthered the transition from violence to law, since they brought largerunits into being, within whose limits a recourse to violence was banned and a new regimedetermined all disputes. Thus the Roman conquest brought that boon, the pax Romana, tothe Mediterranean lands. The French kings? lust for aggrandizement created a newFrance, flourishing in peace and unity. Paradoxical as its sounds, we must admit thatwarfare well might serve to pave the way to that unbroken peace we so desire, for it iswar that brings vast empires into being, within whose frontiers all warfare is proscribedby a strong central power. In practice, however, this end is not attained, for as a rule thefruits of victory are but short-lived, the new-created unit falls asunder once again,generally because there can be no true cohesion between the parts that violence haswelded. Hitherto, moreover, such conquests have only led to aggregations which, for alltheir magnitude, had limits, and disputes between these units could be resolved only byrecourse to arms. For humanity at large the sole result of all these military enterprises wasthat, instead of frequent, not to say incessant, little wars, they had now to face great warswhich, for all they came less often, were so much the more destructive.Regarding the world of today the same conclusion holds good, and you, too, havereached it, though by a shorter path. There is but one sure way of ending war and that isthe establishment, by common consent, of a central control which shall have the last wordin every conflict of interests. For this, two things are needed: first, the creation of such asupreme court of judicature; secondly, its investment with adequate executive force.Unless this second requirement be fulfilled, the first is unavailing. Obviously the Leagueof Nations, acting as a Supreme Court, fulfills the first condition; it does not fulfill thesecond. It has no force at its disposal and can only get it if the members of the new body,its constituent nations, furnish it. And, as things are, this is a forlorn hope. Still we shouldbe taking a very shortsighted view of the League of Nations were we to ignore the factthat here is an experiment the like of which has rarely?never before, perhaps, on such ascale?been attempted in the course of history. It is an attempt to acquire the authority (inother words, coercive influence), which hitherto reposed exclusively in the possession ofpower, by calling into play certain idealistic attitudes of mind. We have seen that thereare two factors of cohesion in a community: violent compulsion and ties of sentiment(?identifications,? in technical parlance) between the members of the group. If one ofthese factors becomes inoperative, the other may still suffice to hold the group together.Obviously such notions as these can only be significant when they are the expression of adeeply rooted sense of unity, shared by all. It is necessary, therefore, to gauge theefficacy of such sentiments. History tells us that, on occasion, they have been effective.For example, the Panhellenic conception, the Greeks? awareness of superiority over theirbarbarian neighbors, which found expression in the Amphictyonies, the Oracles andGames, was strong enough to humanize the methods of warfare as between Greeks,though inevitably it failed to prevent conflicts between different elements of the Hellenicrace or even to deter a city or group of cities from joining forces with their racial foe, thePersians, for the discomfiture of a rival. The solidarity of Christendom in the Renaissanceage was no more effective, despite its vast authority, in hindering Christian nations, largeand small alike, from calling in the Sultan to their aid. And, in our times, we look in vainfor some such unifying notion whose authority would be unquestioned. It is all too clearthat the nationalistic ideas, paramount today in every country, operate in quite a contrarydirection. Some there are who hold that the Bolshevist conceptions may make an end ofwar, but, as things are, that goal lies very far away and, perhaps, could only be attainedafter a spell of brutal internecine warfare. Thus it would seem that any effort to replacebrute force by the might of an ideal is, under present conditions, doomed to fail. Ourlogic is at fault if we ignore the fact that right is founded on brute force and even todayneeds violence to maintain it.I now can comment on another of your statements. You are amazed that it is so easy toinfect men with the war fever, and you surmise that man has in him an active instinct forhatred and destruction, amenable to such stimulations. I entirely agree with you. I believein the existence of this instinct and have been recently at pains to study its manifestations.In this connection may I set out a fragment of that knowledge of the instincts, which wepsychoanalysts, after so many tentative essays and gropings in the dark, have compassed?We assume that human instincts are of two kinds: those that conserve and unify, whichwe call ?erotic? (in the meaning Plato gives to Eros in his Symposium), or else ?sexual?(explicitly extending the popular connotation of ?sex?); and, secondly, the instincts todestroy and kill, which we assimilate as the aggressive or destructive instincts. These are,as you perceive, the well known opposites, Love and Hate, transformed into theoreticalentities; they are, perhaps, another aspect of those eternal polarities, attraction andrepulsion, which fall within your province. But we must be chary of passing overhastilyto the notions of good and evil. Each of these instincts is every whit as indispensable asits opposite, and all the phenomena of life derive from their activity, whether they workin concert or in opposition. It seems that an instinct of either category can operate butrarely in isolation; it is always blended (?alloyed,? as we say) with a certain dosage of itsopposite, which modifies its aim or even, in certain circumstances, is a prime condition ofits attainment. Thus the instinct of self-preservation is certainly of an erotic nature, but togain its end this very instinct necessitates aggressive action. In the same way the loveinstinct, when directed to a specific object, calls for an admixture of the acquisitiveinstinct if it is to enter into effective possession of that object. It is the difficulty ofisolating the two kinds of instinct in their manifestations that has so