If some of us have felt that, beyond all other evils which translate themselves into public policy, those with which these pages deal constitute the greatest, it is not because war means the loss of life, the killing of men. Many of our noblest activities do that. There are so many of us that it is no great disaster that a few should die. It is not because war means suffering. Suffering endured for a conscious and clearly conceived human purpose is redeemed by hope of real achievement; it may be a glad sacrifice for some worthy end. But if we have floundered hopelessly into a bog because we have forgotten our end and purpose in the heat of futile passion, the consolation which we may gather from the willingness with which men die in the bog should not stand in the way of our determination to rediscover our destination and create afresh our purpose. These pages have been concerned very little with the loss of life, the suffering of the last seven years. What they have dealt with mainly is the fact that the War has left us a less workable society, has been marked by an increase in the forces of chaos and disintegration. That is the ultimate indictment of this War as of all wars: the attitude towards life, the ideas and motive forces out of which it grows, and which it fosters, makes men less able to live together, their society less workable, and must end by making free society impossible. War not only arises out of the failure of human wisdom, from the defect of that intelligence by which alone we can successfully fight the forces of nature; it perpetuates that failure and worsens it. For only by a passion which keeps thought at bay can the 'morale' of war be maintained. The very justification which we advance for our war-time censorships and propaganda, our suspension of free speech and discussion, is that if we gave full value to the enemy's case, saw him as he really is, blundering, foolish, largely helpless like ourselves; saw the defects of our own and our Allies' policy, saw what our own acts in war really involved and how nearly they resembled those which aroused our anger when done by the enemy, if we saw all this and kept our heads, we should abandon war. A thousand times it has been explained that in an impartial mood we cannot carry on war; that unless the people come to feel that all the right is on our side and all the wrong on the enemy's, morale will fail. The most righteous war can only be kept going by falsehood. The end of that falsehood is that our mind collapses. And although the mind, thought, judgment, are not all-sufficient for man's salvation, it is impossible without them. Behind all other explanations of Europe's creeping paralysis is the blindness of the millions, their inability to see the effects of their demands and policy, to see where they are going.