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diff --git a/22651.txt b/22651.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..bd19823 --- /dev/null +++ b/22651.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2922 @@ +Project Gutenberg's The Unsolved Riddle of Social Justice, by Stephen Leacock + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Unsolved Riddle of Social Justice + +Author: Stephen Leacock + +Release Date: September 17, 2007 [EBook #22651] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK UNSOLVED RIDDLE *** + + + + +Produced by Suzanne Lybarger, Emille and the Booksmiths +at http://www.eBookForge.net + + + + + +THE +UNSOLVED RIDDLE +OF +SOCIAL JUSTICE + + +BY STEPHEN LEACOCK + +=B. A., Ph. D., Litt. D., F. R. S. C.= + +_Professor of Political Economy at McGill University, Montreal_ + +Author of "Essays and Literary Studies," Etc. + + + + NEW YORK: JOHN LANE COMPANY + LONDON: JOHN LANE, THE BODLEY HEAD + TORONTO: S. B. GUNDY: MCMXX + + + + + +BY STEPHEN LEACOCK + + + + + FRENZIED FICTION + FURTHER FOOLISHNESS + BEHIND THE BEYOND + NONSENSE NOVELS + LITERARY LAPSES + SUNSHINE SKETCHES + ARCADIAN ADVENTURES WITH THE IDLE RICH + ESSAYS AND LITERARY STUDIES + MOONBEAMS FROM THE LARGER LUNACY + THE HOHENZOLLERNS IN AMERICA + + + + + + +Copyright, 1920, + +By John Lane Company + + + + + + + +_CONTENTS_ + + + + + + + + + + +CHAPTER PAGE + I. The Troubled Outlook of the Present Hour 9 + II. Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness 33 + III. The Failures and Fallacies of Natural Liberty 48 + IV. Work and Wages 66 + V. The Land of Dreams: The Utopia of the Socialist 88 + VI. How Mr. Bellamy Looked Backward 103 + VII. What Is Possible and What Is Not 124 + + + + + + +THE UNSOLVED RIDDLEOF SOCIAL JUSTICE + + + + +_I.--The Troubled Outlook of the Present Hour_ + + +THESE are troubled times. As the echoes of the war die away the sound of +a new conflict rises on our ears. All the world is filled with +industrial unrest. Strike follows upon strike. A world that has known +five years of fighting has lost its taste for the honest drudgery of +work. Cincinnatus will not back to his plow, or, at the best, stands +sullenly between his plow-handles arguing for a higher wage. + +The wheels of industry are threatening to stop. The laborer will not +work because the pay is too low and the hours are too long. The producer +cannot employ him because the wage is too high, and the hours are too +short. If the high wage is paid and the short hours are granted, then +the price of the thing made, so it seems, rises higher still. Even the +high wages will not buy it. The process apparently moves in a circle +with no cessation to it. The increased wages seem only to aggravate the +increasing prices. Wages and prices, rising together, call perpetually +for more money, or at least more tokens and symbols, more paper credit +in the form of checks and deposits, with a value that is no longer based +on the rock-bottom of redemption into hard coin, but that floats upon +the mere atmosphere of expectation. + +But the sheer quantity of the inflated currency and false money forces +prices higher still. The familiar landmarks of wages, salaries and +prices are being obliterated. The "scrap of paper" with which the war +began stays with us as its legacy. It lies upon the industrial landscape +like snow, covering up, as best it may, the bare poverty of a world +desolated by war. + +Under such circumstances national finance seems turned into a delirium. +Billions are voted where once a few poor millions were thought +extravagant. The war debts of the Allied Nations, not yet fully +computed, will run from twenty-five to forty billion dollars apiece. But +the debts of the governments appear on the other side of the ledger as +the assets of the citizens. What is the meaning of it? Is it wealth or +is it poverty? The world seems filled with money and short of goods, +while even in this very scarcity a new luxury has broken out. The +capitalist rides in his ten thousand dollar motor car. The +seven-dollar-a-day artisan plays merrily on his gramophone in the broad +daylight of his afternoon that is saved, like all else, by being +"borrowed" from the morning. He calls the capitalist a "profiteer." The +capitalist retorts with calling him a "Bolshevik." + +Worse portents appear. Over the rim of the Russian horizon are seen the +fierce eyes and the unshorn face of the real and undoubted Bolshevik, +waving his red flag. Vast areas of what was a fertile populated world +are overwhelmed in chaos. Over Russia there lies a great darkness, +spreading ominously westward into Central Europe. The criminal sits +among his corpses. He feeds upon the wreck of a civilization that was. + +The infection spreads. All over the world the just claims of organized +labor are intermingled with the underground conspiracy of social +revolution. The public mind is confused. Something approaching to a +social panic appears. To some minds the demand for law and order +overwhelms all other thoughts. To others the fierce desire for social +justice obliterates all fear of a general catastrophe. They push nearer +and nearer to the brink of the abyss. The warning cry of "back" is +challenged by the eager shout of "forward!" The older methods of social +progress are abandoned as too slow. The older weapons of social defense +are thrown aside as too blunt. Parliamentary discussion is powerless. It +limps in the wake of the popular movement. The "state", as we knew it, +threatens to dissolve into labor unions, conventions, boards of +conciliation, and conferences. Society shaken to its base, hurls itself +into the industrial suicide of the general strike, refusing to feed +itself, denying its own wants. + +This is a time such as there never was before. It represents a vast +social transformation in which there is at stake, and may be lost, all +that has been gained in the slow centuries of material progress and in +which there may be achieved some part of all that has been dreamed in +the age-long passion for social justice. + +For the time being, the constituted governments of the world survive as +best they may and accomplish such things as they can, planless, or +planning at best only for the day. Sufficient, and more than sufficient, +for the day is the evil thereof. + +Never then was there a moment in which there was greater need for sane +and serious thought. It is necessary to consider from the ground up the +social organization in which we live and the means whereby it may be +altered and expanded to meet the needs of the time to come. We must do +this or perish. If we do not mend the machine, there are forces moving +in the world that will break it. The blind Samson of labor will seize +upon the pillars of society and bring them down in a common destruction. + + * * * * * + +Few persons can attain to adult life without being profoundly impressed +by the appalling inequalities of our human lot. Riches and poverty +jostle one another upon our streets. The tattered outcast dozes on his +bench while the chariot of the wealthy is drawn by. The palace is the +neighbor of the slum. We are, in modern life, so used to this that we no +longer see it. + +Inequality begins from the very cradle. Some are born into an easy and +sheltered affluence. Others are the children of mean and sordid want. +For some the long toil of life begins in the very bloom time of +childhood and ends only when the broken and exhausted body sinks into a +penurious old age. For others life is but a foolish leisure with mock +activities and mimic avocations to mask its uselessness. And as the +circumstances vary so too does the native endowment of the body and the +mind. Some born in poverty rise to wealth. An inborn energy and capacity +bid defiance to the ill-will of fate. Others sink. The careless hand +lets fall the cradle gift of wealth. + +Thus all about us is the moving and shifting spectacle of riches and +poverty, side by side, inextricable. + +The human mind, lost in a maze of inequalities that it cannot explain +and evils that it cannot, singly, remedy, must adapt itself as best it +can. An acquired indifference to the ills of others is the price at +which we live. A certain dole of sympathy, a casual mite of personal +relief is the mere drop that any one of us alone can cast into the vast +ocean of human misery. Beyond that we must harden ourselves lest we too +perish. We feed well while others starve. We make fast the doors of our +lighted houses against the indigent and the hungry. What else can we do? +If we shelter _one_ what is that? And if we try to shelter all, we are +ourselves shelterless. + +But the contrast thus presented is one that has acquired a new meaning +in the age in which we live. The poverty of earlier days was the outcome +of the insufficiency of human labor to meet the primal needs of human +kind. It is not so now. We live in an age that is at best about a +century and a half old--the age of machinery and power. Our common +reading of history has obscured this fact. Its pages are filled with the +purple gowns of kings and the scarlet trappings of the warrior. Its +record is largely that of battles and sieges, of the brave adventure of +discovery and the vexed slaughter of the nations. It has long since +dismissed as too short and simple for its pages, the short and simple +annals of the poor. And the record is right enough. Of the poor what is +there to say? They were born; they lived; they died. They followed their +leaders, and their names are forgotten. + +But written thus our history has obscured the greatest fact that ever +came into it--the colossal change that separates our little era of a +century and a half from all the preceding history of mankind--separates +it so completely that a great gulf lies between, across which comparison +can scarcely pass, and on the other side of which a new world begins. + +It has been the custom of our history to use the phrase the "new world" +to mark the discoveries of Columbus and the treasure-hunt of a Cortes or +a Pizarro. But what of that? The America that they annexed to Europe was +merely a new domain added to a world already old. The "new world" was +really found in the wonder-years of the eighteenth and early nineteenth +centuries. Mankind really entered upon it when the sudden progress of +liberated science bound the fierce energy of expanding stream and drew +the eager lightning from the cloud. + +Here began indeed, in the drab surroundings of the workshop, in the +silent mystery of the laboratory, the magic of the new age. + +But we do not commonly realize the vastness of the change. Much of our +life and much of our thought still belongs to the old world. Our +education is still largely framed on the old pattern. And our views of +poverty and social betterment, or what is possible and what is not, are +still largely conditioned by it. + +In the old world, poverty seemed, and poverty was, the natural and +inevitable lot of the greater portion of mankind. It was difficult, with +the mean appliances of the time, to wring subsistence from the reluctant +earth. For the simplest necessaries and comforts of life all, or nearly +all, must work hard. Many must perish for want of them. Poverty was +inevitable and perpetual. The poor must look to the brightness of a +future world for the consolation that they were denied in this. Seen +thus poverty became rather a blessing than a curse, or at least a +dispensation prescribing the proper lot of man. Life itself was but a +preparation and a trial--a threshing floor where, under the +"tribulation" of want, the wheat was beaten from the straw. Of this +older view much still survives, and much that is ennobling. Nor is there +any need to say goodby to it. Even if poverty were gone, the flail +could still beat hard enough upon the grain and chaff of humanity. + +But turn to consider the magnitude of the change that has come about +with the era of machinery and the indescribable increase which it has +brought to man's power over his environment. There is no need to recite +here in detail the marvelous record of mechanical progress that +constituted the "industrial revolution" of the eighteenth century. The +utilization of coal for the smelting of iron ore; the invention of +machinery that could spin and weave; the application of the undreamed +energy of steam as a motive force, the building of canals and the making +of stone roads--these proved but the beginnings. Each stage of invention +called for a further advance. The quickening of one part of the process +necessitated the "speeding up" of all the others. It placed a premium--a +reward already in sight--upon the next advance. Mechanical spinning +called forth the power loom. The increase in production called for new +means of transport. The improvement of transport still further swelled +the volume of production. The steamboat of 1809 and the steam locomotive +of 1830 were the direct result of what had gone before. Most important +of all, the movement had become a conscious one. Invention was no longer +the fortuitous result of a happy chance. Mechanical progress, the +continual increase of power and the continual surplus of product became +an essential part of the environment, and an unconscious element in the +thought and outlook of the civilized world. + +No wonder that the first aspect of the age of machinery was one of +triumph. Man had vanquished nature. The elemental forces of wind and +fire, of rushing water and driving storm before which the savage had +cowered low for shelter, these had become his servants. The forest that +had blocked his path became his field. The desert blossomed as his +garden. + +The aspect of industrial life altered. The domestic industry of the +cottage and the individual labor of the artisan gave place to the +factory with its regiment of workers and its steam-driven machinery. +The economic isolation of the single worker, of the village, even of the +district and the nation, was lost in the general cohesion in which the +whole industrial world merged into one. + +The life of the individual changed accordingly. In the old world his +little sphere was allotted to him and there he stayed. His village was +his horizon. The son of the weaver wove and the smith reared his +children to his trade. Each did his duty, or was adjured to do it, in +the "state of life to which it had pleased God to call him." Migration +to distant occupations or to foreign lands was but for the adventurous +few. The ne'er-do-well blew, like seed before the wind, to distant +places, but mankind at large stayed at home. Here and there exceptional +industry or extraordinary capacity raised the artisan to wealth and +turned the "man" into the "master." But for the most part even industry +and endowment were powerless against the inertia of custom and the +dead-weight of environment. The universal ignorance of the working class +broke down the aspiring force of genius. Mute inglorious Miltons were +buried in country churchyards. + +In the new world all this changed. The individual became but a shifting +atom in the vast complex, moving from place to place, from occupation to +occupation and from gradation to gradation of material fortune. + +The process went further and further. The machine penetrated everywhere, +thrusting aside with its gigantic arm the feeble efforts of handicraft. +It laid its hold upon agriculture, sowing and reaping the grain and +transporting it to the ends of the earth. Then as the nineteenth century +drew towards its close, even the age of steam power was made commonplace +by achievements of the era of electricity. + +All this is familiar enough. The record of the age of machinery is known +to all. But the strange mystery, the secret that lies concealed within +its organization, is realized by but few. It offers, to those who see it +aright, the most perplexing industrial paradox ever presented in the +history of mankind. With all our wealth, we are still poor. After a +century and a half of labor-saving machinery, we work about as hard as +ever. With a power over nature multiplied a hundred fold, nature still +conquers us. And more than this. There are many senses in which the +machine age seems to leave the great bulk of civilized humanity, the +working part of it, worse off instead of better. The nature of our work +has changed. No man now makes anything. He makes only a part of +something, feeding and tending a machine that moves with relentless +monotony in the routine of which both the machine and its tender are +only a fractional part. + +For the great majority of the workers, the interest of work as such is +gone. It is a task done consciously for a wage, one eye upon the clock. +The brave independence of the keeper of the little shop contrasts +favorably with the mock dignity of a floor walker in an "establishment." +The varied craftsmanship of the artisan had in it something of the +creative element that was the parent motive of sustained industry. The +dull routine of the factory hand in a cotton mill has gone. The life of +a pioneer settler in America two hundred years ago, penurious and +dangerous as it was, stands out brightly beside the dull and meaningless +toil of his descendant. + +The picture must not be drawn in colors too sinister. In the dullest +work and in the meanest lives in the new world to-day there are elements +that were lacking in the work of the old world. The universal spread of +elementary education, the universal access to the printed page, and the +universal hope of better things, if not for oneself, at least for one's +children, and even the universal restlessness that the industrialism of +to-day have brought are better things than the dull plodding passivity +of the older world. Only a false mediaevalism can paint the past in +colors superior to the present. The haze of distance that dims the +mountains with purple, shifts also the crude colors of the past into the +soft glory of retrospect. Misled by these, the sentimentalist may often +sigh for an age that in a nearer view would be seen filled with cruelty +and suffering. But even when we have made every allowance for the all +too human tendency to soften down the past, it remains true that in many +senses the processes of industry for the worker have lost in +attractiveness and power of absorption of the mind during the very +period when they have gained so enormously in effectiveness and in power +of production. + +The essential contrast lies between the vastly increased power of +production and its apparent inability to satisfy for all humanity the +most elementary human wants; between the immeasurable saving of labor +effected by machinery and the brute fact of the continuance of +hard-driven, unceasing toil. + +Of the extent of this increased power of production we can only speak in +general terms. No one, as far as I am aware, has yet essayed to measure +it. Nor have we any form of calculus or computation