havoc of war than the easy acceptance of what Ruskin called 'masked
words' in lieu of thinking.

"There are masked words abroad, I say, which nobody understands, but
which everybody uses, and most people will also fight for, live for, or
even die for, fancying they mean this or that or other of the things
dear to them. There were never creatures of prey so mischievous, never
diplomatists so cunning, never poisoners so deadly, as these masked
words; they are the unjust stewards of all men's ideas; whatever fancy
or favourite instinct a man most cherishes, he gives to his favourite
masked word to take care of for him; the word at last comes to have an
infinite power over him--you cannot get at him but by its ministry." In
war-time this domination of 'masked words' is all-powerful, and is
likely to leave the thinking powers of all Europe seriously impaired
when the war is over.

There are those who hold that sheer exhaustion, nervous and economic,
will compel the nations to seek concerted action against the recurrence
of so shattering an experience, that some sheer instinct of
self-preservation will find expression in adequate political
arrangements. I should be the last to deny the reality of the collective
instinct. But remember that, as an instinct, it works blindly, and is
liable to be diverted and frustrated in a thousand ways by the
conflicting streams of narrow passion amongst which it moves. Mere
exhaustion and a general feeling of insecurity cannot yield a
sufficient motive and directing force for the work of international
construction. It is necessary to rationalize this instinct of
self-preservation and co-operation, in order to make it of effective
service. Here lies the heart of our difficulty. War is the most
intensely derationalizing process, and the long steeping of European