Chapter1: The Coming of the Quakers: An Active Inheritance

The King of Nepal was standing in UNESCO House in Paris speaking to a large audience gathered from all over the world to do with thirty-one less developed countries. It was 1982 and already hopes of finding good ways to help such countries were fading. ‘Do you know,’ he asked ‘how it feels to be a poor man. It means to go to bed hungry, to look into the children’s eyes and be sad for them, to be afraid what the next day will bring.’ He looked so sincere, one felt as though he himself must have been fasting. Thoughts flashed through my mind. I wondered how many people in the audience were laughing to themselves to think that a King could tell them anything about hunger. Yet he was wishing to speak for the ‘South,’ people from the ‘North’ were not yet ready to believe that a rich ‘North’ and a poor ‘South’ cannot exist together without leading to disaster. Violent conflict lies ahead. No one at that time could possibly have foreseen the events of September 11th 2001 or the dangers of anthrax in the post, or the bombing of nuclear power stations. To be sure the King used no threats. He did not need to do so. The situation posed the threats. A few people began to comment that development was not working as expected.
My life has been a long search for peace and my love of books has been an integral part of that search. Anyone seeking the implications of a culture of peace does well to consult John Ferguson’s book The Politics of Love . For the first two centuries after Jesus' death, it was assumed that any Roman soldiers who wished to join the Christians would first leave the army. This high standard of ethics, based on Jesus' teachings, was only changed when the

Emperor Constantine brought about a fusion of church and state. In The Politics of Love Ferguson quotes from very numerous early Christian writers of whom two are especially relevant: Minucius Felix in the second or third century wrote, 'It is not right for us even to see or hear of a man being killed.' He was following Tertullian 160 - 220 CE, who also wrote assuming Christians would be pacifists. The second, Lactantius wrote, 'of friends even to their enemies … who know how to restrain their anger.' This is a very strong message to those who control the media today, even too strong for most parents. It stands in stark contrast with the Crusaders and with the British Army, which claims when advertising itself that 'Peace is our business'. This brings the culture of peace into practical terms to be kept in mind especially when looking after children, what a comment on violence on television and the daily newspapers! I am glad to have given up both, and that my children are inclined the same way.
The pacifist element in Christianity was upheld here and there among the monasteries during the Middle Ages, but there was no appeal to ordinary people until the aftermath of the seventeenth century’s religious wars. At that time in Britain, after the Civil War between Catholics and Protestants, war weariness prevailed, and there was a strong move for democratic ways of living. Meanwhile the loyalty to Crown and Church was weakened and a consequent belief followed that the individual’s conscience and insight were better guides to understanding the meaning of the New Testament than the preaching of priests or ministers.
Such were the bases on which the Society of Friends was founded. Early on, the famous Peace Testimony was worded, to inform King Charles II that he had no need to fear the growing movement since 'we do utterly deny all outward wars and strife, and fighting with outward weapons for any end [...] and this is our testimony to the whole world' .
It may have originated as a plea that there was no need for the government to fear a peaceful people, but it became much more than this. It was accepted as the principal statement of the Quakers' non-violence and their culture of peace, which has grown into the basis for new approaches to war, slavery, mental breakdown, race relations, imprisonment, capital punishment, and education in all of which the Friends have played a leading role. All of the

implications of the belief that there is 'that of God in everyone', were not at once apparent but have been more widely appreciated by many, and by some understood, as grounds for a more equal treatment of all individuals, as the centuries passed.
This extension has been facilitated in two ways: firstly in the form of the silent meeting for worship on Sundays. A Methodist minister in Belfast once remarked to me about silent worship: 'You Friends have got the right idea. You do listen to what the Lord has to say. You don't keep telling him what he should do.' He further endeared himself to us by adding: 'if I did not like talking so much, I think I would become a Quaker myself.' Many a young person in the Friends has been influenced by the thoughts which came to them as a result of those deep silences. Some favourite quotations within the Society of Friends include: 'let your lives speak,' and, 'by their fruits ye shall know them.' They imply a combination of meditation and social activity unfamiliar to many other Christian Sects.
In depicting what is intended to happen during a period of worship, it is easy to get carried away. It is not always as straightforward as it first appears. One well-known Quaker used to tell the story against himself in old age, that as a young student at a theological college, delighted with his newly acquired knowledge, he came home to his humble little meeting of simple folk and 'ministered' theologically at length. After the meeting was over, an elderly woman Friend chatted to him but then added the warning: Jesus said, “feed my lambs, not giraffes.” To those who are puzzled by the story, he added that the implication was that having a higher education did not necessarily give a greater understanding of worship.
The updated volume Quaker Faith and Practice , in addition to such documents as the Peace Testimony, also contains brief passages from the writings of individual Friends. Every generation revives these by adding new ones and dropping others. Many of them are drawn from the early years of Quakerism, from such people as George Fox and William Penn and some are taken from the writers of today. This results in an essential measure of flexibility, which is particularly welcome to the young and can open their eyes to visions of the future.