that can easily be +applied. If we wish to compare the gross total of production effected +to-day with that accomplished a hundred and fifty years ago, the means, +the basis of calculation, is lacking. Vast numbers of the things +produced now were not then in existence. A great part of our production +of to-day culminates not in productive goods, but in services, as in +forms of motion, or in ability to talk across a distance. + +It is true that statistics that deal with the world's production of +cotton, or of oil, or of iron and steel present stupendous results. But +even these do not go far enough. For the basic raw materials are worked +into finer and finer forms to supply new "wants" as they are called, and +to represent a vast quantity of "satisfactions" not existing before. + +Nor is the money calculus of any avail. Comparison by prices breaks down +entirely. A bushel of wheat stands about where it stood before and could +be calculated. But the computation, let us say, in price-values of the +Sunday newspapers produced in one week in New York or the annual output +of photographic apparatus, would defy comparison. Of the enormous +increase in the gross total of human goods there is no doubt. We have +only to look about us to see it. The endless miles of railways, the +vast apparatus of the factories, the soaring structures of the cities +bear easy witness to it. Yet it would be difficult indeed to compute by +what factor the effectiveness of human labor working with machinery has +been increased. + +But suppose we say, since one figure is as good as another, that it has +been increased a hundred times. This calculation must be well within the +facts and can be used as merely a more concrete way of saying that the +power of production has been vastly increased. During the period of this +increase, the numbers of mankind in the industrial countries have +perhaps been multiplied by three to one. This again is inexact, since +there are no precise figures of population that cover the period. But +all that is meant is that the increase in one case is, quite obviously, +colossal, and in the other case is evidently not very much. + +Here then is the paradox. + +If the ability to produce goods to meet human wants has multiplied so +that each man accomplishes almost thirty or forty times what he did +before, then the world at large ought to be about thirty or fifty times +better off. But it is not. Or else, as the other possible alternative, +the working hours of the world should have been cut down to about one in +thirty of what they were before. But they are not. How, then, are we to +explain this extraordinary discrepancy between human power and resulting +human happiness? + +The more we look at our mechanism of production the more perplexing it +seems. Suppose an observer were to look down from the cold distance of +the moon upon the seething ant-hill of human labor presented on the +surface of our globe; and suppose that such an observer knew nothing of +our system of individual property, of money payments and wages and +contracts, but viewed our labor as merely that of a mass of animated +beings trying to supply their wants. The spectacle to his eyes would be +strange indeed. Mankind viewed in the mass would be seen to produce a +certain amount of absolutely necessary things, such as food, and then to +stop. In spite of the fact that there was not food enough to go round, +and that large numbers must die of starvation or perish slowly from +under-nutrition, the production of food would stop at some point a good +deal short of universal satisfaction. So, too, with the production of +clothing, shelter and other necessary things; never enough would seem to +be produced, and this apparently not by accident or miscalculation, but +as if some peculiar social law were at work adjusting production to the +point where there is just not enough, and leaving it there. The +countless millions of workers would be seen to turn their untired +energies and their all-powerful machinery away from the production of +necessary things to the making of mere comforts; and from these, again, +while still stopping short of a general satisfaction, to the making of +luxuries and superfluities. The wheels would never stop. The activity +would never tire. Mankind, mad with the energy of activity, would be +seen to pursue the fleeing phantom of insatiable desire. Thus among the +huge mass of accumulated commodities the simplest wants would go +unsatisfied. Half-fed men would dig for diamonds, and men sheltered by +a crazy roof erect the marble walls of palaces. The observer might well +remain perplexed at the pathetic discord between human work and human +wants. Something, he would feel assured, must be at fault either with +the social instincts of man or with the social order under which he +lives. + +And herein lies the supreme problem that faces us in this opening +century. The period of five years of war has shown it to us in a clearer +light than fifty years of peace. War is destruction--the annihilation of +human life, the destruction of things made with generations of labor, +the misdirection of productive power from making what is useful to +making what is useless. In the great war just over, some seven million +lives were sacrificed; eight million tons of shipping were sunk beneath +the sea; some fifty million adult males were drawn from productive labor +to the lines of battle; behind them uncounted millions labored day and +night at making the weapons of destruction. One might well have thought +that such a gigantic misdirection of human energy would have brought +the industrial world to a standstill within a year. So people did think. +So thought a great number, perhaps the greater number, of the financiers +and economists and industrial leaders trained in the world in which we +used to live. The expectation was unfounded. Great as is the destruction +of war, not even five years of it have broken the productive machine. +And the reason is now plain enough. Peace, also--or peace under the old +conditions of industry--is infinitely wasteful of human energy. Not more +than one adult worker in ten--so at least it might with confidence be +estimated--is employed on necessary things. The other nine perform +superfluous services. War turns them from making the glittering +superfluities of peace to making its grim engines of destruction. But +while the tenth man still labors, the machine, though creaking with its +dislocation, can still go on. The economics of war, therefore, has +thrown its lurid light upon the economics of peace. + +These I propose in the succeeding chapters to examine. But it might be +well before doing so to lay stress upon the fact that while admitting +all the shortcomings and the injustices of the regime under which we +have lived, I am not one of those who are able to see a short and single +remedy. Many people when presented with the argument above, would settle +it at once with the word "socialism." Here, they say, is the immediate +and natural remedy. I confess at the outset, and shall develop later, +that I cannot view it so. Socialism is a mere beautiful dream, possible +only for the angels. The attempt to establish it would hurl us over the +abyss. Our present lot is sad, but the frying pan is at least better +than the fire. + + + + +_II.--Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness_ + + +"ALL men," wrote Thomas Jefferson in framing the Declaration of +Independence, "have an inalienable right to life, liberty and the +pursuit of happiness." The words are more than a felicitous phrase. They +express even more than the creed of a nation. They embody in themselves +the uppermost thought of the era that was dawning when they were +written. They stand for the same view of society which, in that very +year of 1776, Adam Smith put before the world in his immortal "Wealth of +Nations" as the "System of Natural Liberty." In this system mankind +placed its hopes for over half a century and under it the industrial +civilization of the age of machinery rose to the plenitude of its +power. + +In the preceding chapter an examination has been made of the purely +mechanical side of the era of machine production. It has been shown that +the age of machinery has been in a certain sense one of triumph, of the +triumphant conquest of nature, but in another sense one of perplexing +failure. The new forces controlled by mankind have been powerless as yet +to remove want and destitution, hard work and social discontent. In the +midst of accumulated wealth social justice seems as far away as ever. + +It remains now to discuss the intellectual development of the modern age +of machinery and the way in which it has moulded the thoughts and the +outlook of mankind. + +Few men think for themselves. The thoughts of most of us are little more +than imitations and adaptations of the ideas of stronger minds. The +influence of environment conditions, if it does not control, the mind of +man. So it comes about that every age or generation has its dominant and +uppermost thoughts, its peculiar way of looking at things and its +peculiar basis of opinion on which its collective action and its social +regulations rest. All this is largely unconscious. The average citizen +of three generations ago was probably not aware that he was an extreme +individualist. The average citizen of to-day is not conscious of the +fact that he has ceased to be one. The man of three generations ago had +certain ideas which he held to be axiomatic, such as that his house was +his castle, and that property was property and that what was his was +his. But these were to him things so obvious that he could not conceive +any reasonable person doubting them. So, too, with the man of to-day. He +has come to believe in such things as old age pensions and national +insurance. He submits to bachelor taxes and he pays for the education of +other people's children; he speculates much on the limits of +inheritance, and he even meditates profound alterations in the right of +property in land. His house is no longer his castle. He has taken down +its fences, and "boulevarded" its grounds till it merges into those of +his neighbors. Indeed he probably does not live in a house at all, but +in a mere "apartment" or subdivision of a house which he shares with a +multiplicity of people. Nor does he any longer draw water from his own +well or go to bed by the light of his own candle: for such services as +these his life is so mixed up with "franchises" and "public utilities" +and other things unheard of by his own great-grandfather, that it is +hopelessly intertangled with that of his fellow citizens. In fine, there +is little left but his own conscience into which he can withdraw. + +Such a man is well aware that times have changed since his +great-grandfather's day. But he is not aware of the profound extent to +which his own opinions have been affected by the changing times. He is +no longer an individualist. He has become by brute force of +circumstances a sort of collectivist, puzzled only as to how much of a +collectivist to be. + +Individualism of the extreme type is, therefore, long since out of date. +To attack it is merely to kick a dead dog. But the essential problem of +to-day is to know how far we are to depart from its principles. There +are those who tell us--and they number many millions--that we must +abandon them entirely. Industrial society, they say, must be reorganized +from top to bottom; private industry must cease. All must work for the +state; only in a socialist commonwealth can social justice be found. +There are others, of whom the present writer is one, who see in such a +programme nothing but disaster: yet who consider that the individualist +principle of "every man for himself" while it makes for national wealth +and accumulated power, favors overmuch the few at the expense of the +many, puts an over-great premium upon capacity, assigns too harsh a +punishment for easy indolence, and, what is worse, exposes the +individual human being too cruelly to the mere accidents of birth and +fortune. Under such a system, in short, to those who have is given and +from those who have not is taken away even that which they have. There +are others again who still view individualism just as the vast majority +of our great-grandfathers viewed it, as a system hard but just: as +awarding to every man the fruit of his own labor and the punishment of +his own idleness, and as visiting, in accordance with the stern but +necessary ordination of our existence, the sins of the father upon the +child. + +The proper starting point, then, for all discussion of the social +problem is the consideration of the individualist theory of industrial +society. This grew up, as all the world knows, along with the era of +machinery itself. It had its counterpart on the political side in the +rise of representative democratic government. Machinery, industrial +liberty, political democracy--these three things represent the basis of +the progress of the nineteenth century. + +The chief exposition of the system is found in the work of the classical +economists--Adam Smith and his followers of half a century--who created +the modern science of political economy. Beginning as controversialists +anxious to overset a particular system of trade regulation, they ended +by becoming the exponents of a new social order. Modified and amended as +their system is in its practical application, it still largely +conditions our outlook to-day. It is to this system that we must turn. + +The general outline of the classical theory of political economy is so +clear and so simple that it can be presented within the briefest +compass. It began with certain postulates, or assumptions, to a great +extent unconscious, of the conditions to which it applied. It assumed +the existence of the state and of contract. It took for granted the +existence of individual property, in consumption goods, in capital +goods, and, with a certain hesitation, in land. The last assumption was +not perhaps without misgivings: Adam Smith was disposed to look askance +at landlords as men who gathered where they had not sown. John Stuart +Mill, as is well known, was more and more inclined, with advancing +reflection, to question the sanctity of landed property as the basis of +social institutions. But for the most part property, contract and the +coercive state were fundamental assumptions with the classicists. + +With this there went, on the psychological side, the further assumption +of a general selfishness or self-seeking as the principal motive of the +individual in the economic sphere. Oddly enough this assumption--the +most warrantable of the lot--was the earliest to fall under disrepute. +The plain assertion that every man looks out for himself (or at best for +himself and his immediate family) touches the tender conscience of +humanity. It is an unpalatable truth. None the less it is the most +nearly true of all the broad generalizations that can be attempted in +regard to mankind. + +The essential problem then of the classicists was to ask what would +happen if an industrial community, possessed of the modern control over +machinery and power, were allowed to follow the promptings of +"enlightened selfishness" in an environment based upon free contract and +the right of property in land and goods. The answer was of the most +cheering description. The result would be a progressive amelioration of +society, increasing in proportion to the completeness with which the +fundamental principles involved were allowed to act, and tending +ultimately towards something like a social millennium or perfection of +human society. One easily recalls the almost reverent attitude of Adam +Smith towards this system of industrial liberty which he exalted into a +kind of natural theology: and the way in which Mill, a deist but not a +Christian, was able to fit the whole apparatus of individual liberty +into its place in an ordered universe. The world "runs of itself," said +the economist. We have only to leave it alone. And the maxim of _laissez +faire_ became the last word of social wisdom. + +The argument of the classicists ran thus. If there is everywhere +complete economic freedom, then there will ensue in consequence a regime +of social justice. If every man is allowed to buy and sell goods, labor +and property, just as suits his own interest, then the prices and wages +that result are either in the exact measure of social justice or, at +least, are perpetually moving towards it. The price of any commodity at +any moment is, it is true, a "market price," the resultant of the demand +and the supply; but behind this operates continually the inexorable law +of the cost of production. Sooner or later every price must represent +the actual cost of producing the commodity concerned, or, at least, must +oscillate now above and now below that point which it is always +endeavoring to meet. For if temporary circumstances force the price well +above the cost of producing the article in question, then the large +profits to be made induce a greater and greater production. The +increased volume of the supply thus produced inevitably forces down the +price till it sinks to the point of cost. If circumstances (such, for +example, as miscalculation and an over-great supply) depress the price +below the point of cost, then the discouragement of further production +presently shortens the supply and brings the price up again. Price is +thus like an oscillating pendulum seeking its point of rest, or like the +waves of the sea rising and falling about its level. By this same +mechanism the quantity and direction of production, argued the +economists, respond automatically to the needs of humanity, or, at +least, to the "effective demand," which the classicist mistook for the +same thing. Just as much wheat or bricks or diamonds would be produced +as the world called for; to produce too much of any one thing was to +violate a natural law; the falling price and the resulting temporary +loss sternly rebuked the producer. + +In the same way the technical form and mechanism of production were +presumed to respond to an automatic stimulus. Inventions and improved +processes met their own reward. Labor, so it was argued, was perpetually +being saved by the constant introduction of new uses of machinery. + +By a parity of reasoning, the shares received by all the participants +and claimants in the general process of production were seen to be +regulated in accordance with natural law. Interest on capital was +treated merely as a particular case under the general theory of price. +It was the purchase price needed to call forth the "saving" (a form, so +to speak, of production) which brought the capital into the market. The +"profits" of the employer represented the necessary price paid by +society for his services, just enough and not more than enough to keep +him and his fellows in operative