train this instinct in two ways. In the first place, by an insistence on the martial glories of the history of the State, and on the high duty of serving it in war, the instinct is so developed as to be ready to respond with full collective force in the defence of the country if it is seen to be menaced in any way. The Great War was a sufficient proof of the manner in which this instinct, slumbering for generations in the least militaristic of peoples, could break all barriers and drive peoples headlong to the most amazing exhibitions of collective pugnacity.

The pugnacious instinct undergoes, however, another form of development in the modern State. Experience has shown that in a community in which the individualistic exercise of the instinct, in its primitive form, is completely suppressed, the instinct is apt to reappear under various disguises and to issue in activities which, from the social point of view, are almost as harmful as the unbridled licence of the original form of the instinct. It has often been pointed out, for instance, that when a relatively high form of civilization has been developed somewhat rapidly or suddenly in a community, involving the discountenancing of private combat in redressing wrongs, people show an exaggerated tendency to have recourse to the law for settling their differences-real or imaginary. This result of a suddenly developed and, more especially, of a suddenly imposed civilization, is frequently observed in the African colonies of European Powers. In a different sphere, but also as a result of a rapid rise in the level of civic development, was produced the "litigious Athenian."

The tendency of the instinct to issue, in its individualised form, in socially undesirable manifestations, has suggested to many States the advantage of consciously developing it in the direction of emulation. Emulation is obviously not the same thing as pugnacity, but it is closely related to it. The active encouragement of this impulse is undertaken by the modern State at all levels. In a country such as England it forms the basis of the whole educational system. Education is regarded as a formation of character rather than as a storing of the mind with knowledge, and the modern school is therefore, from first to last, organized on a competitive and emulative basis.

And if in this preliminary training for the arena of life in the modern industrial world, the emulative impulse is encouraged,

how much more prominent does it not become in that struggle itself. There are, indeed, beings who can work in solitude, without the spur of competition, or the incitement of emulation, but they are veritably rari nantes. It is in the gurges vastus of the world that the qualities are called forth which lead to the great development of the arts and sciences, of industry and commerce.

From the standpoint of citizenship, is the tendency of emulation to oust pugnacity wholly desirable? In all but one respect this development would appear to be attended by the best results so far as the organization of social life is concerned. The single exception is, however, of some importance. An important result of the operation of the instinct of pugnacity was the weeding out of the unfit, the incompetent. In a primitive community the instinct of pugnacity led directly to the extermination of those who, owing to weakness or lack of cunning, fell before those in whom the instinct was strong. In a modern community, however, the defeated competitors in the race of life are allowed to survive; nay more, their existence is prolonged, thanks to those who have defeated them. That the State's unfit should be maintained by the State is a proposition that none would now dispute. It is, however, an interference with the working of the principle of natural selection, and when these unfit and incompetent propagate with fertility much greater than the competent and the fit, there would appear to be justification for the further interference with natural laws that the science of eugenics wishes to promote.

The emulation into which pugnacity is often "sublimated" in the modern world shows itself not only between individuals, but between associations of individuals and between nations. Individual manufacturers compete in a spirit of rivalry with other individual manufacturers, or groups of manufacturers. The employer is also the rival of the workman in the decision of the question which of them shall get the larger share of the product of their joint industry and, in a more intense degree, the employers' association is the rival of the trade union. Further, on the international scale, the employers of one nation compete, in the keenest spirit of rivalry, with the employers of other nations, until the rivalry becomes a matter of concern to the nations as a whole. When a contract for a monster bridge, or a fleet of locomotives, goes to one country rather than another, the resulting jubilation

or mortification are not felt merely by the competing companies, but by the public opinion as a whole of the countries concerned.

In international political relations, a determined effort is being made to substitute emulation for pugnacity. The events of 19141918 showed more clearly than ever before that the hopes that had been entertained that in international relations the instinct of pugnacity would decay through disuse had been based on false assumptions. Those years showed, indeed, that the instinct, though latent, had lost none of its force. One of the main aims of the League of Nations, established to secure the maintenance of universal peace, is to render pugnacity really unnecessary in international relations. The force, not only of public opinion, but of history, is on the side of the success of the League. For just as custom has, in civilized States, transmuted by a sort of social alchemy pugnacity into emulation, with the result that physical combat between individuals is rare, so in the international realm the lessons of history suggest that it will be possible, through the development of international law and international administrative machinery, to substitute for physical combat some expression of international emulation.

