In Search of a Concept of Peace

 

World Justice, II/1 zk., 1960-09

 

      The notions of peace and war, which are relatively easy to define in a coherent juridical and philosophical context like that of the Christian Middle Ages, have become at the present time extremely confused and difficult to define precisely.

      In reality, all the great political words such as liberty, right, social order, etc., have today become ambiguous owing to the lack of a common basis of 'collective beliefs'^[1] to which they are related. But in spite of the highly equivocal character of these words, which everyone understands in a different sense, they continue to be employed by everybody, perhaps on account of a sort of inertia of language, which is characteristic of all historical crise, but above all because they are words which have a magical quality of stimulating the dynamism of the masses, and because they constitute extremely effective weapons in the ideological conflicts of our time.

      At the present moment for example, no political system rejects the title of 'democracy'. Even reactionary and fundamentally anti-democratic regimes avail themselves of it and speak of 'organic democracies' or of 'guided democracies' —veritable square circles, which defy common sense^[2].

      The word 'peace' is paradoxically one of the most powerful engines of the cold war, a propaganda weapon that has been brought to perfection, although it is differently wielded, by both East and West.

      As the 'will for peace' is not perfectly clear and definite either on the one side or on the other, it is the 'fear of war' that is exploited in order to impose on people situations or ideas which they would not freely choose.

      In fact, the word 'peace' does not differ in meaning, in the minds of most men, from the purely negative and restrictive expression of 'not war'.

      But the idea of such an antithesis between peace and war is an excessive simplification. 'Peace is not defined as a mere absence of war'. This has been rightly said and repeated constantly in the course of the last few years^[3].

      However, account should be taken of the fact that for a large part of mankind the word 'peace' means nothing else but 'an absence of war'. This inadequate meaning of the word is moreover at the bottom of many individual or collective attitudes in regard to the problem of peace. Furthermore, it has a much wider bearing than one thinks.

      Even Larousse defines peace as the state of a country which is not at war. Indeed, it is in this sense that the word peace is currently used, even among educated people who are not ignorant of the theological and philosophical depth of this notion. When one speaks for example of defending or of maintaining peace, one thinks immediately and almost inevitably of the need to avoid war. But denouncing the inadequacy or inaccuracy of a word does not rid us fo it. Language, like all collective facts, exerts a powerful inertia over individual facts. The negative meaning of the word peace maintains its hold; it has thereby a sociological value which must be taken into account.

      In juridical language, peace and war are two terms which are exact opposites. They represent two sorts of situations which are mutually exclusive and without any middle term. From this point of view, relations between sovereign states can be established in accordance with (wo different systems, depending on whether one adopts a status of peace or a status of war. War is only a particular procedure for regulating differences between peoples; it is very often more effective and more lasting than peaceful action.

      Conflicts and antagonisms between various ideologies, cold war, international civil war and all phenomena of this sort, which are doubtless not new, but which confront our age in a special fashion, are not, properly speaking, wars in the juridical meaning of the word. They correspond rather with 'peace', with the 'species of peace' which we are experiencing now.

      In reality the juridical concept of peace and war is itself going through a crisis at the present moment. In claiming to bring war, which is a fundamental disorder, into an order or appearance of order by means of laws and regulations, we are deluding oureselves into thinking that we have chained up the monster. The present situation destroys to a great extent this illusion. We have reached the point where it is no longer possible to distinguish between peace and war. As M. Le Brun Keris^[4] said: 'We are witnessing a double corruption of war and peace'.

      In the midst of this confusion some progress is occasionally registered. From time to time, an apt word helps us to perceive a fact or an idea of which we had never thought. Sometimes the opposite takes place: the word appears because we have come to realise the existence of some actual fact. In any case, i find the use of the expression 'cold war' very significant. Many people are beginning to understand that a situation in which there is no properly so-called war, that is, a situation like our own in which armed conflict, material violence and the collective means of physical destruction are not directly employed, is all the same very far from peace, and one would not dare to give is this sacred name.

