CHAPTER XIII
THE GENERAL STRIKE
Of course Ernest was elected to Congress in the great socialist
landslide that took place in the fall of 1912. One great factor
that helped to swell the socialist vote was the destruction of
Hearst.* This the Plutocracy found an easy task. It cost Hearst
eighteen million dollars a year to run his various papers, and this
sum, and more, he got back from the middle class in payment for
advertising. The source of his financial strength lay wholly in
the middle class. The trusts did not advertise.** To destroy
Hearst, all that was necessary was to take away from him his
advertising.
* William Randolph Hearst--a young California millionaire who
became the most powerful newspaper owner in the country. His
newspapers were published in all the large cities, and they
appealed to the perishing middle class and to the proletariat. So
large was his following that he managed to take possession of the
empty shell of the old Democratic Party. He occupied an anomalous
position, preaching an emasculated socialism combined with a
nondescript sort of petty bourgeois capitalism. It was oil and
water, and there was no hope for him, though for a short period he
was a source of serious apprehension to the Plutocrats.
** The cost of advertising was amazing in those helter-skelter
times. Only the small capitalists competed, and therefore they did
the advertising. There being no competition where there was a
trust, there was no need for the trusts to advertise.
The whole middle class had not yet been exterminated. The sturdy
skeleton of it remained; but it was without power. The small
manufacturers and small business men who still survived were at the
complete mercy of the Plutocracy. They had no economic nor
political souls of their own. When the fiat of the Plutocracy went
forth, they withdrew their advertisements from the Hearst papers.
Hearst made a gallant fight. He brought his papers out at a loss
of a million and a half each month. He continued to publish the
advertisements for which he no longer received pay. Again the fiat
of the Plutocracy went forth, and the small business men and
manufacturers swamped him with a flood of notices that he must
discontinue running their old advertisements. Hearst persisted.
Injunctions were served on him. Still he persisted. He received
six months' imprisonment for contempt of court in disobeying the
injunctions, while he was bankrupted by countless damage suits. He
had no chance. The Plutocracy had passed sentence on him. The
courts were in the hands of the Plutocracy to carry the sentence
out. And with Hearst crashed also to destruction the Democratic
Party that he had so recently captured.
With the destruction of Hearst and the Democratic Party, there were
only two paths for his following to take. One was into the
Socialist Party; the other was into the Republican Party. Then it
was that we socialists reaped the fruit of Hearst's pseudo-
socialistic preaching; for the great Majority of his followers came
over to us.
The expropriation of the farmers that took place at this time would
also have swelled our vote had it not been for the brief and futile
rise of the Grange Party. Ernest and the socialist leaders fought
fiercely to capture the farmers; but the destruction of the
socialist press and publishing houses constituted too great a
handicap, while the mouth-to-mouth propaganda had not yet been
perfected. So it was that politicians like Mr. Calvin, who were
themselves farmers long since expropriated, captured the farmers
and threw their political strength away in a vain campaign.
"The poor farmers," Ernest once laughed savagely; "the trusts have
them both coming and going."
And that was really the situation. The seven great trusts, working
together, had pooled their enormous surpluses and made a farm
trust. The railroads, controlling rates, and the bankers and stock
exchange gamesters, controlling prices, had long since bled the
farmers into indebtedness. The bankers, and all the trusts for
that matter, had likewise long since loaned colossal amounts of
money to the farmers. The farmers were in the net. All that
remained to be done was the drawing in of the net. This the farm
trust proceeded to do.
The hard times of 1912 had already caused a frightful slump in the
farm markets. Prices were now deliberately pressed down to
bankruptcy, while the railroads, with extortionate rates, broke the
back of the farmer-camel. Thus the farmers were compelled to
borrow more and more, while they were prevented from paying back
old loans. Then ensued the great foreclosing of mortgages and
enforced collection of notes. The farmers simply surrendered the
land to the farm trust. There was nothing else for them to do.
And having surrendered the land, the farmers next went to work for
the farm trust, becoming managers, superintendents, foremen, and
common laborers. They worked for wages. They became villeins, in
short--serfs bound to the soil by a living wage. They could not
leave their masters, for their masters composed the Plutocracy.
They could not go to the cities, for there, also, the Plutocracy
was in control. They had but one alternative,--to leave the soil
and become vagrants, in brief, to starve. And even there they were
frustrated, for stringent vagrancy laws were passed and rigidly
enforced.
Of course, here and there, farmers, and even whole communities of
farmers, escaped expropriation by virtue of exceptional conditions.
But they were merely strays and did not count, and they were
gathered in anyway during the following year.*
* The destruction of the Roman yeomanry proceeded far less rapidly
than the destruction of the American farmers and small capitalists.
There was momentum in the twentieth century, while there was
practically none in ancient Rome.
Numbers of the farmers, impelled by an insane lust for the soil,
and willing to show what beasts they could become, tried to escape
expropriation by withdrawing from any and all market-dealing. They
sold nothing. They bought nothing. Among themselves a primitive
barter began to spring up. Their privation and hardships were
terrible, but they persisted. It became quite a movement, in fact.