(4). INSTINCTS OF INDUSTRY.

It remains for us, in our survey of the social significance of the instinctive basis of the life of individuals and societies, to examine the influence exerted on the development of industry by acquisitiveness and curiosity. That the acquisitive instinct supplies one of the prime conditions of material progress is not open to doubt. From the earliest times man has been distinguished from the lower animals, in that he has not consumed day by day the food which he finds that day in an environment which he makes no endeavour to change. The whole structure of modern civilization depends on the fact that mankind has acquired a vast stock of possessions not required for the satisfaction of present needs, which therefore form the great reservoir of capital with which modern industry is supplied.

The contribution of the instinct of curiosity to this result is obviously of the first importance. For it is the source of all science-science "pure" and science "applied." And the application" of science is almost always directly or indirectly in the service of industrial progress. The possession, in a high

degree, of this instinct is an indispensable condition of the progress of any people in the essentials of civilization.

The social implications of both these instincts must be submitted to closer examination. The influence of the operation of the instinct of acquisitiveness on the development of social progress is writ large in history. It has, indeed, been maintained that too much importance has been attached to this instinct.

The strength of the instinct to possess and accumulate has undoubtedly been popularly overestimated. It is true that it has no inherent limits at which satisfaction is secured. But it is also true that the extent to which it is modified by the operation of other instincts has been underestimated. To conceive of the majority of people as potential hoarders and fanatical accumulators is to attribute the instincts of the squirrel or bee to organisms which are vastly more complex in function and motive.*

Yet it remains true that social progress has consisted primarily in the extension to ever-increasing numbers of people of facilities for the pursuit of objects not necessary for mere survival. In a primitive community, all activities are immediately directed to the survival of the individual and the race. Social progress depends on the production of a surplus, something more than is directly necessary for the avoidance of death through starvation. In the history of the world this surplus first began to be produced by agriculture in the deltas of great rivers, such as the Nile. But throughout the various periods of civilization until the industrial revolution the number of people who could acquire a large surplus was extremely small. Labour could produce only a relatively small surplus over what it needed to secure mere survival. Now, under the industrial system, owing to the immense increase in the output of labour resulting from the use of machinery and the development of large-scale production, the surplus produced is extremely large.

In a modern community many motives may co-operate, or even conflict, with the instinct of acquisitiveness in the accumulation of possessions. It is evident that not every operation of the acquisitive instinct is socially desirable. From the standpoint of citizenship the motto "acquire, acquire, acquire," may be highly immoral. All depends on the way in which acquisition

*Ordway Tead, “Instincts in Industry," pp. 83-84.

is made and the way in which the surplus is used. In certain individuals of an anti-social type, the instinct of acquisition may incite to unceasing accumulation of possessions with a view to the exercise of power inimical to the interests, not only of industry, but of the State itself.

A form of activity prompted by this instinct, which is of the highest importance in its social repercussions, is trade, as distinguished from manufacture. The trader is the veritable type of the "acquisitive man." He does not himself make anything, he does not produce in the ordinary sense of the word. He acquires goods in order to sell them and thus acquire wealth. To say this is not to minimise the importance of the functions of the trader. In the ancient world the trader was often the missionary of new ideas. He acted as an intermediary not only in the bartering of goods, but also in the exchange of social customs and the propagation of religious beliefs. In the Middle Ages and the Renaissance, the great trading cities of Italy, such as Venice and Genoa, led the world not only in wealth, but also in art and literature. And in the modern world the trader performs a function of ever-increasing importance. He is the necessary link in every country between producer and consumer. And as between country and country, it is due to him that the relations of modern industry are becoming more and more international. Trade, from the earliest days, has had a great socialising and internationalising influence.

The part played by curiosity in the social development of industry may be indicated very briefly. Its rôle is subordinate to that of acquisitiveness and, from the strictly industrial standpoint, ancillary to it. In one aspect, indeed, curiosity is free and disinterested. It prompts to speculation of the purest and highest kind. Philosophy has been called the child of wonder. It is the highest of disciplines, but the least necessary. Through all time this instinct to know for the sake of knowledge has constituted a precious element in the mental and spiritual progress of the world. But such disinterested activity is, when all is said and done, exceptional. The instinct of curiosity has usually been closely connected in its operation with utilitarian aims, and its purpose has been " directed to practice."

Curiosity co-operated with acquisitiveness in leading to the development of trade, which, as we have seen, has exerted such