All of these books, history and fiction, drop into the American mind
during its early springtime the seed of antagonism, establish in fact an
anti-English “complex.” It is as pretty a case of complex on the wholesale
as could well be found by either historian or psychologist. It is not so
violent as the complex which has been planted in the German people by
forty years of very adroitly and carefully planned training: they were
taught to distrust and hate everybody and to consider themselves so
superior to anybody that their sacred duty as they saw it in 1914 was to
enslave the world in order to force upon the world the priceless benefits
of their Kultur. Under the shock of war that complex dilated into a form
of real hysteria or insanity. Our anti-English com-plex is fortunately
milder than that; but none the less does it savor slightly, as any nerve
specialist or psychological doctor would tell you—-it savors
slightly of hysteria, that hundreds of thousands of American men and women
of every grade of education and ignorance should automatically exclaim
whenever the right button is pressed, “England is a land-grabber,” and
“What has England done in the War?”
The word complex has been in our dictionary for a long while. This
familiar adjective has been made by certain scientific people into a noun,
and for brevity and convenience employed to denote something that almost
all of us harbor in some form or other. These complexes, these lumps of
ideas or impressions that match each other, that are of the same pattern,
and that are also invariably tinctured with either a pleasurable or
painful emotion, lie buried in our minds, unthought-of but alive, and lurk
always ready to set up a ferment, whenever some new thing from outside
that matches them enters the mind and hence starts them off. The
“suppressed complex” I need not describe, as our English complex is by no
means suppressed. Known to us all, probably, is the political complex.
Year after year we have been excited about elections and candidates and
policies, preferring one party to the other. If this preference has been
very marked, or even violent, you know how disinclined we are to give
credit to the other party for any act or policy, no matter how excellent
in itself, which, had our own party been its sponsor, we should have been
heart and soul for. You know how easily we forget the good deeds of the
opposite party and how easily we remember its bad deeds. That’s a good
simple ordinary example of a complex. Its workings can be discerned in the
experience of us all. In our present discussion it is very much to the
point.
Established in the soft young minds of our school boys and girls by a
series of reiterated statements about the tyranny and hostility of England
towards us in the Revolution, statements which they have to remember and
master by study from day to day, tinctured by the anxiety about the
examination ahead, when the students must know them or fail, these
incidents of school work being also tinctured by another emotion, that of
patriotism, enthusiasm for Washington, for the Declaration of
Independence, for Valley Forge—thus established in the regular way
of all complexes, this anti-English complex is fed and watered by what we
learn of the War of 1812, by what we learn of the Civil War of 1861, and
by many lesser events in our history thus far. And just as a Republican
will admit nothing good of a Democrat and a Democrat nothing good of a
Republican because of the political complex, so does the great—the
vast—majority of Americans automatically and easily remember
everything against England and forget everything in her favor. Just try it
any day you like. Ask any average American you are sitting next to in a
train what he knows about England; and if he does remember anything and
can tell it to you, it will be unfavorable nine times in ten. The mere
word “England” starts his complex off, and out comes every fact it has
seized that matches his school-implanted prejudice, just as it has
rejected every fact that does not match it. There is absolutely no other
way to explain the American habit of speaking ill of England and well of
France. Several times in the past, France has been flagrantly hostile to
us. But there was Lafayette, there was Rochambeau, and the great service
France did us then against England. Hence from our school histories we
have a pro-French complex. Under its workings we automatically remember
every good turn France has done us and automatically forget the evil
turns. Again try the experiment yourself. How many Americans do you think
that you will find who can recall, or who even know when you recall to
them the insolent and meddlesome Citizen Genet, envoy of the French
Republic, and how Washington requested his recall? Or the French
privateers that a little later, about 1797-98, preyed upon our commerce?
And the hatred of France which many Americans felt and expressed at that
time? How many remember that the King of France, directly our Revolution
was over, was more hostile to us than England?