      What then is peace? How can we employ such a notion correctly, in view of the ambiguity which it bears?

      Let us recognise that the idea of peace arouses a marked distrust in the minds of many people, either because it is judged utopian, or because they see in it an instrument of the communist offensive. They do not therefore like it to be talked about too much. It is mentioned with so many reservations that the justice and necessity of war come to be emphasised rather than the need and desire for peace.

      In order to restore the true value of the notion of peace, such as it has been conceived in Christian philosophy, it must be thought out again in relation to the demands of the present situation and the mentality of our age.

      Our business is to bring this notion down to the practical level so as to embody it in standards of political or social action. It is not a question of 'contemplating' peace, but of making peace. Peace is not a dream, a utopia or an unattainable ideal; it is an ensemble of visible and tangible realities. It is a thing of this world, and not solely of the next. Peace here below and the peace of the next life are one and the same peace.

      Max Scheler in an extremely significant note in his little book, Die Idee des Friedens und des Pazifismus, rejects vigorously the 'action of those people who point their finger to the sky when the word 'peace' is mentioned, and who wish therebey to console or to compensate men for the lack of peace in this world'^[5].

      What we wish to emphasise more than anything else in this quotation, is its denunciation of utopianism or of the wait-and-see attitude.

      The 'ordinata concordia' of which St. Augustine speaks, the 'tranquillity of order', and the 'universal consensus' have never existed, and there are many reasons for supposing that they will never exist. These aspirations found their place perfectly in a platonic universe, a system of spheroidal perfections where all ideal wonders met. They no longer fit in, so it is said, with the realities of our situation. The knowledge which we have of the universe and of the human race does not allow us to apply to the social and political order a notion which derives from poetry and illusion rather than from science, and which is a myth similar to those of happiness and immortality. The Augustinian idea of peace is of no use in an historic action adequate to our age. It is more appropriate to contemplation than to action, and shouls be relegated to the religious domain —so say those who reject the notion of peace.

      The struggles between races and classes being the motive force of history, it would be futile to want to suppress them; one might as well try to arrest the movement of history. On the contrary, we should give up illusory beauties and accept, in practical social and political matters, a concept which is less ambitous but at the same time far more realistic: the concept of 'a certain coexistence' between individuals and peoples, while at the same time giving a large place to material force and power.

      This argument, in my opinion, is of no avail agains lucid and realistic Christian pacifism. It would be of value particularly against the kind of Jansenistic pessimism of old Manichaean stock, which reappears in the Church whenever the latter finds itself in difficulties.

      In authentic Christian thought, 'the faith is not an emigration to a foreign kingdom, or a retreat into the garden of good feelings and sweet emotions, but a new attack in the direction of reality', says Paul Ricoeur very accurately^[6]. 'We run away from the world whenever we surrender ourselves to it, and every morbid tendency to give up the world is accompanied by a morbid submission to the forces of this world'^[7]. It is therefore against the falsely Christian idea of an 'escapist peace' that the foregoing argument could be employed.

      There is an analogous danger, in the direction of pelagianism, in the philosophical concept of 'Perpetual Peace', which is founded on the rationalist optimism of the eighteenth century. 'Perpetual Peace', as presented by certain philosophers, is nothing but a state of mankind from which wars have been definitely banished.

      The 'Perpetual Peace' of Bentham, Kant and Scheler might be able one day to be established among a race of human beings that had evolved, after previously passing, as Spencer claims, through a succession of intermediate stages.

      But this is only peace between sovereign States, and if the word peace covers nothing more than this, even though this itself be a great thing, modern man will feel disappointed, for this concept of peace envisages much more important things, such as social justice on a world scale.

      In dialectical materialism, the idea of peace has perhaps a more profound and positive meaning than that contained in 'bourgeois' rationalism.

      The disappearance of wars therefore would not be merely a more or less desirable improvement of human organisation, it would become the logical consequence of the suppression of the 'alienations' from which man and capitalist society are essentially suffering.