Accepting guidance of this kind, about right and wrong, and the importance of the individual's conscience is never very popular with Church, State, or the representatives of society, because conscience is sometimes a challenge to established authority and Quakers have been a small minority, being both persecuted and ridiculed. They often assumed the habits of minorities, feeling unjustly treated, failing to understand the difficulties of others, sometimes developing an undue sense of superiority, drawing close together to reassure themselves, and making much of family relationships; of 'marrying in', in other words marrying another Quaker. This practice only ended in about 1850, alongside the wearing of Quaker dress. It is little wonder that many emigrated to the colonies in America where there was more freedom in religion.
In the first two centuries, until Victorian times, many Quaker families lived apart, alienated from society at large. On their farms and in their meetings they never suffered from anomie, the loss of guiding values, which is an obvious social problem at the start of the new millennium. It is very unlikely that anyone could join the Friends as a 'member' without a strong sense of right and wrong formed in the silences of the Quaker meetings for worship. There may be some differences, even the 'Peace Testimony' has not made pacifists of us all, but we have all tried to follow the guidance of our consciences, based on our Quaker principles and ethics. My father, for example, volunteered to join the army in the First World War, expecting to fight the Germans in Africa. He was rejected on account of his ill health. This did not prevent him from being an elder in the growing Oxford Meeting of Friends.
Friends have never expected all members to be active pacifists. They do maintain an atmosphere in which active pacifism can flourish by listening in the silence of the meeting or to the ministry of those who speak. In this way, they keep in training for standing out from the crowd - to the point of eccentricity. If perplexed, such Friends can ask the meeting for a committee for 'clearance' to advise him or her whether the career or course of action being considered is right for them to undertake or whether they should give more time for reflection.
It was in such conditions that all my ancestors lived, right back to the founding of the Society in the 1650's. Apart from the Cornish

fisherman, my namesake, Nicholas Jose, said by George Fox to be like Peter the Apostle, little is known about who they were and what they did before 1750. The 18th century was a very quiet period for Friends and I suspect they had not kept in training for what needed to be done. One exception to this was Isaac and Rachel Wilson, my great-grandmother’s great-grandparents. Isaac moved from High Wray to Kendal on marriage to set up as a wool trader in 1740. The southern part of the Lake District and its neighbourhood are known as the birthplace of Quakerism and other relatives lived at Firbank and Brigflatts. As soon as the family's children were old enough, Rachel felt called to ‘travel in the Ministry’ in the British colonies, in what is now part of the USA. The account of her travels conveys the earnest way in which Friends worked in those days under a sense of ‘concern’ for more people to live a peaceful way of life.
It was not until John Bright (1811 -- 1889) that there was a pacifist activist in the family, my mother's, mother's father. He was in Parliament from 1843 until his death, with a short gap, created by his pacifism. Having made a great name during the campaign against the Corn Laws, people came in their thousands to hear him, possibly more than to any other speaker. It must be realised that before 1832 the government was controlled by so few people that there was little reason for public meetings, comparable with our times, when the media including radio and television have made meetings, in a sense, superfluous. Between these two dates roughly 1832 -- 1950 the role of the orator was crucial. It was before the days of pop stars and famous footballers and people would hang on to their every word, quoting them to each other after the event, and accepting their guidance up to a point, since there were few other ways of obtaining information.
For John Bright it was over the Crimean war against Czarist Russia that he sacrificed his popularity. It is easy for demagogues to stir up a crowd to rioting, and in Manchester an effigy of John Bright was burned and he lost the next election. His friends in Birmingham welcomed him to that city and he represented it for the next 30 years. One of those friends was Joseph Sturge, an uncle by marriage of my grandfather William Clark of Millfield at Street. He visited the Czar to urge him to free the serfs in Russia in 1860.

