An American newspaper has described the attack on Abyssinia as the wickedest war in history. And indeed few wars have seemed less excusable or aroused more universal disgust. Apart from all questions of British interests involved, and apart from the hypocrisy suggested by such an attitude (for it is undeniable that Britain has repeatedly done much that Italy is doing to-day), nothing could be better calculated to offend the sentimental-sporting instincts of the British public of 1935 than the spectacle of a well-equipped modem army with planes, bombs, tanks and (it seems) poison-gas invading a primitive, independent African state.

But though sentiment may give, up to a point, a trustworthy indication of objective right and wrong, it is in the light of dispassionate reasoning and the unbiassed examination of facts that the ethics of Italy’s attack must be scrutinized. What is to be said of it in the light of Catholic teaching? The ethical aspect of the conflict (which the Christian knows to be the most fundamental one) has received insufficient attention.

Last May saw the publication by Messrs. Sheed & Ward in the Heythrop Theological Series of an important manual of Moral and Pastoral Theology by Father Henry Davis, S.J. This book undoubtedly deserves careful consideration for two reasons: for its notably good qualities and for the conception of Christian morality that animates it.

In four large volumes Fr. Davis treats of the principles of moral life (Vol. I); of the commandments of God and of the Church (Vol. II); and of the Sacraments (Vols. Ill and IV). His clarity of exposition, simplicity of expression and liveliness of style contribute towards making the work not only readable but even attractive—a rare quality in works of this sort.

Moreover, this ease in diction is made the vehicle of an accuracy of information, a thorough knowledge of Canon Law and the results of wide experience in dealing with souls that combine to make the book a work of real value. The treatise on the Sacraments has received the author’s more special attention and is particularly successful. In it will be found, accurately and concisely set out, copious instructions and practical directions which will be of great service to the worthy and efficacious administration of the Sacraments and will be readily and profitably referred to by priests engaged in the active ministry. Finally, the author has courageously given unusually full treatment to more delicate questions; he has made considerable use both of papal encyclicals and the results of scientific research on such thorny subjects as education and the difficult problems that confront the consciences of physicians and surgeons.

While it is trite to speak of the realism of St. Thomas, it is less so, perhaps, to attempt to give its precise shade and meaning. The initial question, which I should wish briefly to answer, is whether or not this realism is in the technical sense a critical realism. We are all aware of what is meant by the critical approach which is said, rightly or wrongly, to mark one of the great advances of modem thought. It is just this critical approach which is said to separate thought lifted to the philosophical level from thought which remains on the popular level of ordinary, and perhaps puerile, intelligence. The critical approach requires that the mind should no longer accept anything that does not completely justify itself before the mental court of enquiry. Anteriorly, common sense accepts without discussion a certain number of natural certitudes. Moreover, it is possible to conceive of a philosophy rooted in common sense, which accepts all that the latter accepts in order to hasten forward to the discovery of new truths. To delve into the mystery of things, to scale the heavens, to soar on intrepid wing up into the infinite heights of metaphysics, that is indeed worth the labour of the dialectical effort it demands.

Of what use is it to philosophize except in order to know a little more than that which everybody knows without even having learnt it? But first of all Descartes and, following him, Kant, and after them the whole of nineteenth century philosophy, come to pour cold water on this fine enthusiasm. Before leaving for the stratosphere they require that the mind should assure itself of its jumping-off ground and test its equipment.

A Letter from the Anglican Bishop of Chichester on May 30 of this year raised an interesting question. “In his speech on May 21,'’ he wrote, “Hitler made a great point of his strong desire for the friendliest relations with the British people. But the British people are lovers of freedom and loathe and abhor religious persecution. Their friendship cannot be won while freedom is denied and religious persecution prevails.” And noting that Hitler has proclaimed that Germany can give a lasting contribution to the great work of bringing about a resurrection of the West, he pointed out that “the resurrection of the Occident is not to be achieved by making the race principle into a religion, and attempting to substitute it for the Christian faith which has given its distinctive character to our common Western civilization and which has been the source and inspiration of many of its highest values.”

These firm and clear words had immediately a considerable echo, and an interesting discussion followed in the Times and other papers. Dissenting voices were not lacking, some speaking from the purely political standpoint, others from that of psychology. The former remarked that friendship between peoples is a matter of mutual interest that has nothing to do with community of ideas or sentiments, but is governed simply by utility. The latter feared that blame or criticism of the methods of Hitler and his government could serve no purpose and would only aggravate the sufferings of those persecuted for their religion or race.

In the first place is the preoccupation, “What can we do about the poor?” It is an encouraging uneasiness even if it is only an uneasiness and not a profound unrest. And it certainly does produce its results; quite excellent results; young men become members of the S.V.P.

In the second place is the intellectual argument that commercial industrialism will not do. It rests on authority. It impresses. We applaud Father Drinkwater and Eric Gill.

Two surface responses. Our sympathy has been stirred, our intelligence convinced of wrong and of the possibility of right solution. We heartily wish someone would implement the right solution. We mention it in our prayers, rather shyly wondering what God thinks of our economic phraseology. After all it is very worrying, but we really have done what we could.

In the first place is the repeated plea of Eric Gill that commercial industrialism has reduced the working masses to a subhuman condition of intellectual irresponsibility. It is a strident plea. You cannot shut your ears to it. But if we are to think of a downright solution it means a downright change in the material structure of society. “Man is matter and spirit, soul and body, both real, both good.” Irresponsibility can only be remedied by responsibility; but to translate this into economics responsibility means ownership, or at least an effective share in the control of the material things which very really involve our destiny. We cannot consider with equanimity any large transference of ownership from one kind of people to another unless it takes place in the usual way through the usual commercial channels. We do not like to think of changes which may involve disturbances in the material order.

There are many who profess Catholic Doctrine concerning:

the respect due to society,
the rights of property,
the rights and duties of workers
the relation between capital and labour,
the relation between Church and State,
the rights of Christ Our Redeemer over all men,

but these same many in their words, writings and whole tenor of life behave as if the teaching of Leo XII, Pius X and Benedict XV were no more than a dead letter void of all authority.

(Ubi Arcano.)

These words were among the first published by Pius XI and yet the indictment is still as true to-day, despite all that the Holy Father has done in the last thirteen years to make it inexcusable. Quite obviously the trouble is that the majority of Catholics do not even know that the Church has and propounds a specific social doctrine. And of the small minority which is aware of the existence of the encyclicals Rerum Novarum and Casti Conubii, how many consider these to be enunciations of principles rather than practical instructions?

It remains for the few who have mastered the teaching and applied it to extant conditions to disseminate the precious fruit of their study. The task is indeed herculean and would seem to be too great for early realization but for the signs of active assistance from unexpected sources. The most encouraging of these is the curiosity shown by secular experts; for economists, lawyers and politicians who have been impressed by the claims of Catholic authors are beginning to study the encyclicals in both the old and the new world. Whether they be favourable or otherwise, their reactions should prove of great value to sociology. But it will be some time yet before the result of this interest can be assessed, and meanwhile it is imperative that Catholics of every kind, and clerics in particular, should be increasingly well-informed on this most important topic.