individual is not a killer, but the group is, and
by identifying with it the individual is transformed into a killer. This
is the infernal dialectic reflected in man's history of wars, persecution
and genocide. And the main catalyst of that transformation is the hypnotic
power of the word. The words of Adolf Hitler were the most powerful agents
of destruction at his time. Long before the printing press was invented,
the words of Allah's chosen Prophet unleashed an emotive chain-reaction
which shook the world from Central Asia to the Atlantic coast. Without
words there would be no poetry -- and no war. Language is the main factor
in our superiority over brother animal -- and, in view of its explosive
emotive potentials, a constant threat to survival.
This apparently paradoxical point is illustrated by recent field-observations
of Japanese monkey-societies which have revealed that different tribes of
a species may develop surprisingly different habits -- one might almost
say, different cultures. Some tribes have taken to washing potatoes in the
river before eating them, others have not. Sometimes migrating groups of
potato-washers meet non-washers, and the two groups watch each other's
strange behaviour with apparent bewilderment. But unlike the inhabitants
of Lilliput, who fought holy crusades over the question at which end
to break the egg, the potato-washing monkeys do not go to war with the
non-washers, because the poor creatures have no language which would
enable them to declare washing a divine commandment and eating unwashed
potatoes a deadly heresy.
Obviously the quickest way to abolish war would be to abolish language,
and Jesus seems to have been aware of this when he said: 'Let your
communication be Yea, yea, Nay, nay, for anything beyond that cometh from
the devil.' And in a sense mankind did renounce language long ago, if by
language we mean a method of communication for the whole species. The
Tower of Babel is a timeless symbol. Other species do possess a single
method of communication -- by signs, sounds or by secreting odours --
which is understood by all members of that species. When a St Bernard
meets a poodle they understand each other without needing an interpreter,
however different they look. Homo sapiens, on the other hand, is
split into some 3,000 language groups. Each language -- and each dialect
thereof -- acts as a cohesive force within the group and a divisive force
between groups. It is one of the reasons why the disruptive forces are
so much stronger than the cohesive forces in our history. Men show a
much greater variety in physical appearance and behaviour than any other
species (excepting the products of artificial breeding); and the gift
of language, instead of bridging over these differences, erects further
barriers and enhances the contrast. We have communication satellites
which can convey a message to the entire population of the planet, but
no lingua franca which would make it universally understood. It seems
odd that, except for a few valiant Esperantists, neither UNESCO nor any
international body has as yet discovered that the simplest way to promote
understanding would be to promote a language that is understood by all.
7
In his Unpopular Essays , Bertrand Russell has a telling anecdote:
F.W.H. Myers, whom spiritualism had converted to belief in a future
life, questioned a woman who had lately lost her daughter as to what
she supposed had become of her soul. The mother replied: 'Oh well,
I suppose she is enjoying eternal bliss, but I wish you wouldn't
talk about such unpleasant subjects . . .' [10]
The last item on my list of factors which could account for the pathology
of our species is the discovery of death, or rather its discovery by the
intellect and its rejection by instinct and emotion. It is yet another
manifestation of man's split mind, perpetuating the divided house of
faith and reason. Faith is the older and more powerful partner, and
when conflict arises, the