John Bright's daughter, Helen Priestman Bright Clark made it her work to invite speakers and arrange meetings on what might be termed ‘good causes’ in Street; and after her death when I ventured into her closet, through the mysterious door on the stairs, I found a mass of pamphlets and papers, mostly arranged in pigeon holes marked with such subjects as ‘peace’, ‘free trade’, ‘women's causes’, and ‘slavery’. Her daughters shared her interests; Aunt Hilda worked for the forerunner of Quaker Peace and Service. She helped war victims and refugees from war zones with food and medical care, as she was a doctor. She was strongly supported by her sister Aunt Alice. I recall the letters which arrived from Germany during the inflation with millions and later billions of Marks in stamps on them, welcome prizes for a small boy of eight years old, but I knew there was a terrible story behind them, so terrible I did not dare to ask questions, about the suffering of the refugees and others.
I was also aware that the very large portraits of Wilberforce, Gladstone and Bright hanging in the dining room, were in some way connected. In an alcove on the stairs was a very memorable scene moulded in clay which represented the story of the ‘underground railway’ as it was called, to help slaves escaping from a slave state in the south of the USA. Little did I guess that fifty years later my wife Ruth and I would be setting up a similar organisation in Belfast for those whose lives were in danger.
Millfield was the house which William and Helen Clark had built to be both a farm and a home. I saw it have a profound influence on those who rested there after working abroad, on the speakers who came for a night, and on us children who came on many holidays and especially for me staying for some months at the age of four to five while my parents were in South Africa.
There was only one dissonant feature and that was the crossed swords on the wall of the hall, which had been found on the site of the Battle of Sedgemoor in Somerset, the last battle to be fought on English soil (1685), some six miles away. It was after that battle that two of my ancestors gave shelter to the Duke of Monmouth, escaping for his life. They were arrested, tried by Judge Jeffreys at the 'Bloody Assizes' in Taunton, and hung for it. My mother, despite her pacifism, awe-struck with horror at what happened to

her relatives long ago passed on to me such a hatred of Jeffreys and the grim cloud of fear he left hanging in the air in Somerset, that I still use it as an example of how irrational prejudices linger from generation to generation.
When teaching about the Culture of Peace, I use this as an example of an irrational prejudice, which I should have been able to overcome long ago. If a three hundred year hatred lingers on even in a Quaker family, what hope is there for the human race?
Interestingly, one of my tutors, Professor M.V.C. Jeffreys at the Birmingham University's Education Department lectured to the MA Education Course I attended (1945-52). It was reputed that he was a direct descendant of the infamous Judge. However I thought it prudent to say nothing about this to him, despite the adage I used as guidance on many occasions, 'when in doubt, act!'
Maybe history should be excluded from the school curriculum unless it can resemble something like the South African Commission, which attempts to put right past wrongs, instead of hoping that sleeping dogs can be left to lie? One of the texts I used when dealing with prejudices was 1066 And All That: A Memorable History of England in the belief that hatred cannot withstand humour, even if the humour is black. 'Third Zulu War, Zulus exterminated, peace with the Zulus.'
Margaret Clark Gillett, my mother, ensured that her family kept in training for being different and assumed we would be unconventional. As a student at Newnham College Cambridge she had worn a dress for hockey, which showed her ankles and was known as Margaret's frills. About this time she went on a cycling and camping holiday in the Welsh border counties with her sister which at the time would also have seemed unconventional. After Cambridge she learned to weave and accompanied Emily Hobhouse and a Rowntree cousin to South Africa to teach weaving to the Boer women. Their homes and farms had been burned to check the guerrilla movement and they were enclosed in barbed wire camps with their children. Hitler called them the first concentration camps. A wool-weaving industry was established to earn some money as well as providing an occupation, which lasted fifty years. The British army did not like Emily Hobhouse's intervention,

indeed it pointed to their incompetence, but in those days war was not 'total' and she could not be prevented from following her convictions.
Out of this sprang the close friendship of my parents with Jan Smuts. He had written in his diary, which he kept in his saddlebag during the war that another John Bright was needed to make a lasting peace, not expecting that he would ever meet one of his granddaughters, my mother.
As was the custom of the time she took on no paid work, but she set us children an example by her love for books. I recall being set to work rubbing oil on her many leather-bound volumes, but she was in no way a mere collector of old books, though in literature it was the most famous authors rather than the latest whom she preferred. She was an expert in poetry being able to quote appropriately for any occasion, thus enhancing both experience and understanding. She often read to me at bedtime, one of her favourite poems being Southey's critical account of the battle of Blenheim.