      Peace according to the communist notion would be the result of the reconciliation of all the conflicts which are eroding the bourgeois world, and the full flowering of man in the perfect community.

      Man, reconciled with himself and with society, would thereby find real peace in conformity with his nature.

      In the marxist notion, work on behalf of peace is no different from work wihich is done in furtherance of social revolution.

      Capitalist wars, which are the rotten fruit of an alienated society, are blameworthy, but they will not disappear until the 'alienations' themselves have disappeared. This is the reason why bourgeois pacifism is considered by the marxist to be an illusion or a dream with no objective foundation.

      On the other hand, revolutionary war is a 'just' and constructive war, in so far as it aims at implanting a certain justice.

      Paradoxically, we find the marxist maintaining a position similar to that maintained by the defenders of war as the 'supreme instrument of peace'.

      For the communists, peace is not a negative idea, it is a positive reality constituted by an order, that is to say, a system of just and harmonious relationship between men. Evidently this marxist order, towards which history is advancing in irresistible fashion, has nothing in common with the Christian idea of an imperfect and provisional temporal order founded on the power of God. The two positions are so far removed from each other that there is no possibility of confusing them.

      The marxist notion of peace cannot be spearated from dialectical materialism. It cannot be discussed without attacking the marxist thesis of a classless society, which is not at all our business at this moment. In any case it represents one of the most important aspects of marxist prophecy, and I have wished to emphasise the fact that it is not at all a negative notion such as those we have outlined above.

      The forms of pacifism drawing their inspiration from Gandhi, from Christianity, or simply from philanthropy, deny that anything good or just can be built by means of this frightful, blind, irrational and inhuman instrument which modern war is, whether the war is between capitalist states, or whether it takes the form of revolutionary war.

      There is a strong inclination to follow this opinion.

      But with regard to what concerns our problem —the search for the concept of peace— I find all the same that the vision of the pacifist society inspired by love, tolerance, respect and understanding, and from which violence has been abolished for ever, does not bring us many new practical elements.

      Undoubtedly, it is not, as is often claimed, a negative concept. It offers us a spirit, a sensitiveness, a turn of thought and of feeling which favour peace; these are all very estimable things, and they appear to be essential for peace. In fact, there is no true peace without love; violence, discord, and hate are not compatible with peace. They must be swept away, if one wishes to establish peace.

      But this is not sufficient. The Augustinian definition of 'ordinata concordia' relates to an order and to justice. In what must this order and this justice consist?

      Pacifism as such does not give us an answer to this question. It has to appeal to an underlying metaphysic or religion. Otherwise it would itself run the risk of falling into notion that are vague, purely sentimental or merely negative.

      We come back therefore to the Christian notion of peace. It is based on Christian dogma and thought, which it presupposes.

      In Christian thought, peace has several aspects which we must distinguish. There is of course no question of a diversity of objects or 'things', but of one single reality which is examined from several angles, in terms of its own manifestations. In muy opinion we must distinguish at least three planes of peace —the theological, the political and the sociological.

      The first would comprise the absolute and real perfection of peace, which is God: God revealed, Christ, the foundation of all true peace, from whom comes all that there is of true peace in this world. Here we must have recourse to a theology of peace, the elements of which are perhaps well known, but which, like many other lines of theological research, is still awaiting a great work of synthesis.

      In the other cases, one would try to study the reflections of this peace in its temporal manifestations, according to the modalities proper to each science, either in the perspective of political knowledge or in that of a phenomenology of social activity.

      It seems to me that none of these aspects can be omitted if we do not wish to falsify the Christian vision of peace. Peace does not acquire the fulness of its significance in the religious domain alone, which for Christians is that of revelation and of the Faith.

      Certain fundamental ideas of Buddhism, especially that of ahimsâ, or universal non-violence, are very closely connected with peace. They rest indisputably on the pantheistic divinisation of all beings; it is in this context, which is very different from ours, that they must be interpreted. It would be extremely interesting to study also the incidence of the notion of peace on the great religious creeds. But I should like to dwell solely on the Christian notion of peace.