long prevented usfrom recognizing them.If you will travel with me a little further on this road, you will find that human affairs arecomplicated in yet another way. Only exceptionally does an action follow on the stimulusof a single instinct, which is per se a blend of Eros and destructiveness. As a rule severalmotives of similar composition concur to bring about the act. This fact was duly noted bya colleague of yours, Professor G. C. Lichtenberg, sometime Professor of Physics atGottingen; he was perhaps even more eminent as a psychologist than as a physicalscientist. He evolved the notion of a ?Compass-card of Motives? and wrote: ?Theefficient motives impelling man to act can be classified like the thirty-two winds anddescribed in the same manner; e.g., Food-Food-Fame or Fame-Fame-Food.? Thus, whena nation is summoned to engage in war, a whole gamut of human motives may respond tothis appeal?high and low motives, some openly avowed, others slurred over. The lust foraggression and destruction is certainly included; the innumerable cruelties of history andman?s daily life confirm its prevalence and strength. The stimulation of these destructiveimpulses by appeals to idealism and the erotic instinct naturally facilitate their release.Musing on the atrocities recorded on history?s page, we feel that the ideal motive hasoften served as a camouflage for the dust of destruction; sometimes, as with the crueltiesof the Inquisition, it seems that, while the ideal motives occupied the foreground ofconsciousness, they drew their strength from the destructive instincts submerged in theunconscious. Both interpretations are feasible.You are interested, I know, in the prevention of war, not in our theories, and I keep thisfact in mind. Yet I would like to dwell a little longer on this destructive instinct which isseldom given the attention that its importance warrants. With the least of speculativeefforts we are led to conclude that this instinct functions in every living being, striving towork its ruin and reduce life to its primal state of inert matter. Indeed, it might well becalled the ?death instinct?; whereas the erotic instincts vouch for the struggle to live on.The death instinct becomes an impulse to destruction when, with the aid of certainorgans, it directs its action outward, against external objects. The living being, that is tosay, defends its own existence by destroying foreign bodies. But, in one of its activities,the death instinct is operative within the living being and we have sought to trace back anumber of normal and pathological phenomena to this introversion of the destructiveinstinct. We have even committed the heresy of explaining the origin of humanconscience by some such ?turning inward? of the aggressive impulse. Obviously whenthis internal tendency operates on too large a scale, it is no trivial matter; rather, apositively morbid state of things; whereas the diversion of the destructive impulse towardthe external world must have beneficial effects. Here is then the biological justificationfor all those vile, pernicious propensities which we are now combating. We can but ownthat they are really more akin to nature than this our stand against them, which, in fact,remains to be accounted for.All this may give you the impression that our theories amount to species of mythologyand a gloomy one at that! But does not every natural science lead ultimately to this?a sortof mythology? Is it otherwise today with your physical sciences?The upshot of these observations, as bearing on the subject in hand, is that there is nolikelihood of our being able to suppress humanity?s aggressive tendencies. In some happycorners of the earth, they say, where nature brings forth abundantly whatever mandesires, there flourish races whose lives go gently by; unknowing of aggression orconstraint. This I can hardly credit; I would like further details about these happy folk.The Bolshevists, too, aspire to do away with human aggressiveness by insuring thesatisfaction of material needs and enforcing equality between man and man. To me thishope seems vain. Meanwhile they busily perfect their armaments, and their hatred ofoutsiders is not the least of the factors of cohesion among themselves. In any case, as youtoo have observed, complete suppression of man?s aggressive tendencies is not in issue;what we may try is to divert it into a channel other than that of warfare.From our ?mythology? of the instincts we may easily deduce a formula for an indirectmethod of eliminating war. If the propensity for war be due to the destructive instinct, wehave always its counter-agent, Eros, to our hand. All that produces ties of sentimentbetween man and man must serve us as war?s antidote. These ties are of two kinds. First,such relations as those toward a beloved object, void though they be of sexual intent. Thepsychoanalyst need feel no compunction in mentioning ?love? in this connection; religionuses the same language: Love thy neighbor as thyself. A pious injunction, easy toenounce, but hard to carry out! The other bond of sentiment is by way of identification.All that brings out the significant resemblances between men calls into play this feelingof community, identification, whereon is founded, in large measure, the whole edifice ofhuman society.In your strictures on the abuse of authority I find another suggestion for an indirect attackon the war impulse. That men are divided into the leaders and the led is but anothermanifestation of their inborn and irremediable inequality. The second class constitutes thevast majority; they need a high command to make decisions for them, to which decisionsthey usually bow without demur. In this context we would point out that men should be atgreater pains than heretofore to form a superior class of independent thinkers,unamenable to intimidation and fervent in the quest of truth, whose function it would beto guide the masses dependent on their lead. There is no need to point out how little therule of politicians and the Church?s ban on liberty of thought encourage such a newcreation. The ideal conditions would obviously be found in a community where everyman subordinated his instinctive life to the dictates of reason. Nothing less than this couldbring about so thorough and so durable a union between men, even if this involved theseverance of mutual ties of sentiment. But surely such a hope is utterly