But what they fought each other for
I could not well make out
But everybody said 'quoth he
That 'twas a famous victory.'

Although my mother worked with the Boers, she strongly supported better race relations. For example, my parents knew Davidson Jabavu, an African Quaker whom Nelson Mandela greatly appreciated as a teacher, and they took responsibility for his daughter Nontando when she came to school in England.
My parents had also befriended an Indian couple the Kumaramangalams, who later became well known in India as politicians and who were studying at the university in the early years of the twentieth century. In the following years they had three boys and a girl who were much the same ages as my own brothers and sister. Often they came to spend parts of their holidays with us, sometimes at Porthcothan Cove in north Cornwall, sometimes at 102 Banbury Rd. They appreciated this so much that, Paramasiva the eldest of the Kumaramangalams before joining the forces during the war, where he was to fight the Italians in northern Africa, delighted my father by naming him as 'next of kin.' My father gave

his Lombard street address in the hope of better treatment for him if taken prisoner. Their mother introduced my mother to Gandhi, at the time of the Round Table Conference and as it was one of Gandhi's silent days, they sat and communed together as in a Quaker Meeting.
As children we all felt so close to each other that we all developed a healthy form of colour blindness and could understand the five-year old who invited a friend to tea and when her mother asked her what colour she was, replied 'I don’t know, I’ll look tomorrow.' The boys went to Eton and my father recommended Badminton School for Parvathi, one of a group of internationally minded schools. Being friends with Nehru, Nehru sent his daughter, Mrs Gandhi the future Prime Minister of India, also to Badminton school.
For a period after the war Paramasiva had served as Commander in Chief of the Indian Army, it was said of him that the only orders he gave were on the polo field. Meeting after many years break we talked about our holidays together in Cornwall as children and about our parents and then we moved on to major matters. He was strongly in favour of the UNA and of the Retired Generals and Admirals Association. We then moved on to the Gulf War: 'one of my favourite books on strategy' he said 'is Sun Tzu's The Art of War , written in 500 BCE.' He went to fetch the slim volume, now worn and heavily marked for suitable quotations for speeches and he read out the following passage: 'the practical art of war, the aim is to take the enemies’ country whole and intact, to shatter and destroy it is not so profitable … supreme excellence consists in breaking the enemies resistance without fighting.' It was the very day the papers reported bombing of the air-raid shelter in Baghdad. There was no need to comment on the barbarity of modern warfare, so we discussed the role of the UN and the position of Saddam Hussein.
He soon came to the subject in which we have both been involved, namely education. For India, like many other countries, this means examinations. He had become the Chairman of a Board in Delhi as well as at home and had become so disturbed by the influence of examinations that he had written a paper on extra-curricular activities and won the Prime Minister's, Mrs Gandhi's