      In the biblical message, peace is an altogether central idea. The man who attains a deep understanding of this, will probably by this fact measure the full depth of the drama of man and God.

      Christ is here announced as the Prince of Peace, the one in whom peace will blossom and abound. He will bring it to all: to those who are near, and to those who are far away. He himself is Peace. His weapons are those of patience, meekness and kindness. He is the Just One par excellence, and at the same time the great peacemaker. Justice and peace meet in him^[8].

      The promise of peace contained in the Bible is not an illusion: it is altogether positive and certain. It manifests itself already in the immediate realities of life, in the life of individuals and in that of communities and human societies. Of course, it is presented in the sacred texts in a hidden and mysterious manner, and in this sense it is comprehensible only by those who have the Faith, a Faith which is perfected moreover by the continuing action of the gift of understanding. It is only in these conditions that the Christian comes to understand slowly and in an always imperfect fashion the mystery of peace and its sacred reality.

      The Cristian promise of peace knows no limits. It is in very deed a promise of universal peace, and nothing allows us to admit that another peace, separate from the peace of Christ, can be established in the world. The peace of the world, in so far as it is a reality although imperfect, is not different from the peace of God^[9]. There is only one peace, God's peace. And all the forms of peace which we know, are but reflections or manifestations of God's peace^[10].

      The peace of God operates in the human order and first of all in hearts and consciences. Charity is a unifying force which brings peace into the soul. Peace between men as well as between classes and nations can be established only by beginning with this interior peace, which is composed of justice and love.

      In the Christian view, work for peace is thereby no different fundamentally from the work of evangelisation and the implanting in souls of the Kingdom of God.

      The origin of all achievement of peace in the world is found in the interior pacification of each individual man. Every work of evangelical penetration and supernatural perfection is by this fact a work for peace, although this of course does not prevent the particular problems of peace from being the object of specific action by Christians.

      The only alienation which weighs on human life, individual as well as social, is that of sin. It is by taking away the sin of the world, that Christ restores peace to the world.

      Christian theology therefore has a very clear idea of what it means when it speaks of peace: it is not at all the absence of war. Nor is it likewise tranquillity in any appearance of order; but it is tranquillity and concord in the order of universal reconciliation established by Christ.

      The ideas which we have just put forward, could serve as an elementary theological exposition of peace, and this is undoubtedly important. However, from the viewpont of effectiveness in this world, it is very debatable whether this would be sufficient or not.

      Action for peace requires to be planned in accordance with political reality. Without this, we run the risk of falling into the trap of 'peace by evasion' to which ge have referred above.

      In speaking therefore of a perfect, absolute, and total peace, which can be enjoyed only in the eternal happiness of heaven, are we forgetting the imperfect, relative, and partial peace of this world, the peace which we are obliged to go on building incessantly even though we know in advance that it is perishable?

      Furthermore, have these two forms of peace, of which we are speaking, anything in common with each other?

      The answers to these questions depend in great measure on the position we take up with regard to the fundamental problem of the relations between God and the world, between the temporal and the eternal.

      Christian thinkers are far from having reached unanimity on this point. There is, first of all, among certain authors an extreme pessimism which denies all possibility of peace for the world, which is considered as the kingdom of Satan. Did not Christ himself introduce the distinction: 'I give you my peace, but not as the world gives it'^[11].

      All political striving for peace would therefore be condemned straightway to failure.

      The only possible attitude with regard to a so-called national or international political order would be that of refusal and abstention. It is by abstaining from all violence and all intolerance, by practising the universal law of love, that man can bear witness to peace in face of a world that is a prey to sin.

      This pessimism is always present in the thought of Karl Barth, although it is greatly mitigated.

      Within the framework of Barth's political theology, the peace of the world may be looked on as an analogue of the peace of God in Barth's sense of analogy, that is to say, as the result of a kind of 'transposition' which enables us to pass from the peace of God to the peace of the earthly City (political or social peace).

      The evangelical preaching of Peace would not be alien to political peace; on the contrary, it ought to be the essence of it and its fundamental source of inspiration.