utopian, as thingsare. The other indirect methods of preventing war are certainly more feasible, but entailno quick results. They conjure up an ugly picture of mills that grind so slowly that, beforethe flour is ready, men are dead of hunger.As you see, little good comes of consulting a theoretician, aloof from worldly contact, onpractical and urgent problems! Better it were to tackle each successive crisis with meansthat we have ready to our hands. However, I would like to deal with a question which,though it is not mooted in your letter, interests me greatly. Why do we, you and I andmany another, protest so vehemently against war, instead of just accepting it as another oflife?s odious importunities? For it seems a natural thing enough, biologically sound andpractically unavoidable. I trust you will not be shocked by my raising such a question.For the better conduct of an inquiry it may be well to don a mask of feigned aloofness.The answer to my query may run as follows: Because every man has a right over his ownlife and war destroys lives that were full of promise; it forces the individual intosituations that shame his manhood, obliging him to murder fellow men, against his will; itravages material amenities, the fruits of human toil, and much besides. Moreover, wars,as now conducted, afford no scope for acts of heroism according to the old ideals and,given the high perfection of modern arms, war today would mean the sheer exterminationof one of the combatants, if not of both. This is so true, so obvious, that we can butwonder why the conduct of war is not banned by general consent. Doubtless either of thepoints I have just made is open to debate. It may be asked if the community, in its turn,cannot claim a right over the individual lives of its members. Moreover, all forms of warcannot be indiscriminately condemned; so long as there are nations and empires, eachprepared callously to exterminate its rival, all alike must be equipped for war. But we willnot dwell on any of these problems; they lie outside the debate to which you have invitedme. I pass on to another point, the basis, as it strikes me, of our common hatred of war. Itis this: We cannot do otherwise than hate it. Pacifists we are, since our organic naturewills us thus to be. Hence it comes easy to us to find arguments that justify ourstandpoint.This point, however, calls for elucidation. Here is the way in which I see it. The culturaldevelopment of mankind (some, I know, prefer to call it civilization) has been in progresssince immemorial antiquity. To this processus we owe all that is best in our composition,but also much that makes for human suffering. Its origins and causes are obscure, itsissue is uncertain, but some of its characteristics are easy to perceive. It well may lead tothe extinction of mankind, for it impairs the sexual function in more than one respect, andeven today the uncivilized races and the backward classes of all nations are multiplyingmore rapidly than the cultured elements. This process may, perhaps, be likened to theeffects of domestication on certain animals?it clearly involves physical changes ofstructure?but the view that cultural development is an organic process of this order hasnot yet become generally familiar. The psychic changes which accompany this process ofcultural change are striking, and not to be gainsaid. They consist in the progressiverejection of instinctive ends and a scaling down of instinctive reactions. Sensations whichdelighted our forefathers have become neutral or unbearable to us; and, if our ethical andaesthetic ideals have undergone a change, the causes of this are ultimately organic. Onthe psychological side two of the most important phenomena of culture are, firstly, astrengthening of the intellect, which tends to master our instinctive life, and, secondly, anintroversion of the aggressive impulse, with all its consequent benefits and perils. Nowwar runs most emphatically counter to the psychic disposition imposed on us by thegrowth of culture; we are therefore bound to resent war, to find it utterly intolerable. Withpacifists like us it is not merely an intellectual and affective repulsion, but a constitutionalintolerance, an idiosyncrasy in its most drastic form. And it would seem that the aestheticignominies of warfare play almost as large a part in this repugnance as war?s atrocities.How long have we to wait before the rest of men turn pacifist? Impossible to say, and yetperhaps our hope that these two factors?man?s cultural disposition and a well-foundeddread of the form that future wars will take?may serve to put an end to war in the nearfuture, is not chimerical. But by what ways or byways this will come about, we cannotguess. Meanwhile we may rest on the assurance that whatever makes for culturaldevelopment is working also against war.With kindest regards and, should this expose prove a disappointment to you, my sincereregrets,Yours,SIGMUND FREUDEinstein was apparently not disappointed when Freud?s reply was received. He addressed the followingletter to Freud on December 3, 1932:You have made a most gratifying gift to the League of Nations and myself with yourtruly classic reply. When I wrote you I was thoroughly convinced of the insignificance ofmy role, which was only meant to document my good will, with me as the bait on thehoof; to tempt the marvelous fish into nibbling. You have given in return somethingaltogether magnificent. We cannot know what may grow from such seed, as the effectupon man of any action or event is always incalculable. This is not within our power andwe do not need to worry about it.You have earned my gratitude and the gratitude of all men for having devoted all yourstrength to the search for truth and for having shown the rarest courage in professing yourconvictions all your life. . . .By the time the exchange between Einstein and Freud was published in 1933, under the title Why War?,Hitler, who was to drive both men into exile, was already in power, and the letters never achieved the widecirculation intended for them. Indeed, the first German edition of the pamphlet is reported to have beenlimited to only 2,000 copies, as was also the original English edition.Order for a custom written PAPER now and one of our online writers will write your assignment from scratch within your deadline! !!!Category: Essay Writing

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