activity, and always tending under the +happy operation of competition to fall to the minimum consistent with +social progress. + +Rent, the share of the land-owner, offered to the classicist a rather +peculiar case. There was here a physical basis of surplus over cost. +But, granted the operation of the factors and forces concerned, rent +emerged as a differential payment to the fortunate owner of the soil. It +did not in any way affect prices or wages, which were rendered neither +greater nor less thereby. The full implication of the rent doctrine and +its relation to social justice remained obscured to the eye of the +classical economist; the fixed conviction that what a man owns is his +own created a mist through which the light could not pass. + +Wages, finally, were but a further case of value. There was a demand for +labor, represented by the capital waiting to remunerate it, and a supply +of labor represented by the existing and increasing working class. +Hence wages, like all other shares and factors, corresponded, so it was +argued, to social justice. Whether wages were high or low, whether hours +were long or short, at least the laborer like everybody else "got what +was coming to him." All possibility of a general increase of wages +depended on the relation of available capital to the numbers of the +working men. + +Thus the system as applied to society at large could be summed up in the +consoling doctrine that every man got what he was worth, and was worth +what he got; that industry and energy brought their own reward; that +national wealth and individual welfare were one and the same; that all +that was needed for social progress was hard work, more machinery, more +saving of labor and a prudent limitation of the numbers of the +population. + +The application of such a system to legislation and public policy was +obvious. It carried with it the principle of _laissez-faire_. The +doctrine of international free trade, albeit the most conspicuous of its +applications, was but one case under the general law. It taught that +the mere organization of labor was powerless to raise wages; that +strikes were of no avail, or could at best put a shilling into the +pocket of one artisan by taking it out of that of another; that wages +and prices could not be regulated by law; that poverty was to a large +extent a biological phenomenon representing the fierce struggle of +germinating life against the environment that throttles part of it. The +poor were like the fringe of grass that fades or dies where it meets the +sand of the desert. There could be no social remedy for poverty except +the almost impossible remedy of the limitation of life itself. Failing +this the economist could wash his hands of the poor. + +These are the days of relative judgments and the classical economy, like +all else, must be viewed in the light of time and circumstance. With all +its fallacies, or rather its shortcomings, it served a magnificent +purpose. It opened a road never before trodden from social slavery +towards social freedom, from the mediaeval autocratic regime of fixed +caste and hereditary status towards a regime of equal social justice. +In this sense the classical economy was but the fruition, or rather +represented the final consciousness of a process that had been going on +for centuries, since the breakdown of feudalism and the emancipation of +the serf. True, the goal has not been reached. The vision of the +universal happiness seen by the economists has proved a mirage. The end +of the road is not in sight. But it cannot be doubted that in the long +pilgrimage of mankind towards social betterment the economists guided us +in the right turning. If we turn again in a new direction, it will at +any rate not be in the direction of a return to autocratic mediaevalism. + +But when all is said in favor of its historic usefulness, the failures +and the fallacies of natural liberty have now become so manifest that +the system is destined in the coming era to be revised from top to +bottom. It is to these failures and fallacies that attention will be +drawn in the next chapter. + + + + +_III.--The Failures and Fallacies of Natural Liberty_ + + +THE rewards and punishments of the economic world are singularly +unequal. One man earns as much in a week or even in a day as another +does in a year. This man by hard, manual labor makes only enough to pay +for humble shelter and plain food. This other by what seems a congenial +activity, fascinating as a game of chess, acquires uncounted millions. A +third stands idle in the market place asking in vain for work. A fourth +lives upon rent, dozing in his chair, and neither toils nor spins. A +fifth by the sheer hazard of a lucky "deal" acquires a fortune without +work at all. A sixth, scorning to work, earns nothing and gets nothing; +in him survives a primitive dislike of labor not yet fully "evoluted +out;" he slips through the meshes of civilization to become a "tramp," +cadges his food where he can, suns his tattered rags when it is warm and +shivers when it is cold, migrating with the birds and reappearing with +the flowers of spring. + +Yet all are free. This is the distinguishing mark of them as children of +our era. They may work or stop. There is no compulsion from without. No +man is a slave. Each has his "natural liberty," and each in his degree, +great or small, receives his allotted reward. + +But is the allotment correct and the reward proportioned by his efforts? +Is it fair or unfair, and does it stand for the true measure of social +justice? + +This is the profound problem of the twentieth century. + +The economists and the leading thinkers of the nineteenth century were +in no doubt about this question. It was their firm conviction that the +system under which we live was, in its broad outline, a system of even +justice. They held it true that every man under free competition and +individual liberty is awarded just what he is worth and is worth +exactly what he gets: that the reason why a plain laborer is paid only +two or three dollars a day is because he only "produces" two or three +dollars a day: and that why a skilled engineer is paid ten times as much +is because he "produces" ten times as much. His work is "worth" ten +times that of the plain laborer. By the same reasoning the salary of a +corporation president who receives fifty thousand dollars a year merely +reflects the fact that the man produces--earns--brings in to the +corporation that amount or even more. The big salary corresponds to the +big efficiency. + +And there is much in the common experience of life and the common +conduct of business that seems to support this view. It is undoubtedly +true if we look at any little portion of business activity taken as a +fragment by itself. On the most purely selfish grounds I may find that +it "pays" to hire an expert at a hundred dollars a day, and might find +that it spelled ruin to attempt to raise the wages of my workingmen +beyond four dollars a day. Everybody knows that in any particular +business at any particular place and time with prices at any particular +point, there is a wage that can be paid and a wage that can not. And +everybody, or nearly everybody, bases on these obvious facts a series of +entirely erroneous conclusions. Because we cannot change the part we are +apt to think we cannot change the whole. Because one brick in the wall +is immovable, we forget that the wall itself might be rebuilt. + +The single employer rightly knows that there is a wage higher than he +can pay and hours shorter than he can grant. But are the limits that +frame him in, real and necessary limits, resulting from the very nature +of things, or are they mere products of particular circumstances? This, +as a piece of pure economics, does not interest the individual employer +a particle. It belongs in the same category as the question of the +immortality of the soul and other profundities that have nothing to do +with business. But to society at large the question is of an infinite +importance. + +Now the older economists taught, and the educated world for about a +century believed, that these limitations which hedged the particular +employer about were fixed and assigned by natural economic law. They +represented, as has been explained, the operation of the system of +natural liberty by which every man got what he is worth. And it is quite +true that the particular employer can no more break away from these +limits than he can jump out of his own skin. He can only violate them at +the expense of ceasing to be an economic being at all and degenerating +into a philanthropist. + +But consider for a moment the peculiar nature of the limitations +themselves. Every man's limit of what he can pay and what he can take, +of how much he can offer and how much he will receive, is based on the +similar limitations of other people. They are reciprocal to one another. +Why should one factory owner not pay ten dollars a day to his hands? +Because the others don't. But suppose they all do? Then the output could +not be sold at the present price. But why not sell the produce at a +higher price? Because at a higher price the consumer can't afford to buy +it. But suppose that the consumer, for the things which he himself +makes and sells, or for the work which he performs, receives more? What +then? The whole thing begins to have a jigsaw look, like a child's toy +rack with wooden soldiers on it, expanding and contracting. One searches +in vain for the basis on which the relationship rests. And at the end of +the analysis one finds nothing but a mere anarchical play of forces, +nothing but a give-and-take resting on relative bargaining strength. +Every man gets what he can and gives what he has to. + +Observe that this is not in the slightest the conclusion of the orthodox +economists. Every man, they said, gets what he actually makes, or, by +exchange, those things which exactly correspond to it as regards the +cost of making them--which have, to use the key-word of the theory, the +same value. Let us take a very simple example. If I go fishing with a +net which I have myself constructed out of fibers and sticks, and if I +catch a fish and if I then roast the fish over a fire which I have made +without so much as the intervention of a lucifer match, then it is I +and I alone who have "produced" the roast fish. That is plain enough. +But what if I catch the fish by using a hired boat and a hired net, or +by buying worms as bait from some one who has dug them? Or what if I do +not fish at all, but get my roast fish by paying for it a part of the +wages I receive for working in a saw mill? Here are a new set of +relationships. How much of the fish is "produced" by each of the people +concerned? And what part of my wages ought I to pay in return for the +part of the fish that I buy? + +Here opens up, very evidently, a perfect labyrinth of complexity. But it +was the labyrinth for which the earlier economist held, so he thought, +the thread. No matter how dark the passage, he still clung tight to it. +And his thread was his "fundamental equation of value" whereby each +thing and everything is sold (or tends to be sold) under free +competition for exactly its cost of production. There it was; as simple +as A. B. C.; making the cost of everything proportional to the cost of +everything else, and in itself natural and just; explaining and +justifying the variations of wages and salaries on what seems a stern +basis of fact. Here is your selling price as a starting point. Given +that, you can see at once the reason for the wages paid and the full +measure of the payment. To pay more is impossible. To pay less is to +invite a competition that will force the payment of more. Or take, if +you like, the wages as the starting point: there you are +again,--simplicity itself: the selling price will exactly and nicely +correspond to cost. True, a part of the cost concerned will be +represented not by wages, but by cost of materials; but these, on +analysis, dissolve into past wages. Hence the whole process and its +explanation revolves around this simple fundamental equation that +selling value equals the cost of production. + +This was the central part of the economic structure. It was the keystone +of the arch. If it holds, all holds. Knock it out and the whole edifice +falls into fragments. + +A technical student of the schools would digress here, to the great +confusion of the reader, into a discussion of the controversy in the +economic cloister between the rival schools of economists as to whether +cost governs value or value governs cost. The point needs no discussion +here, but just such fleeting passing mention as may indicate that the +writer is well and wearily conversant with it. + +The fundamental equation of the economist, then, is that the value of +everything is proportionate to its cost. It requires no little hardihood +to say that this proposition is a fallacy. It lays one open at once, +most illogically, to the charge of being a socialist. In sober truth it +might as well lay one open to the charge of being an ornithologist. I +will not, therefore, say that the proposition that the value of +everything equals the cost of production is false. I will say that it is +_true_; in fact, that is just as true as that two and two make four: +exactly as true as that, but let it be noted most profoundly, _only as +true as that_. In other words, it is a truism, mere equation in terms, +telling nothing whatever. When I say that two and two make four I find, +after deep thought, that I have really said _nothing_, or nothing that +was not already said at the moment I defined two and defined four. The +new statement that two and two make four adds nothing. So with the +majestic equation of the cost of production. It means, as far as social +application goes, as far as any moral significance or bearing on social +reform and the social outlook goes, _absolutely nothing_. It is not in +itself fallacious; how could it be? But all the social inferences drawn +from it are absolute, complete and malicious fallacies. + +Any socialist who says this, is quite right. Where he goes wrong is when +he tries to build up as truth a set of inferences more fallacious and +more malicious still. + +But the central economic doctrine of cost can not be shaken by mere +denunciation. Let us examine it and see what is the matter with it. We +restate the equation. + +_Under perfectly free competition the value or selling price of +everything equals, or is perpetually tending to equal, the cost of its +production._ This is the proposition itself, and the inferences derived +from it are that there is a "natural price" of everything, and that all +"natural prices" are proportionate to cost and to one another; that all +wages, apart from temporary fluctuations, are derived from, and limited +by, the natural prices paid for the things made: that all payments for +the use of capital (interest) are similarly derived and similarly +limited; and that consequently the whole economic arrangement, by giving +to each person exactly and precisely the fruit of his own labor, +conforms exactly to social justice. + +Now the trouble with the main proposition just quoted is that each side +of the equation is used as the measure of the other. In order to show +what natural price is, we add up all the wages that have been paid, and +declare that to be the cost and then say that the cost governs the +price. Then if we are asked why are wages what they are, we turn the +argument backward and say that since the selling price is so and so the +wages that can be paid out of it only amount to such and such. This +explains nothing. It is a mere argument in a circle. It is as if one +tried to explain why one blade of a pair of scissors is four inches long +by saying that it has to be the same length as the other. This is quite +true of either blade if one takes the length of the other for granted, +but as applied to the explanation of the length of the scissors it is +worse than meaningless. + +This reasoning may seem to many persons mere casuistry, mere sophistical +juggling with words. After all, they say, there is such a thing as +relative cost, relative difficulty of making things, a difference which +rests upon a physical basis. To make one thing requires a lot of labor +and trouble and much skill: to make another thing requires very little +labor and no skill out of the common. Here then is your basis of value, +obvious and beyond argument. A primitive savage makes a bow and arrow in +a day: it takes him a fortnight to make a bark canoe. On that fact rests +the exchange value between the two. The relative quantity of labor +embodied in each object is the basis of its value. + +This line of reasoning has a very convincing sound. It appears in +nearly every book on economic theory from Adam Smith and Ricardo till +to-day. "Labor alone," wrote Smith, "never varying in its own value is +above the ultimate and real standard by which the value of all +commodities can at all times and places be estimated and compared." + +But the idea that _quantity of labor governs_ value will not stand +examination for a moment. What is _quantity_ of labor and how is it +measured? As long as we draw our illustrations from primitive life where +one man's work is much the same as another's and where all operations +are simple, we seem easily able to measure and compare. One day is the +same as another and one man about as capable as his fellow. But in the +complexity of modern industrial life such a calculation no longer +applies: the differences of skill, of native ingenuity, and technical +preparation become enormous. The hour's work of a common laborer is not +the same thing as the hour's work of a watchmaker mending a watch, or of +an engineer directing the building of a bridge, or of an architect +drawing a plan. There is no way of reducing these hours to a common +basis. We may think, if we like, that the quantity of labor _ought_ to +be the basis of value and exchange. Such is always the dream of the +socialist. But on a closer view it is shattered like any other dream. +For we have, alas, no means of finding out what the quantity of labor is +and how it can be measured. We cannot measure it in terms of time. We +have no calculus for comparing relative amounts of skill and energy. We +can not measure it by the amount of its contribution to the product, for +that is the very matter that we want to discover. + +What the economist does is to slip out of the difficulty altogether by +begging the whole question. He deliberately measures the quantity of +labor _by what is paid for it_. Skilled labor is worth, let us say, +three times as much as common labor; and brain work, speaking broadly, +is worth several times as much again. Hence by adding up all the wages +and salaries paid we get something that seems to indicate the total +quantity of labor, measured not simply in time, but with an allowance +for skill and technical competency. By describing this allowance as a +coefficient we can give our statement a false air of mathematical +certainty and so muddle up the essential question that the truth is lost +from sight like a pea under a thimble. Now you see it and now you don't. +The thing is, in fact, a mere piece of intellectual conjuring. The +conjurer has slipped the phrase, "quantity of labor," up his sleeve, and +when it reappears it has turned into "the expense of hiring labor." This +is a quite different thing. But as both conceptions are related somehow +to the idea of cost, the substitution is never discovered. + +On this false basis a vast structure is erected. All prices, provided +that competition is free, are made to appear as the necessary result of +natural forces. They are "natural" or "normal" prices. All wages are +explained, and low wages are exonerated, on what seems to be an +undeniable ground of fact. They are what they are. You may wish them +otherwise, but they are not. As a philanthropist, you may feel sorry +that a humble laborer should work through a long day to receive two +dollars, but as an economist you console yourself with the reflection +that that is all he produces. You may at times, as a sentimentalist, +wonder whether the vast sums drawn as interest on capital are consistent +with social fairness; but if it is shown that interest is simply the +"natural price" of capital representing the actual "productive power" of +the capital, there is nothing further to say. You may have similar +qualms over rent and the rightness and wrongness of it. The enormous +"unearned increment" that accrues for the fortunate owner of land who +toils not neither spins to obtain it, may seem difficult of +justification. But after all, land is only one particular case of +ownership under the one and the same system. The rent for which the +owner can lease it, emerges simply as a consequence of the existing +state of wages and prices. High rent, says the economist, does not make +big prices: it merely follows as a consequence or result of them. Dear +bread is not caused by the high rents paid by tenant farmers for the +land: the train of cause and effect runs in the contrary direction. And +the selling price of land is merely a consequence of its rental value, a +simple case of capitalization of annual return into a present sum. City +land, though it looks different from farm land, is seen in the light of +this same analysis, to earn its rent in just the same way. The high rent +of a Broadway store, says the economist, does not add a single cent to +the price of the things sold in it. It is because prices are what they +are that the rent is and can be paid. Hence on examination the same +canon of social justice that covers and explains prices, wages, and +interest applies with perfect propriety to rent. + +Or finally, to take the strongest case of all, one may, as a citizen, +feel apprehension at times at the colossal fortune of a Carnegie or a +Rockefeller. For it does seem passing strange that one human being +should control as property the mass of coin, goods, houses, factories, +land and mines, represented by a billion dollars; stranger still that at +his death he should write upon a piece of paper his commands as to what +his surviving fellow creatures are to do with it. But if it can be +shown to be true that Mr. Rockefeller "made" his fortune in the same +sense that a man makes a log house by felling trees and putting them one +upon another, then the fortune belongs to Mr. Rockefeller in the same +way as the log house belongs to the pioneer. And if the social +inferences that are drawn from the theory of natural liberty and natural +value are correct, the millionaire and the landlord, the plutocrat and +the pioneer, the wage earner and the capitalist, have each all the right +to do what he will with his own. For every man in this just world gets +what is coming to him. He gets what he is worth, and he is worth what he +gets. + +But if one knocks out the keystone of the arch in the form of a +proposition that natural value conforms to the cost of production, then +the whole edifice collapses and must be set up again, upon another plan +and on another foundation, stone by stone. + + + + +_IV.--Work and Wages_ + + +WAGES and prices, then, if the argument recited in the preceding chapter +of this series holds good, do not under free competition tend towards +social justice. It is not true that every man gets what he produces. It +is not true that enormous salaries represent enormous productive +services and that humble wages correspond to a humble contribution to +the welfare of society. Prices, wages, salaries, interest, rent and +profits do not, if left to themselves, follow the simple law of natural +justice. To think so is an idle dream, the dream of the quietist who may +slumber too long and be roused to a rude awakening or perish, perhaps, +in his sleep. His dream is not so dangerous as the contrasted dream of +the socialist, now threatening to walk abroad in his sleep, but both in +their degree are dreams and nothing more. + +The real truth is that prices and wages and all the various payments +from hand to hand in industrial society, are the outcome of a complex of +competing forces that are not based upon justice but upon "economic +strength." To elucidate this it is necessary to plunge into the jungle +of pure economic theory. The way is arduous. There are no flowers upon +the path. And out of this thicket, alas, no two people ever emerge hand +in hand in concord. Yet it is a path that must be traversed. Let us +take, then, as a beginning the very simplest case of the making of a +price. It is the one which is sometimes called in books on economics the +case of an unique monopoly. Suppose that I offer for sale the manuscript +of the Pickwick Papers, or Shakespere's skull, or, for the matter of +that, the skull of John Smith, what is the sum that I shall receive for +it? It is the utmost that any one is willing to give for it. That is all +one can say about it. There is no question here of cost or what I paid +for the article or of anything else except the amount of the +willingness to pay on the part of the highest bidder. It would be +possible, indeed, for a bidder to take the article from me by force. But +this we presume to be prevented by the law, and for this reason we +referred above not to the physical strength, but to the "economic +strength" of the parties to a bargain. By this is meant the relation +that arises out of the condition of the supply and the demand, the +willingness or eagerness, or the sheer necessity, of the buyers and the +sellers. People may offer much because the thing to be acquired is an +absolute necessity without which they perish; a drowning man would sell +all that he had for a life belt. Or they may offer much through the +sheer abundance of their other possessions. A millionaire might offer +more for a life belt as a souvenir than a drowning man could pay for it +to save his life. + +Yet out of any particular conjunction between desires on the one hand +and goods or services on the other arises a particular equation of +demand and supply, represented by a particular price. All of this, of +course, is A. B. C., and I am not aware that anybody doubts it. + +Now let us make the example a little more elaborate. Suppose that one +single person owned all the food supply of a community isolated from the +outside world. The price which he could exact would be the full measure +of all the possessions of his neighbors up to the point at least where +they would commit suicide rather than pay. True, in such a case as this, +"economic strength" would probably be broken down by the intrusion of +physical violence. But in so far as it held good the price of food would +be based upon it. + +Prices such as are indicated here were dismissed by the earlier +economist as mere economic curiosities. John Stuart Mill has something +to say about the price of a "music box in the wilds of Lake Superior," +which, as he perceived, would not be connected with the expense of +producing it, but might be vastly more or perhaps decidedly less. But +Mill might have said the same thing about the price of a music box, +provided it was properly patented, anywhere at all. For the music box +and Shakespere's skull and the corner in wheat are all merely different +kinds of examples of the things called a monopoly sale. + +Now let us change the example a little further. Suppose that the +monopolist has for sale not simply a fixed and definite quantity of a +certain article, but something which he can produce in larger quantities +as desired. At what price will he now sell? If he offers the article at +a very high price only a few people will take it: if he lowers the price +there will be more and more purchasers. His interest seems divided. He +will want to put the price as high as possible so that the profit on +each single article (over what it costs him to produce it) will be as +great as possible. But he will also want to make as many sales as he +possibly can, which will induce him to set the price low enough to bring +in new buyers. But, of course, if he puts the price so low that it only +covers the cost of making the goods his profit is all gone and the mere +multiplicity of sales is no good to him. He must try therefore to find +a point of maximum profit where, having in view both the number of sales +and the profit over cost on each sale the net profit is at its greatest. +This gives us the fundamental law of monopoly price. It is to be noted +that under modern conditions of production the cost of manufacture per +article decreases to a great extent in proportion as a larger and larger +number is produced and thus the widening of the sale lowers the +proportionate cost. In any particular case, therefore, it may turn out +that the price that suits the monopolist's own interest is quite a low +price, one such as to allow for an enormous quantity of sales and a very +low cost of manufacture. This, we say, _may_ be the case. But it is not +so of necessity. In and of itself the monopoly price corresponds to the +monopolist's profit and not to cheapness of sale. The price _may_ be set +far above the cost. + +And now notice the peculiar relation that is set up between the +monopolist's production and the satisfaction of human wants. In +proportion as the quantity produced is increased the lower must the +price be set in order to sell the whole output. If the monopolist +insisted on turning out more and more of his goods, the price that +people would give would fall until it barely covered the cost, then till +it was less than cost, then to a mere fraction of the cost and finally +to nothing at all. In other words, if one produces a large enough +quantity of anything it becomes worthless. It loses all its value just +as soon as there is enough of it to satisfy, and over-satisfy the wants +of humanity. Thus if the world produces three and a half billion bushels +of wheat it can be sold, let us say, at two dollars a bushel; but if it +produced twice as much it might well be found that it would only sell +for fifty cents a bushel. The value of the bigger supply as a total +would actually be less than that of the smaller. And if the supply were +big enough it would be worth, in the economic sense, just nothing at +all. This peculiarity is spoken of in economic theory as the paradox of +value. It is referred to in the older books either as an economic +curiosity or as a mere illustration in extreme terms of the relation of +supply to price. Thus in many books the story is related of how the East +India Companies used at times deliberately to destroy a large quantity +of tea in order that by selling a lesser amount they might reap a larger +profit than by selling a greater. + +But in reality this paradox of value is the most fundamental proposition +in economic science. Precisely here is found the key to the operation of +the economic society in which we live. The world's production is aimed +at producing "values," not in producing plenty. If by some mad access of +misdirected industry we produced enough and too much of everything, our +whole machinery of buying and selling would break down. This indeed does +happen constantly on a small scale in the familiar phenomenon of +over-production. But in the organization in which we live +over-production tends to check itself at once. If the world's machinery +threatens to produce a too great plenty of any particular thing, then it +turns itself towards producing something else of which there is not yet +enough. This is done quite unconsciously without any philanthropic +intent on the part of the individual producer and without any general +direction in the way of a social command. The machine does it of itself. +When there is _enough_ the wheels slacken and stop. This sounds at first +hearing most admirable. But let it be noted that the "_enough_" here in +question does not mean enough to satisfy human wants. In fact it means +precisely the converse. It means enough _not_ to satisfy them, and to +leave the selling price of the things made at the point of profit. + +Let it be observed also that we have hitherto been speaking as if all +things were produced under a monopoly. The objection might at once be +raised that with competitive producers the price will also keep falling +down towards cost and will not be based upon the point of maximum +profit. We shall turn to this objection in a moment. But one or two +other points must be considered before doing so. + +In the first place in following out such an argument as the present in +regard to the peculiar shortcomings of the system under which we live, +it is necessary again and again to warn the reader against a hasty +conclusion to the possibilities of altering and amending it. The +socialist reads such criticism as the above with impatient approval. +"Very well," he says, "the whole organization is wrong and works badly. +Now let us abolish it altogether and make a better one." But in doing so +he begs the whole question at issue. The point is, _can_ we make a +better one or must we be content with patching up the old one? Take an +illustration. Scientists tell us that from the point of view of optics +the human eye is a clumsy instrument poorly contrived for its work. A +certain great authority once said that if he had made it he would have +been ashamed of it. This may be true. But the eye unfortunately is all +we have to see by. If we destroy our eyes in the hope of making better +ones we may go blind. The best that we can do is to improve our sight by +adding a pair of spectacles. So it is with the organization of society. +Faulty though it is, it does the work after a certain fashion. We may +apply to it with advantage the spectacles of social reform, but what the +socialist offers us is total blindness. But of this presently. + +To return to the argument. Let us consider next what wages the +monopolist in the cases described above will have to pay. We take for +granted that he will only pay as much as he has to. How much will this +be? Clearly enough it will depend altogether on the number of available +working men capable of doing the work in question and the situation in +which they find themselves. It is again a case of relative "economic +strength." The situation may be altogether in favor of the employer or +altogether in favor of the men, or may occupy a middle ground. If the +men are so numerous that there are more of them than are needed for the +work, and if there is no other occupation for them they must accept a +starvation wage. If they are so few in number that they can _all_ be +employed, and if they are so well organized as to act together, they can +in their turn exact any wage up to the point that leaves no profit for +the employer himself at all. Indeed for a short time wages might even +pass this point, the monopolist employer being willing (for various +reasons, all quite obvious) actually to pay more as wages than he gets +as return and to carry on business at a loss for the sake of carrying it +on at all. Clearly, then, wages, as Adam Smith said, "are the result of +a dispute" in which either party must be pushed to the wall. The +employer may have to pay so much that there is nothing or practically +nothing left for himself, or so little that his workmen can just exist +and no more. These are the upward and downward limits of the wages in +the cases described. + +It is therefore obvious that if all the industries in the world were +carried on as a series of separate monopolies, there would be exactly +the kind of rivalry or competition of forces represented by the consumer +insisting on paying as little as possible, the producer charging the +most profitable price and paying the lowest wage that he could, and the +wage earner demanding the highest wage that he could get. The +equilibrium would be an unstable one. It would be constantly displaced +and shifted by the movement of all sorts of social forces--by changes of +fashion, by abundance or scarcity of crops, by alterations in the +technique of industry and by the cohesion or the slackening of the +organization of any group of workers. But the balanced forces once +displaced would be seen constantly to come to an equilibrium at a new +point. + +All this has been said of industry under monopoly. But it will be seen +to apply in its essentials to what we call competitive industry. Here +indeed certain new features come in. Not one employer but many produce +each kind of article. And, as far as each employer can see by looking at +his own horizon, what he does is merely to produce as much as he can +sell at a price that pays him. Since all the other employers are doing +this, there will be, under competition, a constant tendency to cut the +prices down to the lowest that is consistent with what the employer has +to pay as wages and interest. This point, which was called by the +orthodox economists the "cost," is not in any true and fundamental sense +of the words the "cost" at all. It is merely a limit represented by what +the other parties to the bargain are able to exact. The whole situation +is in a condition of unstable equilibrium in which the conflicting +forces represented by the interests of the various parties pull in +different directions. The employers in any one line of industry and all +their wage earners and salaried assistants have one and the same +interest as against the consumer. They want the selling price to be as +high as possible. But the employers are against one another as wanting, +each of them, to make as many sales as possible, and each and all the +employers are against the wage earners in wanting to pay as low wages as +possible. If all the employers unite, the situation turns to a monopoly, +and the price paid by the consumer is settled on the monopoly basis +already described. The employers can then dispute it out