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Storm Of Steel

There is in modern war neither grace nor dignity. It Is mad and Inconsequential in its Inception; beyond the scope of human control in its conduct—a dreary shattering of human flesh in conditions of physical and mental disgust, a long agony which can only be ended In exhaustion.

In spite of this truth, which must be evident to millions of people, we to-day contemplate a political situation (It would be more exact to say a psychological situation) whose inevitable outcome seems to be another world war even more stupid, more purposeless and more horrible than the last.

Everywhere In all countries we meet apparently friendly and peaceful human beings; we exchange visits, books. Ideas—not to insist too much on manufactures; we slowly build up an International understanding in which there is no thought of anything but mutual help and general well-being—and Indivisible peace.

Yet in a few days the face of the world may change. Bugles blow, klaxons screech, an immense machine begins to move and we find ourselves segregated, regimented, drafted into armies and navies and workshops Bull-necked demagogues Inject a poisonous propaganda Into our minds and then the storm of steel breaks above us; our bodies become so much manure for an acid soil, and our Ideas, our aspirations, the whole structure of our civilisation, becomes a history which the future may not even record.

The astonishing fact is that men can contemplate such a fate and remain passive. Nothing in the world is so disturbing as human docility. Man is Indeed a wild animal tamed: broken in and made to trot obediently in a ring, to respond to every crack of the whip.

It Is estimated by competent medical authorities that four and a half million people in England live below a decent subsistence level. The conditions are much worse in America, where something like the same number exist on the verge of starvation. At the other end of the scale a few thousand people expend three-quarters of the total Income of the country. It is true that these few thousand protect themselves with armed forces, but these armed forces are the same flesh and blood as the starving millions.

Against the passive resistance of the millions they might fire a few solitary shots, but the blood of their Innocent brothers and sisters would spread like a fire of desolation through their ranks, and their guns would be turned against the tyrants of a system which exacted such vicarious suffering.

But the human animal remains docile. He accepts the tips and kicks, the doles and the charity of these Indifferent and cynical masters.

Only the fact that history shows that the goad may he driven too deep, that out of extreme suffering will come general revolt—only this melancholy thought saves us from complete despair.

—Herbert Read. "An Introduction to Surrealism."