support for it, only to have it blocked by the Ministry of Education's officials.
Seeing my interest he fetched a quotation from Einstein's address at Albany, New York, October 15th 1936. 'Knowledge is dead, the school, however, serves the living … on the contrary the aim must be the training of independently acting and thinking individuals, who, however, see in the service of the community their highest life problem… the English school system comes nearest to the realization of this ideal.' The 'grand old man of world peace' as the encyclopaedia styles Einstein, taught in Germany, USA, and Switzerland but not in England.
By chance Paramasiva's successor as Commander in Chief joined our lunch party each day when we were in Mumbai (Bombay) as he was the brother of our hostess. Sam Manakshaw is a kindly man who said he pressed Mrs Gandhi six times to give preference to Paramasiva, especially because Paramasiva came from Tamil Nadu which is a big province in the south, and the army tends to be too biased towards the North. We were very amused to find that restaurants in the south used to be either Civil or Military according to whether they were vegetarian or not. The gentler vegetarians live in the south, the fierce meat eaters in the north, an observation, which draws attention to the heavy meat eating in Belfast.
Sam was upset at having to confront the pushing for promotion in the army on behalf of relatives, a practice, which could defeat an army more easily than an enemy can do! His anecdotes put him at the centre of any discussion. Whether Sam knew that a nuclear bomb was soon going to be exploded in India, I cannot tell. I doubt that Paramasiva, who has now died, would have supported such a rash policy.
Looking back now it seems odd that though I was closer to my father I appear to have followed my mother's ideas. They were both supporters of the League of Nations Union, the body that campaigned for stronger support of the League, and there was an influential branch office in Oxford on account of the University. Though my father ministered more often in Meeting and read to us from the Bible each morning his banking work led to a more conventional view of public affairs. He was the owner of one of the last four private banks in Britain, the Gillett's Bank in Oxford, and also later he became a director of Barclays Bank and Vice-Chairman of Barclays Dominion, Colonial, and Overseas, after selling his own bank. Despite this conventionality he was a strong proponent of ethical banking and seen by his colleagues as somewhat eccentric. By that time father was a trustee of his uncle’s Joseph Rowntree Charitable Trust so he liked to hold forth on what he called the right use of money to his wealthier clients from the Duke of Marlborough onwards. It was this kind of ethical banking he wished me to maintain. Before he sold out to Barclays he had a very positive response to the wide spread unemployment among coal miners and invested in a project for converting coal into petrol. That proved to be a false hope; when I visited the plant with him, there was already evidence of a disaster. Another one of his clients went bankrupt and he wrote an unsolicited letter offering him a loan should he ever wish to borrow. He was greatly impressed when his client set out on his bicycle to win enough prize money to repay his creditors, even though he was not obliged to do so. That was William Morris, Lord Nuffield, the founder of Morris Motors.
My father's newspaper was The Times, whilst my mother took the Manchester Guardian. The long-term influence of one's daily paper is more powerful than is generally recognised. The views of one's chosen newspaper become absorbed by an invisible process akin to osmosis. They both had very strong principles, my father’s were indicated by his banking and by serving as a Liberal Councillor on the Oxford City council, they were also indicated by his choice of bedside books such as Thomas à Kempis, The Imitation of Christ, and Marcus Aurelius, On a Sense of Duty. From such books, which often inspired his frequent Sunday ministry in the Quaker Meeting, one would never guess what a jovial person he was. As his college friend E. M. Forster wrote in his obituary, he seemed to have a private joke shared only with the Creator of the Universe.
He was eagerly awaited when he returned from the bank. The whole house and household seemed to be lifted by his jokes, his gentle teasing and the games he played with us four children. This lightness of touch is something to be remembered when negotiators are in demand and can deal with grim disputes or for training

that is designed to help them. How it can be expressed without appearing to treat the consequences of fear and hatred too lightly is the question.
My father's family included his uncle Joseph Rowntree whose remarkable work for peace through his charitable trust will be described later. My father was a trustee from the beginning because he was needed for his financial advice. J. R., as he is still called posthumously, was the founder of the well-known firm Rowntree and Co, which has now been taken over by Nestlé. He first went to work at the Rowntree Grocers Shop in Pavement in York as an apprentice, his fellow apprentices were George Cadbury, Ruth's grandfather and the founder of Cadbury's of Bournville, and my Gillett grandfather who died young of appendicitis while my father was still at school. There is unfortunately no record of the conversations of the two famous visionaries but to judge by their two model villages, they must have influenced each other. J.R. at the age of eleven had already been taken by his father to Ireland at the time of the potato famine to find out what Friends might do about it. Nowadays children experience the horrors of television news, but it is seldom put into the context of what might be done about it. The public, the journalists, and the owners of newspapers and television may all be blamed for omitting an essential part of the news in that way.
Other members of the Gillett family, as of the Clark family, included inventors, creative people who played with their thoughts, which is an inventiveness that now needs redirecting to social problems. The most famous of these inventions was a machine driven by clockwork for producing Latin Verse. It was restored to use in the fifties to take part in a ‘Britain Can Make It Exhibition’ as part of the collection of inventions, which can never have any use. It was demonstrated on radio. Unfortunately small boys no longer have to write Latin Verse for their homework, as we did! The playfulness of mind it indicates is one of the needs of the peace movement after a century of failure. Latin Verse machines may be dismissed with a smile, but the same distant relative invented a new way of waterproofing cloth and sold the idea for five pounds to a man called Mackintosh, who went on to manufacture the famous raincoat.