      A political doctrine of peace would take as its model the attitude of Christ and his Church. Thus, for example^[12], since the Christian community is ecumencial, a political doctrine of peace ought to oppose every sort of local, regional or national egoism, and seek the cooperation of men on the universal plane. In the same way, since the anger of God lasts only for a moment, while his grace acts unceasingly, violent solutions and the use of force ought to be discarded by princes, and thus political peace would descend on all. Etc...

      Barth's position is far from being negative, but it displays all the same a great distrust with regard to the efficaciousness of political action.

      Jacques Maritain, with his 'adequate political philosophy', adopts an attitude more favourable to this action. Of course it would be absurd for him also to wish to defend the idea of a purely political peace, that is to say, dechristianised or laicised. Maritain is of the opinion that a correct political science is impossible without the knowledge of certain truths, furnished by revelation, about the real situation and destiny of man. Starting from Maritain's idea, we may try and formulate a concept of peace which would not be that of a separate, imposed peace, exclusive to victorious Christians, as was sometimes the case with the people of Israel^[13]; it would be peace for all men. It would exist in a more human and just world than the present one, and would be the fruit of a very long germination of the Christian seed in humanity. The idea of an evolution towards peace, so dear to Spencer, would be revived, but on a foundation altogether different from that of positivist thought: it would be the action of the Christian ferment within the world.

      Maritain speaks of a 'Copernican revolution' by virtue of which humanity would come to realise that in preference to force and the means of aggression and coercion which are the only ones known to carnal men, there exists a whole multitude of peaceful means, among which are those he calls 'means of edification' and 'spiritual means of war'.

      The achievement of peace thus accomplished on the initiative of Christians, who alone know the human drama in its full depth, would therefore be the result of the combined effort of all men of goodwill.

      Within the framework of our concrete historical horizon, all the moral, ethical and religious forces of humanity would participate in this grandiose achievement. The situation created in this manner would in any case be an earthly situation different from the heavenly Jerusalem or life eternal, in which the blessed participate in total and definitive peace. Undoubtedly the earthly peace of which we are speaking, is an imperfect and perishable situation, tied to one definite civilisation. But this does not prevent us from considering it as a true peace, an anticipated participation in the peace of Christ.

      The role reserved for Christians in this plan is evidently essential. It is not at all a matter of a label, but of a lifegiving function, perhaps invisible but always real, and by means of which concord and justice, substantial elements of peace, penetrate and become embodied in the world.

      Thus we find a way of reconciling the different and apparently contradictory elements in the Augustinian notion of peace: the peace of the world and God's peace; the peace of men and Christ's peace; earthly peace and eternal peace.

      While the preceding considerations do not give us the solution to our problem, they do at least enable us to avoid certain dangerous reefs and to propose a certain number of conditions which a valid notion of peace must fulfil. Here are some ideas on this:

      a) As the notion of concord, of union of hearts, is an essential element in the concept of peace, we must avoid falling into a sort of romanticism which would make it a sentimental matter. Hymns to friendship, fine speeches and proclamations of love are today gravely discredite. Modern man distrusts them, because his recent experiences have given him a profound shock. We must set our face against this style of diplomacy.

      To reinforce our notion of peace, we must fashion a scientific aud properly 'verifialbe' concept of the idea of concord. This proposition must not cause astonishment. It is my opinion that good understanding between individuals or peoples must manifest itself in ascertainable facts, which are capable of being subjected to analysis by sociological methods. A 'sociological concept of concord' is not at all absurd, although it has the 'epidermic' character proper to this science.

      In the functioning of a society, of a human group, or of any combination of relationships between individuals one can establish the existence of internal tensions analogous to those of any mechanism. These tensions are necessary, but they can operate in two directions. It is a normal thing for human force to oppose the inertia of the object, that is to say, of the task which we intend to perform. This tension is necessary for the performance of the work: the will is the force which removes the obstacles and overcomes the difficulties in man's struggle against nature. But human wills very frequently oppose each other without any external positive goal: they work against each other without any useful result, owing to their discord. In every clash of forces, there is a more or less important wastage of energy; but if the forces are parallel and in the same direction, the sum of the forces and the work they do is perfect. An intelligently planned mechanism must seek to raise this sum to the maximum possible.

