The Road To Freedom,
And What Lies Beyond
CHAPTER 10
Josiah and Ethel Wedgwood
[Published in London by C.W. Daniel, Ltd., 1913]
THE NEXT REVOLUTION
Old revolutions only changed
masters and laws.
It is the beginnings of a
revolution that have been outlined in the preceding pages -- a
revolution compared to which the great upheavals in history that have
overthrown dynasties and churches would seem superficial. Hitherto the
nations have attempted nothing beyond the substitution of one
authority for another. Political revolutions have done little but
exchange oligarchy for autocracy, democracy for oligarchy, bureaucracy
for democracy. Authority, in a different dress, has condemned, now Wat
Tyler, and now Charles I., and burned alternately Latimer and
Servetus. Dogmatic revolutions have replaced the word of the Church by
the word of the Bible, and this in its turn by the decrees of
statisticians, doctors, scientists and other experts. Industrial
organisation has succeeded political organisation in the day-dreams of
reformers; but its aims are no surer nor truer, and its methods even
more harassing and tyrannical.
But a free society is
possible.
We have suggested that it is
possible for society to re-establish itself in justice and freedom;
not by the introduction of all manner of new regulations, but by the
removal of the unrighteous laws which are the expression of human
error and the cause of social evils, and by the substitution of a
simple and just relationship between men in their use of the common
sources of life. We believe that, even now, instead of common social
morality being in rear of the opinion that is expressed and
administered in laws, and needing to be controlled and educated by
State rules and State police, it is actually, in both autocratic and
democratic countries, far in advance of the law, which is only a
clumsy register of opinions that time is continually discarding or
rectifying. For this reason -- if for no other -- individual liberty
is the only sure guarantee of general social progress; and to ensure
industrial liberty for every individual, it is only necessary to
ensure to each person free and equitable access to the sources of all
life and of all enterprise.
It is not necessary to make
elaborate provision for the continuance of this present civilisation
in a way more tolerable to the masses; for this civilisation is based
on monopoly of the sources of life, and on industrial and governmental
slavery. The one thing needful, is to remove the monopoly and the
slavery which are corrupting the souls and bodies of both rich and
poor right through the social scale. Those being gone, we can leave it
to a regenerated society to express itself in its own way in a
suitable form.
That some sort of revolution must
take place is certain. The mass of the people -- especially those who
suffer from the present form of society -- recognise already with
their brains its injustice and absurdity. So soon as they recognise it
also with their souls, the change will effect itself, for there will
then be no inertia of conventional opinion to maintain the status quo.
Will the next revolution be
towards freedom or worse tyranny?
The only doubt is : whether this
revolution will lead to greater tyranny and to a stereotyping in
government of our twentieth-century ideals -- or to a greater liberty
and indefinite possibilities of progress and development. It will
depend on the masses; and the masses are hard to read. At times, when
the crush of their own weight is heavy, and suffering severe, they cry
to their popular Baals for a new law or a new grant-in- aid -- a fresh
inspector or an extra shilling a day. But now and again -- especially
after some benevolent dispensation has proved unusually irritating and
futile -- they begin to show signs of restlessness, as though
conscious that they are but changing masters, and that each is more
despotic than the last. The stirrings of independence are still too
vague and instinctive to be reckoned with, but each fresh act of
well-meant interference (and we have had many recently) makes the
movement more conscious and explicit. Dimly the popular spirit begins
to grope after liberty, though often mistaken in method and doubtful
in aim. Under such conditions, many revolutions of the past have ended
in fiasco. Samson, being blind, has done nothing but pull down the
house, and the old architects have built it up again as it was before.
But suppose that it were possible
to forestall or succeed another such abortive revolution by a true one
; suppose that society could be released from the present intolerable
conditions, and that to each person could be restored the
possibilities of industrial and personal freedom, by the abolition, on
terms that left him no privilege over his fellows, of land monopoly.
Suppose that this work were begun under present circumstances and
through existing machinery by a method of taxation ; or that, after a
period of industrial war, private property in land were abolished, and
that a free population, in groups or singly, took occupation of the
soil, with payment of rent to the whole community for any special
advantages of site or minerals. It then remains to be discussed how
such a revolution would change the form of modern society -- in short,
how it would be a real revolution and not a superficial one; by what
steps the change would effect itself; and what it would mean for all
of us -- to whatever class we belong.
Revolution in the form of
society.
It is impossible to conceive that
the civilised world could continue as at present, when once economic
compulsion disappeared. The whole modern industrial machinery is kept
going by two forces: the worker's fear of losing his livelihood, and
the employer's hope of making profits. Whenever either of these
impelling motives is weakened, the machinery goes erratically or comes
to a standstill. This is bound to be the case in large businesses and
factories, where the individual worker cannot see the end of his
labour and is only a cog in the wheel of production, and where the
directors are more concerned with the market than with the workshop.
