MYSTICISM IN WAR
TO some of us not least among the pungencies, or if you prefer exasperations, of the European war is the spectacle of its leaders appealing to the gods,[1] or rendering them thanks for the victories put down to their credit. The Czar holds up the sacred ikon to be gazed upon by his kneeling, worshipful troops. The Kaiser makes speeches and issues proclamations about the motives and purposes of the God of the Fatherland and of his royal house. Even the British recruit is asked to enter into partnership with God.
But Czar and Kaiser are only true to their kingly parts. As for the British recruit, his cooperation might be considered an instance of delegated sovereignty. But all of his sacerdotal sovereignty the English King has not delegated to his subjects. Some of his sacred war functions George IV himself retains. Has he not vowed not to touch a drop of liquor during the war? A vow is of course a religious act. We recall at once in this connection the vow and sacrifice of Jephtha, the leader of the Hebrew army, and we recall the sacrifice of Iphigenia by her royal father.
Agamemnon in this instance performed a very special act of sacrifice—the circumstances were so contrary—but it was the usual thing for a Greek king whenever he set out on a campaign to sacrifice to deity. Fire from the altar of Zeus was carried in the vanguard of the Spartan army until the army reached the frontier. There the King sacrificed again.
In cultures even more primitive than ours or than the Greek the supernatural rôle of chieftancy in time of war may also be seen. Among the Melanesian tribes of New Guinea there are certain chiefs whose principal function is making war magic. The paiha chief of the Roro-speaking tribes carries charms of leaves and bark and pieces of broken weapons into battle, and before the warriors set out he doctors them. Approaching a hostile village, the Mekeo faia chief spits on a plant called ofe and with it in his hand delivers in the air an overhand blow, striking downward in the direction of the enemy's village. He passes the plant under his right leg and again strikes downward, murmuring spells the while to cause the enemy to sleep heavily. Just before reaching the village he crouches on the ground, blocking his ears with his fingers to
- ↑ I use the plural advisedly—the deity whose building is bombarded can hardly be the same whose aid is invoked to destroy it.