with their +working men as to how much wages shall be. If the employers are not +united, then at each and every moment they are in conflict both with +the consumer and with their wage earners. Thus the whole scene of +industry represents a vast and unending conflict, a fermentation in +which the moving bubbles crowd for space, expanding and breaking one +against the other. There is no point of rest. There is no real fixed +"cost" acting as a basis. Anything that any one person or group of +persons--worker or master, landlord or capitalist--is able to exact +owing to the existing conditions of demand or supply, becomes a "cost" +from the point of view of all the others. There is nothing in this +"cost" which proportions to it the quantity of labor, or of time, or of +skill or of any other measure physical or psychological of the effort +involved. And there is nothing whatever in it which proportions to it +social justice. It is the war of each against all. Its only mitigation +is that it is carried on under the set of rules represented by the state +and the law. + +The tendencies involved may be best illustrated by taking one or two +extreme or exaggerated examples, not meant as facts but only to make +clear the nature of social and industrial forces among which we live. + +What, for example, will be the absolute maximum to which wages in +general could be forced? Conceivably and in the purest and thinnest of +theory, they could include the whole product of the labor of society +with just such a small fraction left over for the employers, the owners +of capital and the owners of land to induce them to continue acting as +part of the machine. That is to say, if all the laborers all over the +world, to the last one, were united under a single control they could +force the other economic classes of society to something approaching a +starvation living. In practice this is nonsense. In theory it is an +excellent starting point for thought. + +And how short could the hours of the universal united workers be made? +As short as ever they liked: An hour a day: ten minutes, anything they +like; but of course with the proviso that the shorter the hours the less +the total of things produced to be divided. It is true that up to a +certain point shortening the hours of labor actually increases the +total product. A ten-hour day, speaking in general terms and leaving out +individual exceptions, is probably more productive than a day of twelve. +It may very well be that an eight-hour day will prove, presently if not +immediately, to be more productive than one of ten. But somewhere the +limit is reached and gross production falls. The supply of things in +general gets shorter. But note that this itself would not matter much, +if somehow and in some way not yet found, the shortening of the +production of goods cut out the luxuries and superfluities first. +Mankind at large might well trade leisure for luxuries. The shortening +of hours with the corresponding changes in the direction of production +is really the central problem in social reform. I propose to return to +it in the concluding chapter of these papers, but for the present it is +only noted in connection with the general scheme of industrial +relations. + +Now let us ask to what extent any particular section or part of +industrial society can succeed in forcing up wages or prices as against +the others. In pure theory they may do this almost to any extent, +provided that the thing concerned is a necessity and is without a +substitute and provided that their organization is complete and +unbreakable. If all the people concerned in producing coal, masters and +men, owners of mines and operators of machinery, could stand out for +their price, there is no limit, short of putting all the rest of the +world on starvation rations, to what they might get. In practice and in +reality a thousand things intervene--the impossibility of such complete +unity, the organization of the other parties, the existing of national +divisions among industrial society, sentiment, decency, fear. The +proposition is only "pure theory." But its use as such is to dispose of +any such idea as that there is a natural price of coal or of anything +else. + +The above is true of any article of necessity. It is true though in a +less degree of things of luxury. If all the makers of instruments of +music, masters and men, capitalists and workers, were banded together in +a tight and unbreakable union, then the other economic classes must +either face the horrors of a world without pianolas and trombones, or +hand over the price demanded. And what is true of coal and music is true +all through the whole mechanism of industry. + +Or take the supreme case of the owners of land. If all of them acted +together, with their legal rights added into one, they could order the +rest of the world either to get off it or to work at starvation wages. + +Industrial society is therefore mobile, elastic, standing at any moment +in a temporary and unstable equilibrium. But at any particular moment +the possibility of a huge and catastrophic shift such as those described +is out of the question except at the price of a general collapse. Even a +minor dislocation breaks down a certain part of the machinery of +society. Particular groups of workers are thrown out of place. There is +no other place where they can fit in, or at any rate not immediately. +The machine labors heavily. Ominous mutterings are heard. The legal +framework of the State and of obedience to the law in which industrial +society is set threatens to break asunder. The attempt at social change +threatens a social revolution in which the whole elaborate mechanism +would burst into fragments. + +In any social movement, then, change and alteration in a new direction +must be balanced against the demands of social stability. Some things +are possible and some are not; some are impossible to-day, and possible +or easy to-morrow. Others are forever out of the question. + +But this much at least ought to appear clear if the line of argument +indicated above is accepted, namely, that there is no great hope for +universal betterment of society by the mere advance of technical +industrial progress and by the unaided play of the motive of every man +for himself. + +The enormous increase in the productivity of industrial effort would +never of itself have elevated by one inch the lot of the working class. +The rise of wages in the nineteenth century and the shortening of hours +that went with it was due neither to the advance in mechanical power +nor to the advance in diligence and industriousness, nor to the advance, +if there was any, in general kindliness. It was due to the organization +of labor. Mechanical progress makes higher wages possible. It does not, +of itself, advance them by a single farthing. Labor saving machinery +does not of itself save the working world a single hour of toil: it only +shifts it from one task to another. + +Against a system of unrestrained individualism, energy, industriousness +and honesty might shatter itself in vain. The thing is merely a race in +which only one can be first no matter how great the speed of all; a +struggle in which one, and not all, can stand upon the shoulders of the +others. It is the restriction of individualism by the force of +organization and by legislation that has brought to the world whatever +social advance has been achieved by the great mass of the people. + +The present moment is in a sense the wrong time to say this. We no +longer live in an age when down-trodden laborers meet by candlelight +with the ban of the law upon their meeting. These are the days when +"labor" is triumphant, and when it ever threatens in the overweening +strength of its own power to break industrial society in pieces in the +fierce attempt to do in a day what can only be done in a generation. But +truth is truth. And any one who writes of the history of the progress of +industrial society owes it to the truth to acknowledge the vast social +achievement of organized labor in the past. + +And what of the future? + +By what means and in what stages can social progress be further +accelerated? This I propose to treat in the succeeding chapters, dealing +first with the proposals of the socialists and the revolutionaries, and +finally with the prospect for a sane, orderly and continuous social +reform. + + + + +_V.--The Land of Dreams: The Utopia of the Socialist_ + + +WHO is there that has not turned at times from the fever and fret of the +world we live in, from the spectacle of its wasted energy, its wild +frenzy of work and its bitter inequality, to the land of dreams, to the +pictured vision of the world as it might be? + +Such a vision has haunted in all ages the brooding mind of mankind; and +every age has fashioned for itself the image of a "somewhere" or +"nowhere"--a Utopia in which there should be equality and justice for +all. The vision itself is an outcome of that divine discontent which +raises man above his environment. + +Every age has had its socialism, its communism, its dream of bread and +work for all. But the dream has varied always in the likeness of the +thought of the time. In earlier days the dream was not one of social +wealth. It was rather a vision of the abnegation of riches, of humble +possessions shared in common after the manner of the unrealized ideal of +the Christian faith. It remained for the age of machinery and power to +bring forth another and a vastly more potent socialism. This was no +longer a plan whereby all might be poor together, but a proposal that +all should be rich together. The collectivist state advocated by the +socialist of to-day has scarcely anything in common with the communism +of the middle ages. + +Modern socialism is the direct outcome of the age of machine production. +It takes its first inspiration from glaring contrasts between riches and +poverty presented by the modern era, from the strange paradox that has +been described above between human power and its failure to satisfy +human want. The nineteenth century brought with it the factory and the +factory slavery of the Lancashire children, the modern city and city +slum, the plutocracy and the proletariat, and all the strange +discrepancy between wealth and want that has disfigured the material +progress of the last hundred years. The rising splendor of capitalism +concealed from the dazzled eye the melancholy spectacle of the new +industrial poverty that lay in the shadow behind it. + +The years that followed the close of the Napoleonic wars in 1815 were in +many senses years of unexampled misery. The accumulated burden of the +war lay heavy upon Europe. The rise of the new machine power had +dislocated the older system. A multitude of landless men clamored for +bread and work. Pauperism spread like a plague. Each new invention threw +thousands of hand-workers out of employment. The law still branded as +conspiracy any united attempt of workingmen to raise wages or to shorten +the hours of work. At the very moment when the coming of steam power and +the use of modern machinery were piling up industrial fortunes undreamed +of before, destitution, pauperism and unemployment seemed more +widespread and more ominous than ever. In this rank atmosphere +germinated modern socialism. The writings of Marx and Engels and Louis +Blanc were inspired by what they saw about them. + +From its very cradle socialism showed the double aspect which has +distinguished it ever since. To the minds of some it was the faith of +the insurrectionist, something to be achieved by force; "bourgeois" +society must be overthrown by force of arms; if open and fair fighting +was not possible against such great odds, it must be blown skyhigh with +gunpowder. Dynamite, by the good fortune of invention, came to the +revolutionary at the very moment when it was most wanted. To the men of +violence, socialism was the twin brother of anarchism, born at the same +time, advocating the same means and differing only as to the final end. + +But to others, socialism was from the beginning, as it is to-day, a +creed of peace. It advocated the betterment of society not by violence +but by persuasion, by peaceful argument and the recognized rule of the +majority. It is true that the earlier socialists almost to a man +included, in the first passion of their denunciation, things not +necessarily within the compass of purely economic reform. As children of +misery they cried out against all human institutions. The bond of +marriage seemed an accursed thing, the mere slavery of women. The +family--the one institution in which the better side of human nature +shines with an undimmed light--was to them but an engine of class +oppression; the Christian churches merely the parasitic servants of the +tyrannous power of a plutocratic state. The whole history of human +civilization was denounced as an unredeemed record of the spoliation of +the weak by the strong. Even the domain of the philosopher was +needlessly invaded and all forms of speculative belief were rudely +thrown aside in favor of a wooden materialism as dogmatic as any of the +creeds or theories which it proposed to replace. + +Thus seen, socialism appeared as the very antithesis of law and order, +of love and chastity, and of religion itself. It was a tainted creed. +There was blood upon its hands and bloody menace in its thoughts. It was +a thing to be stamped out, to be torn up by the roots. The very soil in +which it grew must be burned out with the flame of avenging justice. + +Such it still appears to many people to-day. The unspeakable savagery of +bolshevism has made good the wildest threats of the partisans of +violence and fulfilled the sternest warnings of the conservative. To-day +more than ever socialism is in danger of becoming a proscribed creed, +its very name under the ban of the law, its literature burned by the +hangman and a gag placed upon its mouth. + +But this is neither right nor wise. Socialism, like every other +impassioned human effort, will flourish best under martyrdom. It will +languish and perish in the dry sunlight of open discussion. + +For it must always be remembered in fairness that the creed of violence +has no necessary connection with socialism. In its essential nature +socialism is nothing but a proposal for certain kinds of economic +reform. A man has just as much right to declare himself a socialist as +he has to call himself a Seventh Day Adventist or a Prohibitionist, or a +Perpetual Motionist. It is, or should be, open to him to convert others +to his way of thinking. It is only time to restrain him when he proposes +to convert others by means of a shotgun or by dynamite, and by forcible +interference with their own rights. When he does this he ceases to be a +socialist pure and simple and becomes a criminal as well. The law can +deal with him as such. + +But with socialism itself the law, in a free country, should have no +kind of quarrel. For in the whole program of peaceful socialism there is +nothing wrong at all except one thing. Apart from this it is a high and +ennobling ideal truly fitted for a community of saints. And the one +thing that is wrong with socialism is that it won't work. That is all. +It is, as it were, a beautiful machine of which the wheels, dependent +upon some unknown and uninvented motive power, refuse to turn. The +unknown motive force in this case means a power of altruism, of +unselfishness, of willingness to labor for the good of others, such as +the human race has never known, nor is ever likely to know. But the +worst public policy to pursue in reference to such a machine is to lock +it up, to prohibit all examination of it and to allow it to become a +hidden mystery, the whispered hope of its martyred advocates. Better far +to stand it out into the open daylight, to let all who will inspect it, +and to prove even to the simplest that such a contrivance once and for +all and for ever cannot be made to run. + +Let us turn to examine the machine. + +We may omit here all discussion of the historical progress of socialism +and the stages whereby it changed from the creed of a few theorists and +revolutionists to being the accepted platform of great political +parties, counting its adherents by the million. All of this belongs +elsewhere. It suffices here to note that in the process of its rise it +has chafed away much of the superfluous growth that clung to it and has +become a purely economic doctrine. There is no longer any need to +discuss in connection with it the justification of marriage and the +family, and the rightness or wrongness of Christianity: no need to +decide whether the materialistic theory of history is true or false, +since nine socialists out of ten to-day have forgotten, or have never +heard, what the materialistic theory of history is: no need to examine +whether human history is, or is not, a mere record of class +exploitation, since the controversy has long shifted to other grounds. +The essential thing to-day is not the past, but the future. The question +is, what does the socialist have to say about the conditions under which +we live and the means that he advocates for the betterment of them? + +His case stands thus. He begins his discussion with an indictment of the +manifold weaknesses and the obvious injustices of the system under which +we live. And in this the socialist is very largely right. He shows that +under free individual competition there is a perpetual waste of energy. +Competing rivals cover the same field. Even the simplest services are +performed with an almost ludicrous waste of energy. In every modern +city the milk supply is distributed by erratic milkmen who skip from +door to door and from street to street, covering the same ground, each +leaving his cans of milk here and there in a sporadic fashion as +haphazard as a bee among the flowers. Contrast, says the socialist, the +wasted labors of the milkman with the orderly and systematic performance +of the postman, himself a little fragment of socialism. And the milkman, +they tell us, is typical of modern industrial society. Competing +railways run trains on parallel tracks, with empty cars that might be +filled and with vast executive organizations which do ten times over the +work that might be done by one. Competing stores needlessly occupy the +time of hundreds of thousands of employees in a mixture of idleness and +industry. An inconceivable quantity of human effort is spent on +advertising, mere shouting and display, as unproductive in the social +sense as the beating of a drum. Competition breaks into a dozen +inefficient parts the process that might conceivably be carried out, +with an infinite saving of effort, by a single guiding hand. + +The socialist looking thus at the world we live in sees in it nothing +but waste and selfishness and inefficiency. He looks so long that a mist +comes before his eyes. He loses sight of the supreme fact that after +all, in