Over the course of two centuries there have been a variety of beliefs about the prevention of war, which have been shown to be false or inadequate. 'If all men had the vote,' it was argued, then they would demand a policy against being sent to war in distant lands. Later, this theory having proved unduly optimistic, hopes were attached to votes for women who were assumed to be more caring on behalf of their children and other victims of war than their husbands were. The Marxists genuinely believed that the profits made by arms firms were the main force for war, which would tend to overcome the rational arguments of the peacemakers. Certainly throughout the twentieth century in the USA and in Europe such firms were involved in corrupting politicians, and disturbing peace and disarmament conferences. However socialist governments turning against each other showed that the public ownership of arms factories was an inadequate aim for the peace movement. Similarly the campaigns for disarmament have gained wide approval though there is plenty of evidence that disarmament is not enough. In Africa it is obvious that machetes have been used to kill when other arms are lacking. Such theories about the causes and prevention of war must be discarded and replaced by more thorough peace research.
How far forms of government, such as constitutions, affect the tendency to go to war is not agreed. Recently a theory has been discussed that there is evidence that democracies do not fight each other as much as autocracies. This theory is confused both by a lack of definition of Democracy, and that, as war threatens, democracies tend to reduce their democratic ways.
Michael Howard, Regius Professor of History at Oxford, who deserves to be heard on this elusive but important subject, concludes that cultures contain a degree of 'bellicity,' which determines their likelihood of causing war. This term is not, as far as I know, found in the dictionary, and was coined by Howard. It denotes something different from militarism, which suggests above all soldiering, and is also different from bellicosity, which means a readiness to pick a quarrel, but is best described as a cultural trait directly opposed to a culture of peace. It may well come into use now that the decade 2000-2010 has been named The Decade of the Culture of Peace. Culture is acquired usually over several generations and this may cause dismay, on the other hand it is better to

face the truth if a lack of it leads to a nuclear war. Whether the negative concepts of bellicity or the more positive implications of a Culture of Peace are adopted, their implications may be much the same and are an invitation to probe more deeply into the causes of war . If there is such a quality, it may be developed by long-term influences such as exposure to a special climate or diet, and may only be countered in the very long-term.
None of these simple proposals for abolishing war are likely to be adequate. A more persuasive approach though daunting in its implications is shown in Appendix 1. For any peace worker or peace organisation this appendix will encourage a search to establish a list of priorities, though it may be thought to be incomplete in itself.
In addition there are those who believe that nothing short of 'a change of heart' can bring peace. Father's first cousin, but to us Uncle Henry, a medical doctor, author and Mayor of Oxford propounded this view with conviction in response to his daughter and my brothers and sister who joined the Communist Party when no governments went to the help of the democratic government of Spain under attack from Franco. Henry Gillett believed that no system of government or economic system could thrive without public-spirited and caring citizens. Such people can be developed by the patient work of religious sects, schools, colleges, and perhaps psychiatrists. As far as he himself was concerned, he saw his work in the Society of Friends in this light.
My brother Jan, the eldest in the family, had the self-assurance of a man who obtained a double first at Kings College Cambridge. His discussions, sadly, usually became argumentative so that I cannot recall him ever accepting that an opponent was right. Due to very wide reading he was well informed on an extensive range of subjects. In doing this he taught me to brief myself well and to look carefully at ways of improving methods of discussion so that they could become more educative. Tona, my second brother was also older than I was and had warm qualities, which made him a good leader. It is a pity that I found difficulty in copying him and I concluded that such qualities, though highly desirable for peace-workers, are more often innate and are seldom acquired. Helen was younger and I realise that older brothers are little influenced by younger sisters.

My siblings’ membership of the Communist Party became a barrier between us. Jan seemed to me to have become a fanatic, Tona went to prison for refusing to apologise for his part in the 'Mass Trespass' on Kinder Scout, and Helen organised a student sit-in as a protest against hip-baths (individual little bath tubs with no taps) at Newnham College Cambridge.
In general their devotion to their causes set a high standard for me to emulate. They may have known little about the virtues of democratic citizenship - concession, co-operation, and consensus - but they showed public spirit and selflessness in putting their ideals before their own interests. The slogan of the French Revolution, 'Liberty, Equality, Fraternity,' has inspired regimes to make liberty or equality their principal aim but no regime has done the same for fraternity. Such a regime would be more likely to lead to peace. It would have to apply the ideas in Small is Beautiful by reducing the size of large countries, firms, schools, and perhaps families in order to enhance personal relationships as they are described in Freedom in the Modern World . No doubt this would accord with the ‘change of heart’ prescription for one of the conditions of peace. At that time a change of heart was taken to mean becoming active in a Christian sect, accepting God's guidance developing friendly relationships with all and sundry but particularly with all those having a special need for charitable friendship.