This recently accepted broader view of history which, as President Harding says, is an influence making for peace, a new ally to the world forces struggling for a higher and better civilization, can not be implanted in the minds of the public, as I have demonstrated in the first chapter of this book, through educators and writers employing only the old media for the dissemination of their teachings. Neither the book, the rostrum, the pulpit, the printed word, nor all of them combined, have made, nor can they make, that kind of impress upon the much-too-illiterate public which will compel the race to cease committing its habitual crimes and blunders. But, strangely enough, at the very moment when the enlightened minds of all nations, through the words of contemporary statesmen, scholars and writers, have become convinced of the “essential unity” of human history there has been granted to mankind a medium for the universal dissemination of new ideas, discoveries, facts and generalizations that has in it the power to perform for the race a service the necessity for which President Harding has eloquently demonstrated. Scientists and historians have of late served as continuity writers for the great picture drama of man’s past, and, lo, the story of the race reveals itself not as scattered, unrelated incidents but as a majestic, coördinated tale, but partially told, whose dénouement may be more splendid than we have hitherto dared to hope it could be. No student of world affairs can fail to be impressed, despite the cataclysm that overtook the race in 1914, by the pathetic but hopeful and inspiring fact that mankind, by a reasonable and not too difficult confinement of his energies to civilized, peaceful, constructive activities, could raise itself to a much higher plane of civilization in a comparatively short time from the slough of despondency in which it now finds itself. All that is necessary to give Man the buoyancy, courage and incentive necessary to overcome the evils that beset the world is the assurance that the iconoclasm that periodically destroys his own handiwork, the destructive mischievousness of an evil spirit that he has not as yet exorcised, shall never again be allowed to function, that wide-spread wars shall be permanently relegated to the bloody, accusatory past. The osteopaths assert that a slight maladjustment of even a small bone in a man’s skeleton may doom him to death from some fatal malady seemingly unrelated to the framework of his body. Whatsoever may be the truth in this assertion, it serves to illustrate the point I am making, namely, that the cause of war—any war, small or great,—appears to be almost always ludicrously insignificant compared to the damage it does. We are always face to face with the hideous fact that any slight dislocation of the bony structure of modern civilization might, as was shown by the recent war of wars, bring about its complete annihilation. Surely it is incumbent upon us, if we are