In work involving variety and
personal initiative, in which the processes are begun and completed by
one set of hands, a personal interest can be taken -- not necessarily
of a mercenary kind; and people, even now, do such work with love of
it, and with a desire to accomplish the end in view. But it is not on
this kind of work that modern industrialism is built up, and by which
the wants of modern civilisation are supplied. Business thrives on the
men and commodities that are turned out by the gross. Any sort of
divergence from the normal, any personal distinction or artistic
individuality, are as unsuitable to the automatic proficiency of
business routine as originality in a box of "refills." Such
a market is best suited by servile men and machine- made commodities.
Moreover, articles of daily use become more and more of that complex
make which requires trades involving mechanical and minutely
subdivided labour. (Most so-called "labour-saving"
appliances involve just this sort of labour in their making.) This is
precisely the most distasteful sort of work, because it involves great
regularity, monotony and effacement of individual brain and
imagination.
Not only is much of the work
stupid, that is needed to keep the present machine going; but the
conditions of its performance would be rebelled against by free men.
It is quite possible, that when the workman no longer felt himself
exploited and overdriven, and was no longer at war with an employer or
a foreman, he would begin to feel personal interest in his work and to
enjoy labour instead of finding it a penance ; but it would be on
condition of doing the work that interested him, and doing it more at
his own leisure and in his own way. The present pace could not
possibly be kept up under such a system ; and the modern world hinges
on pace and numbers. Successful business to-day depends on an
elaborate method of "speeding up": in every department.
Competition takes account neither of men nor machines. They are used
till they go to pieces, and then scrapped. The foreman's wages and
promotion depend on his getting out of each subordinate to a fraction
of the amount he is capable of. A system of fines checks every
irregularity in hours or conduct; and an army of cheap boy labour
supplies the messengers, carriers, lift-men, without which no business
could be an up-to-date concern.
Now it is impossible to believe
that free men would perform labour of this sort and at this pace and
under this sort of direction with the required punctiliousness for
eight, or six, or four, or even two hours a day, however large their
share in the fruits of such industry. Live workers are not actuated,
like the Economic Man of fiction, by the desire of making an
ever-increasing amount of wealth, nor by the communist virtue of
producing for the sake of production; and those who have an
opportunity of earning a competence in cheerful surroundings by work
of an intelligent kind are not likely to turn out regularly en masse
at the call of a buzzer to feed 1-inch steel plates through rollers,
even though they know that society would be wealthier for the
consequent motor cars and railway trains.
Nor would enterprisers be so
zealous in new undertakings if they were not spurred on to exertion by
the hopes of monopoly profits, and also by the dread of slipping back
from the ranks of the masters into those of the men. Take away the two
incentives of greed and fear, make it impossible for a man by
exploitation to raise himself over the rest of his fellows, and much
of the present-day business enterprise must dwindle and factory labour
decline.
Such civilised products might
not, it is true, altogether cease because free labour was loath to
work at them, but production would certainly slacken and grow
irregular ; and the tension through the whole world is so great that a
slackening anywhere would be sufficient to throw that part out of
connection with the rest of civilisation. If the staple exports fail
any longer to compete, imports in turn decrease; and every household
suddenly misses some familiar necessary.
A very slight disorganisation of
any of the principal manufactures or trades would be enough eventually
to dissolve the cement that binds the whole of industrial society
together.
The railway strike of August 1911
gave a brief but vivid illustration of the dependence of all modern
homes -- from the simplest to the wealthiest -- on the continuance of
cheap, frequent and rapid transport. But can one imagine, that under
free conditions the railway service will be carried on as docilely and
securely as at present ? It may be that improvement in hours, wages,
general conditions of work might, in the present state of the labour
market, really satisfy the railway, mining, cotton and other
operatives for a time, because they realise that somewhere in the
background lurks lack of employment. But once they and their
descendants have savoured freedom and independent labour, nothing else
will satisfy them. The clockwork must cease to run smoothly when the
wheels come alive, and the whole social machinery will get out of
gear.
Of course the permanent
slackening of certain kinds of trades and manufactures would not cause
suffering and shock similar to what ensued on the three days' railway
strike of last year. Society, if the change came gradually, would have
time to adjust itself. Access to land would have put simple products
and ample space within the reach of every person, and co-operative and
home industry would replace a good many of the cheap articles now
turned out by factories. Life under such conditions would probably be
happier -- it would certainly be more varied and healthy for the mass
of the population -- only it would be quite different to the life of
modern civilisation.
Disappearance of trades
devoted to supplying parasitic articles.
Thanks to the disappearance of
the wealthy class and those who live on it, the manufactures which
cater exclusively for that class and its parasites would be the first
to vanish. Not only would there be nobody to buy such things, but
there would be few willing to make them. An inspection of the shop
windows of Regent Street and Bond Street will sufficiently indicate
the kind of articles of which the production is likely to cease.