      When men are driven by force where they do not wish to go, they offer a certain resistance, either active or passive; on the other offer a certain resistance, either active or passive; on the other hand, when they act according to their own free will, they add their own effort to that of the others. In a society which is governed by dictatorial means, or in a democratic society which is full of dissensions, it is possible undoubtedly to perceive the presence of certain phenomena revealing the interior conflict of hearts and wills. One might say the same about relations between peoples, according as they are conducted in an atmosphere of good understanding, mutual interest and peaceful cooperation, or in an atmosphere of distrust and war.

      Would sociological methods attain a concrete result on these points? What would be the tests which could be used to measure the 'quantity' of existing concord or discord, for example, in a State considered as an 'order of statistical magnitude'?

      The results of the application of this analysis to the real societies in which we live —to nations and national minorities of the same State; to States of different types, democratic, authoritarian or totalitarian; to continental groupings; to relations between countries at different stages of development, to colonial relations, to exchanges in international organisations such as the United Nations, etc.— such results would have great value, giving us an objective knowledge of the phenomenon which we call 'concord'.

      Without this state of concord, it would not be legitimate to speak of pacification. Peace can never be imposed by arms. It is not a question of conquering, but of convincing: 'no basta con vencer, hay que convencer', as D. Miguel de Unamuno said at the beginning of the Spanish civil war. Could arms serve to create the right conditions for discussing peace, and for the establishment of concord? One has the right to think this very disputable; and this is the reason why war is incompatible with peace.

      b) The idea of concord excludes those of violence and constraint; it pre-supposes on the contrary the idea of liberty.

      In concord, one acts freely on the initiative of one's own will, or under the influence of another's will freely accpeted.

      Constraint, dictation, and domination by force have no right to the name of concord, even if they eventually overcome the adversary's resistance and create a kind of unanimity which is completely artificial.

      The man of today has an idea of violence which is far more clear cut than it was in former ages. This is why he is very sensitive to attacks on his freedom of thought or of belief.

      We know today that beside physical violence —and a thousand times more dangerous than it— there exists a psychological violence which usurps control of mens's wills by a clever manipulation of their instincts and elementary reactions.

      We know of the existence of a certain number of techniques of persuasion, of irresistible political propaganda, of the guidance of public opinion, of psychological techniques by means of which one can manufacture in certain societies a kind of unity that is absolutely false. It must be said that these methods have nothing in common with true peace.

      Peace gained by such methods is the same as the peace of guns and graveyards, in which the will of the adversary is never won by reason and generosity. One succeeds only in killing him, or, what is still worse, in destroying in him the quality of a human person.

      Thus in the modern mind, peace and freedom are two ideas on a par with each other. Without political and social liberty, and without economic freedom, one cannot speak of peace either for man or for society.

      If we examine history, it will be seen that many so-called states of peace which have followed on wars, have meant nothing more than the stifling, and the sometimes total and final destruction of the vanquished. It is in this way that whole civilisations have disappeared.

      Today we do not in general employ methodos of physical annihilation like those of Rome against Carthage, although there are analogous cases: for example, the slaughtering of Jews by Hitler. But cultural integration, psychological assimilation, and genocide are often the order of the day, and they are presented even as methods of peace-making. When we are speaking of peace, we must denounce all these methods of 'implanting concord'.

      c) The idea of order is equally indispensable for a valid notion of the idea of peace, in order to exclude concord in disorder, agreement in injustice, and harmony among the wicked. These are things which one cannot call peace.

      We cannot shirk the fact that a state of almost complete discord exists between men at the present time. Indeed, what in principe is just for some, becomes also in principle the height of injustice for others. Speaking the language of facts, it must be said that the ideas of order and disorder are at the present moment relative ideas, on which we should be hard pressed to find agreement.