The manner in which they were beaten was unique and logical and
simple. The Plutocracy, by virtue of its possession of the
government, raised their taxes. It was the weak joint in their
armor. Neither buying nor selling, they had no money, and in the
end their land was sold to pay the taxes.
Thus it was that in the fall of 1912 the socialist leaders, with
the exception of Ernest, decided that the end of capitalism had
come. What of the hard times and the consequent vast army of the
unemployed; what of the destruction of the farmers and the middle
class; and what of the decisive defeat administered all along the
line to the labor unions; the socialists were really justified in
believing that the end of capitalism had come and in themselves
throwing down the gauntlet to the Plutocracy.
Alas, how we underestimated the strength of the enemy! Everywhere
the socialists proclaimed their coming victory at the ballot-box,
while, in unmistakable terms, they stated the situation. The
Plutocracy accepted the challenge. It was the Plutocracy, weighing
and balancing, that defeated us by dividing our strength. It was
the Plutocracy, through its secret agents, that raised the cry that
socialism was sacrilegious and atheistic; it was the Plutocracy
that whipped the churches, and especially the Catholic Church, into
line, and robbed us of a portion of the labor vote. And it was the
Plutocracy, through its secret agents of course, that encouraged
the Grange Party and even spread it to the cities into the ranks of
the dying middle class.
Nevertheless the socialist landslide occurred. But, instead of a
sweeping victory with chief executive officers and majorities in
all legislative bodies, we found ourselves in the minority. It is
true, we elected fifty Congressmen; but when they took their seats
in the spring of 1913, they found themselves without power of any
sort. Yet they were more fortunate than the Grangers, who captured
a dozen state governments, and who, in the spring, were not
permitted to take possession of the captured offices. The
incumbents refused to retire, and the courts were in the hands of
the Oligarchy. But this is too far in advance of events. I have
yet to tell of the stirring times of the winter of 1912.
The hard times at home had caused an immense decrease in
consumption. Labor, out of work, had no wages with which to buy.
The result was that the Plutocracy found a greater surplus than
ever on its hands. This surplus it was compelled to dispose of
abroad, and, what of its colossal plans, it needed money. Because
of its strenuous efforts to dispose of the surplus in the world
market, the Plutocracy clashed with Germany. Economic clashes were
usually succeeded by wars, and this particular clash was no
exception. The great German war-lord prepared, and so did the
United States prepare.
The war-cloud hovered dark and ominous. The stage was set for a
world-catastrophe, for in all the world were hard times, labor
troubles, perishing middle classes, armies of unemployed, clashes
of economic interests in the world-market, and mutterings and
rumblings of the socialist revolution.*
* For a long time these mutterings and rumblings had been heard.
As far back as 1906 A.D., Lord Avebury, an Englishman, uttered the
following in the House of Lords: "The unrest in Europe, the spread
of socialism, and the ominous rise of Anarchism, are warnings to
the governments and the ruling classes that the condition of the
working classes in Europe is becoming intolerable, and that if a
revolution is to be avoided some steps must be taken to increase
wages, reduce the hours of labor, and lower the prices of the
necessaries of life." The Wall Street Journal, a stock gamesters'
publication, in commenting upon Lord Avebury's speech, said: "These
words were spoken by an aristocrat and a member of the most
conservative body in all Europe. That gives them all the more
significance. They contain more valuable political economy than is
to be found in most of the books. They sound a note of warning.
Take heed, gentlemen of the war and navy departments!"
At the same time, Sydney Brooks, writing in America, in Harper's
Weekly, said: "You will not hear the socialists mentioned in
Washington. Why should you? The politicians are always the last
people in this country to see what is going on under their noses.
They will jeer at me when I prophesy, and prophesy with the utmost
confidence, that at the next presidential election the socialists
will poll over a million votes."
The Oligarchy wanted the war with Germany. And it wanted the war
for a dozen reasons. In the juggling of events such a war would
cause, in the reshuffling of the international cards and the making
of new treaties and alliances, the Oligarchy had much to gain.
And, furthermore, the war would consume many national surpluses,
reduce the armies of unemployed that menaced all countries, and
give the Oligarchy a breathing space in which to perfect its plans
and carry them out. Such a war would virtually put the Oligarchy
in possession of the world-market. Also, such a war would create a
large standing army that need never be disbanded, while in the
minds of the people would be substituted the issue, "America versus
Germany," in place of "Socialism versus Oligarchy."
And truly the war would have done all these things had it not been
for the socialists. A secret meeting of the Western leaders was
held in our four tiny rooms in Pell Street. Here was first
considered the stand the socialists were to take. It was not the
first time we had put our foot down upon war,* but it was the first
time we had done so in the United States. After our secret meeting
we got in touch with the national organization, and soon our code
cables were passing back and forth across the Atlantic between us
and the International Bureau.
* It was at the very beginning of the twentieth century A.D., that
the international organization of the socialists finally formulated
their long-maturing policy on war. Epitomized their doctrine was:
"Why should the workingmen of one country fight with the workingmen
of another country for the benefit of their capitalist masters?"