its own poor, clumsy fashion, the machine does work. He loses +sight of the possibility of our falling into social chaos. He sees no +longer the brink of the abyss beside which the path of progress picks +its painful way. He leaps with a shout of exultation over the cliff. + +And he lands, at least in imagination, in his ideal state, his Utopia. +Here the noise and clamor of competitive industry is stilled. We look +about us at a peaceful landscape where men and women brightly clothed +and abundantly fed and warmed, sing at their easy task. There is enough +for all and more than enough. Poverty has vanished. Want is unknown. The +children play among the flowers. The youths and maidens are at school. +There are no figures here bent with premature toil, no faces dulled and +furrowed with a life of hardship. The light of education and culture has +shone full on every face and illuminated it into all that it might be. +The cheerful hours of easy labor vary but do not destroy the pursuit of +pleasure and of recreation. Youth in such a Utopia is a very springtime +of hope: adult life a busy and cheery activity: and age itself, watching +from its shady bench beneath a spreading tree the labors of its +children, is but a gentle retrospect from which material care has passed +away. + +It is a picture beautiful as the opalescent colors of a soap bubble. It +is the vision of a garden of Eden from which the demon has been +banished. And the Demon in question is the Private Ownership of the +Means of Production. His name is less romantic than those of the wonted +demons of legend and folklore. But it is at least suitable for the +matter-of-fact age of machinery which he is supposed to haunt and on +which he casts his evil spell. Let him be once exorcised and the ills of +humanity are gone. And the exorcism, it appears, is of the simplest. +Let this demon once feel the contact of state ownership of the means of +production and his baneful influence will vanish into thin air as his +mediaeval predecessors did at the touch of a thimbleful of holy water. + +This, then, is the socialist's program. Let "the state" take over all +the means of production--all the farms, the mines, the factories, the +workshops, the ships, the railroads. Let it direct the workers towards +their task in accordance with the needs of society. Let each labor for +all in the measure of his strength and talent. Let each receive from all +in the measure of his proper needs. No work is to be wasted: nothing is +to be done twice that need only be done once. All must work and none +must be idle: but the amount of work needed under these conditions will +be so small, the hours so short, and the effort so slight, that work +itself will no longer be the grinding monotonous toil that we know +to-day, but a congenial activity pleasant in itself. + +A thousand times this picture has been presented. The visionary with +uplifted eyes, his gaze bent on the bright colors of the floating +bubble, has voiced it from a thousand platforms. The earnest youth +grinding at the academic mill has dreamed it in the pauses of his +studious labor. The impassioned pedant has written it in heavy prose +smothering its brightness in the dull web of his own thought. The +brilliant imaginative mind has woven it into romance, making its colors +brighter still with the sunlight of inspired phantasy. + +But never, I think, has the picture of socialism at work been so ably +and so dexterously presented as in a book that begins to be forgotten +now, but which some thirty years ago took the continent by storm. This +was the volume in which Mr. Edward Bellamy "looked backward" from his +supposed point of vantage in the year 2000 A. D. and saw us as we are +and as we shall be. No two plans of a socialist state are ever quite +alike. But the scheme of society outlined in "Looking Backward" may be +examined as the most attractive and the most consistent outline of a +socialist state that has, within the knowledge of the present writer, +ever been put forward. It is worth while, in the succeeding chapter to +examine it in detail. No better starting point for the criticism of +collectivist theories can be found than in a view of the basis on which +is supposed to rest the halcyon life of Mr. Bellamy's charming +commonwealth. + + + + +_VI.--How Mr. Bellamy Looked Backward_ + + +THE reading public is as wayward and as fickle as a bee among the +flowers. It will not long pause anywhere, and it easily leaves each +blossom for a better. But like the bee, while impelled by an instinct +that makes it search for sugar, it sucks in therewith its solid +sustenance. + +I am not quite certain that the bee does exactly do this; but it is just +the kind of thing that the bee is likely to do. And in any case it is +precisely the thing which the reading public does. It will not read +unless it is tempted by the sugary sweetness of the romantic interest. +It must have its hero and its heroine and its course of love that never +will run smooth. For information the reader cares nothing. If he absorbs +it, it must be by accident, and unawares. He passes over the heavy tomes +filled with valuable fact, and settles like the random bee upon the +bright flowers of contemporary romance. + +Hence if the reader is to be ensnared into absorbing something useful, +it must be hidden somehow among the flowers. A treatise on religion must +be disguised as a love story in which a young clergyman, sworn into holy +orders, falls in love with an actress. The facts of history are imparted +by a love story centering around the adventures of a hitherto unknown +son of Louis the Fourteenth. And a discussion of the relations of labor +and capital takes the form of a romance in which the daughter of a +multi-millionaire steps voluntarily out of her Fifth Avenue home to work +in a steam laundry. + +Such is the recognized method by which the great unthinking public is +taught to think. Slavery was not fully known till Mrs. Stowe wrote +"Uncle Tom's Cabin," and the slow tyranny of the law's delay was taught +to the world for ever in the pages of "Bleak House." + +So it has been with socialism. No single influence ever brought its +ideas and its propaganda so forcibly and clearly before the public mind +as Mr. Edward Bellamy's brilliant novel, "Looking Backward," published +some thirty years ago. The task was arduous. Social and economic theory +is heavy to the verge of being indigestible. There is no such thing as a +gay book on political economy for reading in a hammock. Yet Mr. Bellamy +succeeded. His book is in cold reality nothing but a series of +conversations explaining how a socialist commonwealth is supposed to +work. Yet he contrives to bring into it a hero and a heroine, and +somehow the warm beating of their hearts and the stolen glances in their +eyes breathe into the dry dust of economic argument the breath of life. +Nor was ever a better presentation made of the essential program of +socialism. + +It is worth while then, as was said in the preceding chapter, to +consider Mr. Bellamy's commonwealth as the most typical and the most +carefully constructed of all the ready-made socialisms that have been +put forward. + +The mere machinery of the story can be lightly passed over. It is +intended simply as the sugar that lures the random bee. The hero, living +in Boston in 1887, is supposed to fall asleep in a deep, underground +chamber which he has made for himself as a remedy against a harassing +insomnia. Unknown to the sleeper the house above his retreat is burned +down. He remains in a trance for a hundred and thirteen years and awakes +to find himself in the Boston of the year 2000 A. D. Kind hands remove +him from his sepulcher. He is revived. He finds himself under the care +of a certain learned and genial Dr. Leete, whose house stands on the +very site where once the sleeper lived. The beautiful daughter of Dr. +Leete looks upon the newcomer from the lost world with eyes in which, to +the mind of the sagacious reader, love is seen at once to dawn. In +reality she is the great-granddaughter of the fiancee whom the sleeper +was to have married in his former life; thus a faint suggestion of the +transmigration of souls illuminates their intercourse. Beyond that there +is no story and at the end of the book the sleeper, in another dream, +is conveniently transported back to 1887 which he can now contrast, in +horror, with the ideal world of 2000 A. D. + +And what was this world? The sleeper's first vision of it was given him +by Dr. Leete, who took him to the house top and let him see the Boston +of the future. Wide avenues replace the crowded, noisy streets. There +are no shops but only here and there among the trees great marble +buildings, the emporiums from which the goods are delivered to the +purple public. + +And the goods are delivered indeed! Dr. Leete explains it all with +intervals of grateful cigar smoking and of music and promenades with the +beautiful Edith, and meals in wonderful communistic restaurants with +romantic waiters, who feel themselves, _mirabile dictu_, quite +independent. + +And this is how the commonwealth operates. Everybody works or at least +works until the age of forty, so that it may be truly said in these +halcyon days everybody works but father. But the work of life does not +begin till education ends at the age of twenty-one. After that all the +young men and women pass for three years into the general "Industrial +Army," much as the young men used to pass into the ranks of +conscription. Afterwards each person may select any trade that he likes. +But the hours are made longer or shorter according to whether too many +or too few young people apply to come in. A gardener works for more +hours than a scavenger. Yet all occupations are equally honorable. The +wages of all the people are equal; or rather there are no wages at all, +as the workers merely receive cards, which entitle them to goods of such +and such a quantity at any of the emporiums. The cards are punched out +as the goods are used. The goods are all valued according to the amount +of time used in their making and each citizen draws out the same total +amount. But he may take it out in installments just as he likes, drawing +many things one month and few the next. He may even get goods in advance +if he has any special need. He may, within a certain time limit, save up +his cards, but it must be remembered that the one thing which no card +can buy and which no citizens can own is the "means of production." +These belong collectively to all. Land, mines, machinery, factories and +the whole mechanism of transport, these things are public property +managed by the State. Its workers in their use of them are all directed +by public authority as to what they shall make and when they shall make +it, and how much shall be made. On these terms all share alike; the +cripple receives as much as the giant; the worker of exceptional +dexterity and energy the same as his slower and less gifted fellow. + +All the management, the control--and let this be noted, for there is no +escape from it either by Mr. Bellamy or by anybody else--is exercised by +boards of officials elected by the people. All the complex organization +by which production goes on by which the workers are supervised and +shifted from trade to trade, by which their requests for a change of +work or an extension of credit are heard and judged--all of this is done +by the elected "bosses." One lays stress on this not because it is Mr. +Bellamy's plan, but because it is, and it _has to be_, the plan of +anybody who constructs a socialist commonwealth. + +Mr. Bellamy has many ingenious arrangements to meet the needs of people +who want to be singers or actors or writers,--in other words, who do not +want to work. They may sing or act as much as they like, provided that +enough other people will hand over enough of their food cards to keep +them going. But if no one wants to hear them sing or see them act they +may starve,--just as they do now. Here the author harks back +unconsciously to his nineteenth century individualism; he need not have +done so; other socialist writers would have it that one of the +everlasting boards would "sit on" every aspiring actor or author before +he was allowed to begin. But we may take it either way. It is not the +major point. There is no need to discuss the question of how to deal +with the artist under socialism. If the rest of it were all right, no +one need worry about the artist. Perhaps he would do better without +being remunerated at all. It is doubtful whether the huge commercial +premium that greets success to-day does good or harm. But let it pass. +It is immaterial to the present matter. + +One comes back to the essential question of the structure of the +commonwealth. Can such a thing, or anything conceived in its likeness, +possibly work? The answer is, and must be, absolutely and emphatically +no. + +Let anyone conversant with modern democracy as it is,--not as its +founders dreamed of it,--picture to himself the operation of a system +whereby anything and everything is controlled by elected officials, from +whom there is no escape, outside of whom is no livelihood and to whom +all men must bow! Democracy, let us grant it, is the best system of +government as yet operative in this world of sin. Beside autocratic +kingship it shines with a white light; it is obviously the portal of the +future. But we know it now too well to idealize its merits. + +A century and a half ago when the world was painfully struggling out of +the tyranny of autocratic kingship, when English liberalism was in its +cradle, when Thomas Jefferson was composing the immortal phrases of the +Declaration of Independence and unknown patriots dreamed of freedom in +France,--at such an epoch it was but natural that the principle of +popular election should be idealized as the sovereign remedy for the +political evils of mankind. It was natural and salutary that it should +be so. The force of such idealization helped to carry forward the human +race to a new milestone on the path of progress. + +But when it is proposed to entrust to the method of elective control not +a part but the whole of the fortunes of humanity, to commit to it not +merely the form of government and the necessary maintenance of law, +order and public safety, but the whole operation of the production and +distribution of the world's goods, the case is altered. The time is ripe +then for retrospect over the experience of the nineteenth century and +for a realization of what has proved in that experience the peculiar +defects of elective democracy. + +Mr. Bellamy pictures his elected managers,--as every socialist has to +do,--as a sagacious and paternal group, free from the interest of self +and the play of the baser passions and animated only by the thought of +the public good. Gravely they deliberate; wisely and justly they decide. +Their gray heads--for Bellamy prefers them old--are bowed in quiet +confabulation over the nice adjustment of the national production, over +the petition of this or that citizen. The public care sits heavily on +their breast. Their own peculiar fortune they have lightly passed by. +They do not favor their relations or their friends. They do not count +their hours of toil. They do not enumerate their gain. They work, in +short, as work the angels. + +Now let me ask in the name of sanity where are such officials to be +found? Here and there, perhaps, one sees in the world of to-day in the +stern virtue of an honorable public servant some approximation to such a +civic ideal. But how much, too, has been seen of the rule of "cliques" +and "interests" and "bosses;" of the election of genial incompetents +popular as spendthrifts; of crooked partisans warm to their friends and +bitter to their enemies; of administration by a party for a party; and +of the insidious poison of commercial greed defiling the wells of public +honesty. The unending conflict between business and politics, between +the private gain and the public good, has been for two generations the +despair of modern democracy. It turns this way and that in its vain +effort to escape corruption. It puts its faith now in representative +legislatures, and now in appointed boards and commissions; it appeals to +the vote of the whole people or it places an almost autocratic power and +a supreme responsibility in the hands of a single man. And nowhere has +the escape been found. The melancholy lesson is being learned that the +path of human progress is arduous and its forward movement slow and that +no mere form of government can aid unless it is inspired by a higher +public spirit of the individual citizen than we have yet managed to +achieve. + +And of the world of to-day, be it remembered, elective democratic +control covers only a part of the field. Under socialism it covers it +all. To-day in our haphazard world a man is his own master; often indeed +the mastership is but a pitiful thing, little more than being master of +his own failure and starvation; often indeed the dead weight of +circumstance, the accident of birth, the want of education, may so press +him down that his freedom is only a mockery. Let us grant all that. But +under socialism freedom is gone. There is nothing but the rule of the +elected boss. The worker is commanded to his task and obey he must. If +he will not, there is, there can only be, the prison and the scourge, or +to be cast out in the wilderness to starve. + +Consider what it would mean to be under a socialist state. Here for +example is a worker who is, who says he is, too ill to work. He begs +that he may be set free. The grave official, as Mr. Bellamy sees him, +looks at the worker's tongue. "My poor fellow," says he, "you are indeed +ill. Go and rest yourself under a shady tree while the others are busy +with the harvest." So speaks the ideal official dealing with the ideal +citizen in the dream life among the angels. But suppose that the worker, +being not an angel but a human being, is but a mere hulking, lazy brute +who prefers to sham sick rather than endure the tedium of toil. Or +suppose that the grave official is not an angel, but a man of hateful +heart or one with a personal spite to vent upon his victim. What then? +How could one face a regime in which the everlasting taskmaster held +control? There is nothing like it among us at the present day except +within the melancholy precincts of the penitentiary. There and there +only, the socialist system is in operation. + +Who can deny that under such a system the man with the glib tongue and +the persuasive manner, the babbling talker and the scheming organizer, +would secure all the places of power and profit, while patient merit +went to the wall? + +Or turn from the gray officials to the purple citizens of the soap +bubble commonwealth of socialism. All work, we are told, and all receive +their remuneration. We must not think of it as money-wages, but, all +said and done, an allotted share of goods, marked out upon a card, +comes pretty much to the same thing. The wages that the citizens receive +must either be equal or not equal. That at least is plain logic. Either +everybody gets exactly the same wages irrespective of capability and +diligence, or else the wages or salaries or whatever one calls them, are +graded, so that one receives much and the other little. + +Now either of these alternatives spells disaster. If the wages are +graded according to capacity, then the grading is done by the +everlasting elective officials. They can, and they will, vote themselves +and their friends or adherents into the good jobs and the high places. +The advancement of a bright and capable young man will depend, not upon +what he does, but upon what the elected bosses are pleased to do with +him; not upon the strength of his own hands, but upon the strength of +the "pull" that he has with the bosses who run the part of the industry +that he is in. Unequal wages under socialism would mean a fierce and +corrupt scramble for power, office and emolument, beside which the +utmost aberrations of Tammany Hall would seem as innocuous as a Sunday +School picnic. + +"But," objects Mr. Bellamy or any other socialist, "you forget. Please +remember that under socialism the scramble for wealth is limited; no man +can own capital, but only consumption goods. The most that any man may +acquire is merely the articles that he wants to consume, not the engines +and machinery of production itself. Hence even avarice dwindles and +dies, when its wonted food of 'capitalism' is withdrawn." + +But surely this point of view is the very converse of the teachings of +common sense. "Consumption goods" are the very things that we _do_ want. +All else is but a means to them. One admits, as per exception, the queer +acquisitiveness of the miser-millionaire, playing the game for his own +sake. Undoubtedly he exists. Undoubtedly his existence is a product of +the system, a pathological product, a kind of elephantiasis of +individualism. But speaking broadly, consumption goods, present or +future, are the end in sight of the industrial struggle. Give me the +houses and the gardens, the yachts, the motor cars and the champagne and +I do not care who owns the gravel crusher and the steam plow. And if +under a socialist commonwealth a man can vote to himself or gain by the +votes of his adherents, a vast income of consumption goods and leave to +his unhappy fellow a narrow minimum of subsistence, then the resulting +evil of inequality is worse, far worse than it could even be to-day. + +Or try, if one will, the other horn of the dilemma. That, too, one will +find as ill a resting place as an upright thistle. Let the wages,--as +with Mr. Bellamy,--all be equal. The managers then cannot vote +themselves large emoluments if they try. But what about the purple +citizens? Will they work, or will they lie round in their purple +garments and loaf? Work? Why should they work, their pay is there "fresh +and fresh"? Why should they turn up on time for their task? Why should +they not dawdle at their labor sitting upon the fence in endless +colloquy while the harvest rots upon the stalk? If among them is one +who cares to work with a fever of industry that even socialism cannot +calm, let him do it. We, his fellows, will take our time. Our pay is +there as certain and as sound as his. Not for us the eager industry and +the fond plans for the future,--for the home and competence--that +spurred on the strenuous youth of old days,--not for us the earnest +planning of the husband and wife thoughtful and anxious for the future +of their little ones. Not for us the honest penny saved for a rainy day. +Here in the dreamland of socialism there are no rainy days. It is +sunshine all the time in this lotus land of the loafer. And for the +future, let the "State" provide; for the children's welfare let the +"State" take thought; while we live it shall feed us, when we fall ill +it shall tend us and when we die it shall bury us. Meantime let us eat, +drink and be merry and work as little as we may. Let us sit among the +flowers. It is too hot to labor. Let us warm ourselves beside the public +stove. It is too cold to work. + +But what? Such conduct, you say, will not be allowed in the +commonwealth. Idleness and slovenly, careless work will be forbidden? +Ah! then you must mean that beside the worker will be the overseer with +the whip; the time-clock will mark his energy upon its dial; the machine +will register his effort; and if he will not work there is lurking for +him in the background the shadowed door of the prison. Exactly and +logically so. Socialism, in other words, is slavery. + +But here the socialist and his school interpose at once with an +objection. Under the socialist commonwealth, they say, the people will +want to work; they will have acquired a new civic spirit; they will work +eagerly and cheerfully for the sake of the public good and from their +love of the system under which they live. The loafer will be extinct. +The sponge and the parasite will have perished. Even crime itself, so +the socialist tells us, will diminish to the vanishing point, till there +is nothing of it except here and there a sort of pathological survival, +an atavism, or a "throwing back" to the forgotten sins of the +grandfathers. Here and there, some poor fellow afflicted with this +disease may break into my socialistic house and steal my pictures and my +wine. Poor chap! Deal with him very gently. He is not wicked. He is ill. + +This last argument, in a word, begs the whole question. With perfect +citizens any government is good. In a population of angels a socialistic +commonwealth would work to perfection. But until we have the angels we +must keep the commonwealth waiting. + +Nor is it necessary here to discuss the hundred and one modifications of +the socialistic plan. Each and all fail for one and the same reason. The +municipal socialist, despairing of the huge collective state, dreams of +his little town as an organic unit in which all share alike; the +syndicalist in his fancy sees his trade united into a co-operative body +in which all are equal; the gradualist, in whose mind lingers the leaven +of doubt, frames for himself a hazy vision of a prolonged preparation +for the future, of socialism achieved little by little, the citizens +being trained as it goes on till they are to reach somehow or somewhere +in cloud land the nirvana of the elimination of self; like indeed, they +are, to the horse in the ancient fable that was being trained to live +without food but died, alas, just as the experiment was succeeding. + +There is no way out. Socialism is but a dream, a bubble floating in the +air. In the light of its opalescent colors we may see many visions of +what we might be if we were better than we are, we may learn much that +is useful as to what we can be even as we are; but if we mistake the +floating bubble for the marble palaces of the city of desire, it will +lead us forward in our pursuit till we fall over the edge of the abyss +beyond which is chaos. + + + + +_VII.--What Is Possible and What Is Not_ + + +SOCIALISM, then, will not work, and neither will individualism, or at +least the older individualism that we have hitherto made the basis of +the social order. Here, therefore, stands humanity, in the middle of its +narrow path in sheer perplexity, not knowing which way to turn. On +either side is the brink of an abyss. On one hand is the yawning gulf of +social catastrophe represented by socialism. On the other, the slower, +but no less inevitable disaster that would attend the continuation in +its present form of the system under which we have lived. Either way +lies destruction; the one swift and immediate as a fall from a great +height; the other gradual, but equally dreadful, as the slow +strangulation in a morass. Somewhere between the two lies such narrow +safety as may be found. + +The Ancients were fond of the metaphor, taken from the vexed Sicilian +Seas, of Scylla and Charybdis. The twin whirlpools threatened the +affrightened mariner on either side. To avoid one he too hastily cast +the ship to destruction in the other. Such is precisely the position +that has been reached at the present crisis in the course of human +progress. When we view the shortcomings of the present individualism, +its waste of energy, its fretful overwork, its cruel inequality and the +bitter lot that it brings to the uncounted millions of the submerged, we +are inclined to cry out against it, and to listen with a ready ear to +the easy promises of the idealist. But when we turn to the contrasted +fallacies of socialism, its obvious impracticality and the dark gulf of +social chaos that yawns behind it, we are driven back shuddering to +cherish rather the ills we have than fly to others we know not of. + +Yet out of the whole discussion of the matter some few things begin to +merge into the clearness of certain day. It is clear enough on the one +hand that we can expect no sudden and complete transformation of the +world in which we live. Such a process is impossible. The industrial +system is too complex, its roots are too deeply struck and its whole +organism of too delicate a growth to permit us to tear it from the soil. +Nor is humanity itself fitted for the kind of transformation which fills +the dreams of the perfectionist. The principle of selfishness that has +been the survival instinct of existence since life first crawled from +the slime of a world in evolution, is as yet but little mitigated. In +the long process of time some higher cosmic sense may take its place. It +has not done so yet. If the kingdom of socialism were opened to-morrow, +there are but few fitted to enter. + +But on the other hand it is equally clear that the doctrine of "every +man for himself," as it used to be applied, is done with forever. The +time has gone by when a man shall starve asking in vain for work; when +the listless outcast shall draw his rags shivering about him unheeded of +his fellows; when children shall be born in hunger and bred in want and +broken in toil with never a chance in life. If nothing else will end +these things, fear will do it. The hardest capitalist that ever gripped +his property with the iron clasp of legal right relaxes his grasp a +little when he thinks of the possibilities of a social conflagration. In +this respect five years of war have taught us more than a century of +peace. It has set in a clear light new forms of social obligation. The +war brought with it conscription--not as we used to see it, as the last +horror of military tyranny, but as the crowning pride of democracy. An +inconceivable revolution in the thought of the English speaking peoples +has taken place in respect to it. The obligation of every man, according +to his age and circumstance, to take up arms for his country and, if +need be, to die for it, is henceforth the recognized basis of +progressive democracy. + +But conscription has its other side. The obligation to die must carry +with it the right to live. If every citizen owes it to society that he +must fight for it in case of need, then society owes to every citizen +the opportunity of a livelihood. "Unemployment," in the case of the +willing and able becomes henceforth a social crime. Every democratic +Government must henceforth take as the starting point of its industrial +policy, that there shall be no such thing as able bodied men and women +"out of work," looking for occupation and unable to find it. Work must +either be found or must be provided by the State itself. + +Yet it is clear that a policy of state work and state pay for all who +are otherwise unable to find occupation involves appalling difficulties. +The opportunity will loom large for the prodigal waste of money, for the +undertaking of public works of no real utility and for the subsidizing +of an army of loafers. But the difficulties, great though they are, are +not insuperable. The payment for state labor of this kind can be kept +low enough to make it the last resort rather than the ultimate ambition +of the worker. Nor need the work be useless. In new countries, +especially such as Canada and the United States and Australia, the +development of latent natural assets could absorb the labor of +generations. There are still unredeemed empires in the west. Clearly +enough a certain modicum of public honesty and integrity is essential +for such a task; more, undoubtedly, than we have hitherto been able to +enlist in the service of the commonwealth. But without it we perish. +Social betterment must depend at every stage on the force of public +spirit and public morality that inspires it. + +So much for the case of those who are able and willing to work. There +remain still the uncounted thousands who by accident or illness, age or +infirmity, are unable to maintain themselves. For these people, under +the older dispensation, there was nothing but the poorhouse, the jail or +starvation by the roadside. The narrow individualism of the nineteenth +century refused to recognize the social duty of supporting somebody +else's grandmother. Such charity began, and ended, at home. But even +with the passing of the nineteenth century an awakened sense of the +collective responsibility of society towards its weaker members began to +impress itself upon public policy. Old age pension laws and national +insurance against illness and accident were already being built into the +legislative codes of the democratic countries. The experience of the war +has enormously increased this sense of social solidarity. It is clear +now that our fortunes are not in our individual keeping. We stand or +fall as a nation. And the nation which neglects the aged and infirm, or +which leaves a family to be shipwrecked as the result of a single +accident to a breadwinner, cannot survive as against a nation in which +the welfare of each is regarded as contributory to the safety of all. +Even the purest selfishness would dictate a policy of social insurance. + +There is no need to discuss the particular way in which this policy can +best be carried out. It will vary with the circumstances of each +community. The action of the municipality, or of the state or province, +or of the central government itself may be called into play. But in one +form or another, the economic loss involved in illness and infirmity +must be shifted from the shoulders of the individual to those of +society at large. There was but little realization of this obligation in +the nineteenth century. Only in the sensational moments of famine, flood +or pestilence was a general social effort called forth. But in the +clearer view of the social bond which the war has given us we can see +that famine and pestilence are merely exaggerated forms of what is +happening every day in our midst. + +We spoke much during the war of "man power." We suddenly realized that +after all the greatness and strength of a nation is made up of the men +and women who compose it. Its money, in the narrow sense, is nothing; a +set of meaningless chips and counters piled upon a banker's table ready +to fall at a touch. Even before the war we had begun to talk eagerly and +anxiously of the conservation of national resources, of the need of +safeguarding the forests and fisheries and the mines. These are +important things. But the war has shown that the most important thing of +all is the conservation of men and women. + +The attitude of the nineteenth century upon this point was little short +of insane. The melancholy doctrine of Malthus had perverted the public +mind. Because it was difficult for a poor man to bring up a family, the +hasty conclusion was reached that a family ought not to be brought up. +But the war has entirely inverted and corrected this point of view. The +father and mother who were able to send six sturdy, native-born sons to +the conflict were regarded as benefactors of the nation. But these six +sturdy sons had been, some twenty years before, six "puling infants," +viewed with gloomy disapproval by the Malthusian bachelor. If the +strength of the nation lies in its men and women there is only one way +to increase it. Before the war it was thought that a simpler and easier +method of increase could be found in the wholesale import of Austrians, +Bulgarians and Czecho-Slovaks. The newer nations boasted proudly of +their immigration tables. The fallacy is apparent now. Those who really +count in a nation and those who govern its destinies for good or ill are +those who are born in it. + +It is difficult to over-estimate the harm that has been done to public +policy by this same Malthusian theory. It has opposed to every proposal +of social reform an obstacle that seemed insuperable,--the danger of a +rapid overincrease of population that would pauperize the community. +Population, it was said, tends always to press upon the heels of +subsistence. If the poor are pampered, they will breed fast: the time +will come when there will not be food for all and we shall perish in a +common destruction. Seen in this light, infant mortality and the cruel +wastage of disease were viewed with complacence. It was "Nature's" own +process at work. The "unfit," so called, were being winnowed out that +only the best might survive. The biological doctrine of evolution was +misinterpreted and misapplied to social policy. + +But in the organic world there is no such thing as the "fit" or the +"unfit," in any higher or moral sense. The most hideous forms of life +may "survive" and thrust aside the most beautiful. It is only by a +confusion of thought that the processes of organic nature which render +every foot of fertile ground the scene of unending conflict can be used +to explain away the death of children of the slums. The whole theory of +survival is only a statement of what is, not of what ought to be. The +moment that we introduce the operation of human volition and activity, +that, too, becomes one of the factors of "survival." The dog, the cat, +and the cow live by man's will, where the wolf and the hyena have +perished. + +But it is time that the Malthusian doctrine,--the fear of +over-population as a hindrance to social reform,--was dismissed from +consideration. It is at best but a worn-out scarecrow shaking its vain +rags in the wind. Population, it is true, increases in a geometrical +ratio. The human race, if favored by environment, can easily double +itself every twenty-five years. If it did this, the time must come, +through sheer power of multiplication, when there would not be standing +room for it on the globe. All of this is undeniable, but it is quite +wide of the mark. It is time enough to cross a bridge when we come to +it. The "standing room" problem is still removed from us by such +uncounted generations that we need give no thought to it. The physical +resources of the globe are as yet only tapped, and not exhausted. We +have done little more than scratch the surface. Because we are crowded +here and there in the ant-hills of our cities, we dream that the world +is full. Because, under our present system, we do not raise enough food +for all, we fear that the food supply is running short. All this is pure +fancy. Let any one consider in his mind's eye the enormous untouched +assets still remaining for mankind in the vast spaces filled with the +tangled forests of South America, or the exuberant fertility of +equatorial Africa or the huge plains of Canada, Australia, Southern +Siberia and the United States, as yet only thinly dotted with human +settlement. There is no need to draw up an anxious balance sheet of our +assets. There is still an uncounted plenty. And every human being born +upon the world represents a power of work that, rightly directed, more +than supplies his wants. The fact that as an infant he does not maintain +himself has nothing to do with the case. This was true even in the +Garden of Eden. + +The fundamental error of the Malthusian theory of population and poverty +is to confound the difficulties of human organization with the question +of physical production. Our existing poverty is purely a problem in the +direction and distribution of human effort. It has no connection as yet +with the question of the total available means of subsistence. Some day, +in a remote future, in which under an improved social system the numbers +of mankind might increase to the full power of the natural capacity of +multiplication, such a question might conceivably disturb the equanimity +of mankind. But it need not now. It is only one of many disasters that +must sooner or later overtake mankind. The sun, so the astronomer tells +us, is cooling down; the night is coming; an all-pervading cold will +some day chill into rigid death the last vestige of organic life. Our +poor planet will be but a silent ghost whirling on its dark path in the +starlight. This ultimate disaster is, as far as our vision goes, +inevitable. Yet no one concerns himself with it. So should it be with +the danger of the ultimate overcrowding of the globe. + +I lay stress upon this problem of the increase of population because, to +my thinking, it is in this connection that the main work and the best +hope of social reform can be found. The children of the race should be +the very blossom of its fondest hopes. Under the present order and with +the present gloomy preconceptions they have been the least of its +collective cares. Yet here--and here more than anywhere--is the point +towards which social effort and social legislation may be directed +immediately and successfully. The moment that we get away from the idea +that the child is a mere appendage of the parent, bound to share good +fortune and ill, wealth and starvation, according to the parent's lot, +the moment we regard the child as itself a member of society--clothed in +social rights--a burden for the moment but an asset for the future--we +turn over a new leaf in the book of human development, we pass a new +milestone on the upward path of progress. + +It should be recognized in the coming order of society, that every child +of the nation has the right to be clothed and fed and trained +irrespective of its parents' lot. Our feeble beginnings in the direction +of housing, sanitation, child welfare and education, should be expanded +at whatever cost into something truly national and all embracing. The +ancient grudging selfishness that would not feed other people's children +should be cast out. In the war time the wealthy bachelor and the +spinster of advancing years took it for granted that other people's +children should fight for them. The obligation must apply both ways. + +No society is properly organized until every child that is born into it +shall have an opportunity in life. Success in life and capacity to live +we cannot give. But opportunity we can. We can at least see that the +gifts that are laid in the child's cradle by nature are not obliterated +by the cruel fortune of the accident of birth: that its brain and body +are not stunted by lack of food and air and by the heavy burden of +premature toil. The playtime of childhood should be held sacred by the +nation. + +This, as I see it, should be the first and the greatest effort of social +reform. For the adult generation of to-day many things are no longer +possible. The time has passed. We are, as viewed with a comprehensive +eye, a damaged race. Few of us in mind or body are what we might be; and +millions of us, the vast majority of industrial mankind known as the +working class, are distorted beyond repair from what they might have +been. In older societies this was taken for granted: the poor and the +humble and the lowly reproduced from generation to generation, as they +grew to adult life, the starved brains and stunted outlook of their +forbears,--starved and stunted only by lack of opportunity. For nature +knows of no such differences in original capacity between the children +of the fortunate and the unfortunate. Yet on this inequality, made by +circumstance, was based the whole system of caste, the stratification +of the gentle and the simple on which society rested. In the past it may +have been necessary. It is not so now. If, with all our vast apparatus +of machinery and power, we cannot so arrange society that each child has +an opportunity in life, it would be better to break the machinery in +pieces and return to the woods from which we came. + +Put into the plainest of prose, then, we are saying that the government +of every country ought to supply work and pay for the unemployed, +maintenance for the infirm and aged, and education and opportunity for +the children. These are vast tasks. And they involve, of course, a +financial burden not dreamed of before the war. But here again the war +has taught us many things. It would have seemed inconceivable before, +that a man of great wealth should give one-half of his income to the +state. The financial burden of the war, as the full measure of it dawned +upon our minds, seemed to betoken a universal bankruptcy. But the sequel +is going to show that the finance of the war will prove to be a lesson +in the finance of peace. The new burden has come to stay. No modern +state can hope to survive unless it meets the kind of social claims on +the part of the unemployed, the destitute and the children that have +been described above. And it cannot do this unless it continues to use +the terrific engine of taxation already fashioned in the war. +Undoubtedly the progressive income tax and the tax on profits and +taxation of inheritance must be maintained to an extent never dreamed of +before. + +But the peace finance and the war finance will differ in one most +important respect. The war finance was purely destructive. From it came +national security and the triumph of right over wrong. No one would +belittle the worth of the sacrifice. But in the narrower sense of +production, of bread winning, there came nothing; or nothing except a +new power of organization, a new technical skill and a new aspiration +towards better things. But the burden of peace finance directed towards +social efforts will bring a direct return. Every cent that is spent upon +the betterment of the population will come back, sooner or later, as +two. + +But all of this deals as yet only with the field of industry and conduct +in which the state rules supreme. Governmental care of the unemployed, +the infant and the infirm, sounds like a chapter in socialism. If the +same regime were extended over the whole area of production, we should +have socialism itself and a mere soap-bubble bursting into fragments. +There is no need, however, to extend the regime of compulsion over the +whole field. The vast mass of human industrial effort must still lie +outside of the immediate control of the government. Every man will still +earn his own living and that of his family as best he can, relying first +and foremost upon his own efforts. + +One naturally asks, then, To what extent can social reform penetrate +into the ordinary operation of industry itself? Granted that it is +impossible for the state to take over the whole industry of the nation, +does that mean that the present inequalities must continue? The +framework in which our industrial life is set cannot be readily broken +asunder. But we can to a great extent ease the rigidity of its outlines. +A legislative code that starts from sounder principles than those which +have obtained hitherto can do a great deal towards progressive +betterment. Each decade can be an improvement upon the last. Hitherto we +have been hampered at every turn by the supposed obstacle of immutable +economic laws. The theory of "natural" wages and prices of a supposed +economic order that could not be disturbed, set up a sort of legislative +paralysis. The first thing needed is to get away entirely from all such +preconceptions, to recognize that the "natural" order of society, based +on the "natural" liberty, does not correspond with real justice and real +liberty at all, but works injustice at every turn. And at every turn +intrusive social legislation must seek to prevent such injustice. + +It is no part of the present essay to attempt to detail the particulars +of a code of social legislation. That must depend in every case upon the +particular circumstances of the community concerned. But some +indication may be given here of the kind of legislation that may serve +to render the conditions of industry more in conformity with social +justice. Let us take, as a conspicuous example, the case of the Minimum +wage law. Here is a thing sternly condemned in the older thought as an +economic impossibility. It was claimed, as we have seen, that under free +contract a man was paid what he earned and no law could make it more. +But the older theory was wrong. The minimum wage law ought to form, in +one fashion or another, a part of the code of every community. It may be +applied by specific legislation from a central power, or it may be +applied by the discretionary authority of district boards, or it may be +regulated,--as it has been in some of the beginnings already +made,--within the compass of each industry or trade. But the principle +involved is sound. The wage as paid becomes a part of the conditions of +industry. Interest, profits and, later, the direction of consumption and +then of production, conform themselves to it. + +True it is, that in this as in all cases of social legislation, no +application of the law can be made so sweeping and so immediate as to +dislocate the machine and bring industry to a stop. It is probable that +at any particular time and place the legislative minimum wage cannot be +very much in advance of the ordinary or average wage of the people in +employment. But its virtue lies in its progression. The modest increase +of to-day leads to the fuller increase of to-morrow. Properly applied, +the capitalist and the employer of labor need have nothing to fear from +it. Its ultimate effect will not fall upon them, but will serve merely +to alter the direction of human effort. + +Precisely the same reasoning holds good of the shortening of the hours +of labor both by legislative enactment and by collective organization. +Here again the first thing necessary is a clear vision of the goal +towards which we are to strive. The hours of labor are too long. The +world has been caught in the wheels of its own machinery which will not +stop. With each advance in invention and mechanical power it works +harder still. New and feverish desires for luxuries replace each older +want as satisfied. The nerves of our industrial civilization are worn +thin with the rattle of its own machinery. The industrial world is +restless, over-strained and quarrelsome. It seethes with furious +discontent, and looks about it eagerly for a fight. It needs a rest. It +should be sent, as nerve patients are, to the seaside or the quiet of +the hills. Failing this, it should at least slacken the pace of its work +and shorten its working day. + +And for this the thing needed is an altered public opinion on the +subject of work in relation to human character and development. The +nineteenth century glorified work. The poet, sitting beneath a shady +tree, sang of its glories. The working man was incited to contemplate +the beauty of the night's rest that followed on the exhaustion of the +day. It was proved to him that if his day was dull at least his sleep +was sound. The ideal of society was the cheery artisan and the honest +blacksmith, awake and singing with the lark and busy all day long at +the loom and the anvil, till the grateful night soothed them into +well-earned slumber. This, they were told, was better than the +distracted sleep of princes. + +The educated world repeated to itself these grotesque fallacies till it +lost sight of plain and simple truths. Seven o'clock in the morning is +too early for any rational human being to be herded into a factory at +the call of a steam whistle. Ten hours a day of mechanical task is too +long: nine hours is too long: eight hours is too long. I am not raising +here the question as to how and to what extent the eight hours can be +shortened, but only urging the primary need of recognizing that a +working day of eight hours is too long for the full and proper +development of human capacity and for the rational enjoyment of life. +There is no need to quote here to the contrary the long and sustained +toil of the pioneer, the eager labor of the student, unmindful of the +silent hours, or the fierce acquisitive activity of the money-maker that +knows no pause. Activities such as these differ with a whole sky from +the wage-work of the modern industrial worker. The task in one case is +done for its own sake. It is life itself. The other is done only for the +sake of the wage it brings. It is, or should be, a mere preliminary to +living. + +Let it be granted, of course, that a certain amount of work is an +absolute necessity for human character. There is no more pathetic +spectacle on our human stage than the figure of poor puppy in his beach +suit and his tuxedo jacket seeking in vain to amuse himself for ever. A +leisure class no sooner arises than the melancholy monotony of amusement +forces it into mimic work and make-believe activities. It dare not face +the empty day. + +But when all is said about the horror of idleness the broad fact remains +that the hours of work are too long. If we could in imagination +disregard for a moment all question of how the hours of work are to be +shortened and how production is to be maintained and ask only what would +be the ideal number of the daily hours of compulsory work, for +character's sake, few of us would put them at more than four or five. +Many of us, as applied to ourselves, at least, would take a chance on +character at two. + +The shortening of the general hours of work, then, should be among the +primary aims of social reform. There need be no fear that with shortened +hours of labor the sum total of production would fall short of human +needs. This, as has been shown from beginning to end of this essay, is +out of the question. Human _desires_ would eat up the result of ten +times the work we now accomplish. Human _needs_ would be satisfied with +a fraction of it. But the real difficulty in the shortening of hours +lies elsewhere. Here, as in the parallel case of the minimum wage, the +danger is that the attempt to alter things too rapidly may dislocate the +industrial machine. We ought to attempt such a shortening as will strain +the machine to a breaking point, but never break it. This can be done, +as with the minimum wage, partly by positive legislation and partly +collective action. Not much can be done at once. But the process can be +continuous. The short hours achieved with acclamation to-day will later +be denounced as the long hours of to-morrow. The essential point to +grasp, however, is that society at large has nothing to lose by the +process. The shortened hours become a part of the framework of +production. It adapts itself to it. Hitherto we have been caught in the +running of our own machine: it is time that we altered the gearing of +it. + +The two cases selected,--the minimum wage and the legislative shortening +of hours,--have been chosen merely as illustrations and are not +exhaustive of the things that can be done in the field of possible and +practical reform. It is plain enough that in many other directions the +same principles may be applied. The rectification of the ownership of +land so as to eliminate the haphazard gains of the speculator and the +unearned increment of wealth created by the efforts of others, is an +obvious case in point. The "single taxer" sees in this a cure-all for +the ills of society. But his vision is distorted. The private ownership +of land is one of the greatest incentives to human effort that the +world has ever known. It would be folly to abolish it, even if we could. +But here as elsewhere we can seek to re-define and regulate the +conditions of ownership so as to bring them more into keeping with a +common sense view of social justice. + +But the inordinate and fortuitous gains from land are really only one +example from a general class. The war discovered the "profiteer." The +law-makers of the world are busy now with smoking him out from his lair. +But he was there all the time. Inordinate and fortuitous gain, resting +on such things as monopoly, or trickery, or the mere hazards of +abundance and scarcity, complying with the letter of the law but +violating its spirit, are fit objects for appropriate taxation. The ways +and means are difficult, but the social principle involved is clear. + +We may thus form some sort of vision of the social future into which we +are passing. The details are indistinct. But the outline at least in +which it is framed is clear enough. The safety of the future lies in a +progressive movement of social control alleviating the misery which it +cannot obliterate and based upon the broad general principle of equality +of opportunity. The chief immediate direction of social effort should be +towards the attempt to give to every human being in childhood adequate +food, clothing, education and an opportunity in life. This will prove to +be the beginning of many things. + + +THE END + + * * * * * + +Transcriber's Note: Page 67, "are" changed to "and" (wages and all) + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Unsolved Riddle of Social Justice, by +Stephen Leacock + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK UNSOLVED RIDDLE *** + +***** This file should be named 22651.txt or 22651.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/2/6/5/22651/ + +Produced by Suzanne Lybarger, Emille and the Booksmiths +at http://www.eBookForge.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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