Then, besides the trades which
cater strictly for the very rich, there are many others which depend
on fashion or convention - the aping of the rich and the scramble of
the middle class for the upper places; and half of Oxford Street may
follow Bond Street into limbo.
Besides these, are the trades
which cater for those pleasures which are sought by the large mass of
the population as a relief from distasteful occupation and ugly
domestic lives. When work becomes, under free conditions, itself
agreeable and interesting in its nature, then such distractions will
be less sought after; and many professions -- such as the
cinematograph operator, billiard-marker, music-hall dancer, bar-keeper
-- will become, not extinct, but less common.
It is commonly said that easier
access to land would greatly increase the output of wealth, improve
the purchasing power of the worker, and raise the standard of wealth
and comfort to a very high level all over.
So it might at first. And so it
might permanently, if the opportunities for industry increased, while
the workers still remained bound to labour in those industries. But
wages might rise and land cheapen to any extent, and yet not
counterbalance the falling- off in factory produce due to the freeing
of forced labour and to the consequent disorganisation of the whole
artificial commercial system.
Money would cease to buy things,
because it would cease to hire such large bodies of labour as is
needed for extensive undertakings. Again in the world's history people
would be thrown back on their individual versatility, and those, who
had not yet done so from choice, would turn to the land for the
support of themselves and their families, while small groups of
co-operative labour would replace the centralised manufactures of
to-day.
I have no desire to extol the
Simple Life, nor picture Arcadian morals. In so far as these things
are alluring to the middle-class reader, there is generally something
wrong with them. The Simple Life, as some of us know and like it, is
just an excuse for more artistic surroundings and less domestic worry;
it is generally an expensive luxury after all. Compared to the Petit
Trianon of the modern idealist, the real thing would be for most of us
as unattractive as a cold bath on a winter morning. The real Simple
Life may, or may not, involve a fuller development of individuality in
those that lead it. These aspects do not concern us. If we desire
justice in human relationships, and freedom for the whole population,
we must be prepared to sacrifice, if need be, even the efficiency of
the railway, the telephone, and other services, and to accept the
results, pleasant or unpleasant. And yet, if we could divest ourselves
of the idea that such things were the signs of human progress, we
might find a state of home labour and friendly co-operation not too
dearly bought by the loss of present luxuries with those conditions
that produce them.[1]
In the first place, there is the
immediate diversion of the floating population to the cheap,
accessible country land. This possession of agricultural land would
make practicable such a re-formation of small industries and
manufactures on a co-operative basis as is advocated in Kropotkin's
Fields, Factories and Workshops; in which book is also clearly
shown, how negligible, under modern conditions, are supposed "natural"
advantages of soil and situation. Another levelling factor is the
continual improvements in the applied sciences, which all, broadly
speaking, tend to diminish the difference in value between different
sites, except in so far as their application is restricted by monopoly
to limited areas.
Moreover, it is largely the
possibility of exploitation which gives site-value to land. The
competition for land in certain areas, which creates their economic
rent, exists largely because those areas offer better openings to the
employer who wants to make high profits. For instance, the high value
of land in towns is not only due to the competition of the population
to use it as inhabitants, but also to the fact that, owing to this
large population, capitalists find a crowded labour market, and
compete with each other for sites for industrial undertakings. In this
sense the "enterprise of the community" undoubtedly creates
the monopoly rent of land. These industries so started, again, attract
a larger population for trade or labour, and further increase the
value of the town-sites.
But suppose all site-value taken
in taxation: then there would be no surplus profits to be got out of
one site above another, and the founders of new industrial
undertakings would have no reason for selecting one site rather than
another, since taxation had levelled all special advantages, including
that advantage of easy exploitation, which is also registered by
site-value. Special considerations in each case would be the deciding
factor, and both industries and population would spread themselves out
again over the countryside. Thus we arrive again, by another route, at
a probable combination of agriculture and industry. If this be true,
then under the Single Tax, the revenue taken by the State in economic
rent must be an ever-decreasing quantity, until, finally, a State
maintained by taxation would cease to exist, and the public services
needed would be supplied by voluntary combination among the various
communities.
According to this view,
therefore, some form of communal anarchy is an outcome of the Single
Tax.
Those people, on the other hand,
who think that the destruction of Land Monopoly will encourage the
centralisation of labour and industries, and so increase economic
rents, must deduce from this an ever-increasing State revenue, leading
to a kind of State socialism in which the workers become more and more
dependent on the partition of the central funds, and the central
authority more and more powerful.
NOTES
- An interesting economic result
of such a change in the state of society would be that site-values
would decrease. For site- value is the difference between the
value of any given site and that of the least profitable land in
use, so that as the greater centres broke up and were replaced by
smaller groupings -- as the country became more productive and the
town less so -- the difference would become less and land values
be levelled. This decentralisation of population and industry must
clearly, for several reasons, follow on any general opening up of
land.
CONTENTS
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