      In any case there remains a common denominator, much larger than we think, between 'men of goodwill'. The cause of humanity is not totally lost in this respect. We can and we must place a certain trust in man, in order not to fall into the pessimism to which we have referred above. The notion of order, even though it is only a partial one, must be pressed into service. Order, conceived as a total, complete and definitive order, and perfect, complete justice, are not of this world. Outside the domain of the Faith, which is that of the divine perfections, these absolute conceptions are not within man's grasp; nobody can presume on them or pose as the ultimate judge on these questions. Even the Church does not claim to do so. Nevertheless, an incomplete notion of order, a conception of justice however minimal, that finds acceptance among a large group of human beings scattered throughout the world, can serve as a basis of a relative, imperfect notion, which is authentic, that is to say, capable of being inserted in the main line of absolute peace. It could inspire completely positive creations of peace.

      We shall give a small example. Almost everybody recognises that there are, among the nations, men living in sub-human conditions which are absolutely contrary to distributive justice. Everyone talks of the existence of these conditions and of the necessity for condemning them because they are incompatible with an order worthy of the name. Concerted action by States with the aim of avoiding such injustices or of remedying them, would be a positive creation of peace. The result of such an action would evidently not be 'peace', but it ought to be considered as a fraction or a particle of peace. In a certain sense one could say that 'peace' is found there.

      d) The preceding example leads us to another observation. The Augustinian definition, especially as expressed in the formula, 'tranquillity of order', makes us think of a static order, of a perfected equilibrium of forces and tendencies. It evokes a certain immobility, a kind of eternal cycle in which the same phenomena would recur in a 'revolutionary' fashion. (The word 'revolution' was invented, in the language of the Augustinian epoch, in order to express the cyclic 'recurrence' of the heavenly bodies at their appropriate time). But we know that this order does not exist. The human universe is in many respects a world that is in process of making itself. On the other hand, the idea of progress or that of evolution, to which modern man is very attached, do not seem to be well represented by the word 'tranquillity'.

      Absolute, eternal peace in the religious sense of the word consists in the contemplation of God; it is here that the interior concord of the soul is achieved in a perfect manner, man's powers having been entirely set at peace by charity.

      This idea of peace responds doubtless to a sublimated concept of 'tranquillity'. But, for temporal peace I should prefer a more dynamic notion. Peace would consist in a state of orderly activity, conformable with nature, and realised in mutual harmony, for a just and charitable end.

      A more or less unalterable equilibrium of forces between the nations, without a goal, without an ulterior objective, would not correspond very well with the idea of the 'dynamic' peace of which we are speaking.

      This dynamic peace would, on the contrary, be conceived in terms of a specific unity of aims, in a spirit of justice and generosity. The goal of international peace is not immobility or equilibrium between States, but the attainment of the whole group of objectives of universal scope, which are proper to each epoch.

      In each period of history there exist, in fact, immediate, attainable ends, that is to say, purposes which humanity could succeed in achieving in conditions of peace and concord. The non-attainment of any one of these goals constitutes a lack of peace. On the other hand, every time that we achieve a positive result of this order, we can say that we have built one element of peace.

      e) The preceding observations enable us to envisage peace as an attainable and concrete good, capable of differentiation in a series of ends, that is to say, a peace of a completely historic and sociological character. We are therefore not defining eternal peace, but 'our peace', that of today, a peace proportionate to our present possibilities.

      To define this concrete peace is to reveal the immediate goals of possible action.

      In what would 'our peace' consist? Knowledge of the present world offers us a number of objectives on a world scale, such as decolonisation, the solution of the problems of every sort raised by the pressure of populations, the exploitation of new forms of energy, the diversion of armament budgets to useful tasks, etc...

      Is contemporary mankind capable of surmounting the present 'coexistence', and of undertaking, in a union of wills, some at least of these great tasks?

      Such is our idea of peace: it is a positive, relative, concrete and, in principle, a workable idea.