On May 21, 1905 A.D., when war threatened between Austria and
Italy, the socialists of Italy, Austria, and Hungary held a
conference at Trieste, and threatened a general strike of the
workingmen of both countries in case war was declared. This was
repeated the following year, when the "Morocco Affair" threatened
to involve France, Germany, and England.
The German socialists were ready to act with us. There were over
five million of them, many of them in the standing army, and, in
addition, they were on friendly terms with the labor unions. In
both countries the socialists came out in bold declaration against
the war and threatened the general strike. And in the meantime
they made preparation for the general strike. Furthermore, the
revolutionary parties in all countries gave public utterance to the
socialist principle of international peace that must be preserved
at all hazards, even to the extent of revolt and revolution at
home.
The general strike was the one great victory we American socialists
won. On the 4th of December the American minister was withdrawn
from the German capital. That night a German fleet made a dash on
Honolulu, sinking three American cruisers and a revenue cutter, and
bombarding the city. Next day both Germany and the United States
declared war, and within an hour the socialists called the general
strike in both countries.
For the first time the German war-lord faced the men of his empire
who made his empire go. Without them he could not run his empire.
The novelty of the situation lay in that their revolt was passive.
They did not fight. They did nothing. And by doing nothing they
tied their war-lord's hands. He would have asked for nothing
better than an opportunity to loose his war-dogs on his rebellious
proletariat. But this was denied him. He could not loose his war-
dogs. Neither could he mobilize his army to go forth to war, nor
could he punish his recalcitrant subjects. Not a wheel moved in
his empire. Not a train ran, not a telegraphic message went over
the wires, for the telegraphers and railroad men had ceased work
along with the rest of the population.
And as it was in Germany, so it was in the United States. At last
organized labor had learned its lesson. Beaten decisively on its
own chosen field, it had abandoned that field and come over to the
political field of the socialists; for the general strike was a
political strike. Besides, organized labor had been so badly
beaten that it did not care. It joined in the general strike out
of sheer desperation. The workers threw down their tools and left
their tasks by the millions. Especially notable were the
machinists. Their heads were bloody, their organization had
apparently been destroyed, yet out they came, along with their
allies in the metal-working trades.
Even the common laborers and all unorganized labor ceased work.
The strike had tied everything up so that nobody could work.
Besides, the women proved to be the strongest promoters of the
strike. They set their faces against the war. They did not want
their men to go forth to die. Then, also, the idea of the general
strike caught the mood of the people. It struck their sense of
humor. The idea was infectious. The children struck in all the
schools, and such teachers as came, went home again from deserted
class rooms. The general strike took the form of a great national
picnic. And the idea of the solidarity of labor, so evidenced,
appealed to the imagination of all. And, finally, there was no
danger to be incurred by the colossal frolic. When everybody was
guilty, how was anybody to be punished?
The United States was paralyzed. No one knew what was happening.
There were no newspapers, no letters, no despatches. Every
community was as completely isolated as though ten thousand miles
of primeval wilderness stretched between it and the rest of the
world. For that matter, the world had ceased to exist. And for a
week this state of affairs was maintained.
In San Francisco we did not know what was happening even across the
bay in Oakland or Berkeley. The effect on one's sensibilities was
weird, depressing. It seemed as though some great cosmic thing lay
dead. The pulse of the land had ceased to beat. Of a truth the
nation had died. There were no wagons rumbling on the streets, no
factory whistles, no hum of electricity in the air, no passing of
street cars, no cries of news-boys--nothing but persons who at rare
intervals went by like furtive ghosts, themselves oppressed and
made unreal by the silence.
And during that week of silence the Oligarchy was taught its
lesson. And well it learned the lesson. The general strike was a
warning. It should never occur again. The Oligarchy would see to
that.
At the end of the week, as had been prearranged, the telegraphers
of Germany and the United States returned to their posts. Through
them the socialist leaders of both countries presented their
ultimatum to the rulers. The war should be called off, or the
general strike would continue. It did not take long to come to an
understanding. The war was declared off, and the populations of
both countries returned to their tasks.
It was this renewal of peace that brought about the alliance
between Germany and the United States. In reality, this was an
alliance between the Emperor and the Oligarchy, for the purpose of
meeting their common foe, the revolutionary proletariat of both
countries. And it was this alliance that the Oligarchy afterward
so treacherously broke when the German socialists rose and drove
the war-lord from his throne. It was the very thing the Oligarchy
had played for--the destruction of its great rival in the world-
market. With the German Emperor out of the way, Germany would have
no surplus to sell abroad. By the very nature of the socialist
state, the German population would consume all that it produced.
Of course, it would trade abroad certain things it produced for
things it did not produce; but this would be quite different from
an unconsumable surplus.
"I'll wager the Oligarchy finds justification," Ernest said, when
its treachery to the German Emperor became known. "As usual, the
Oligarchy will believe it has done right."
And sure enough. The Oligarchy's public defence for the act was
that it had done it for the sake of the American people whose
interests it was looking out for. It had flung its hated rival out
of the world-market and enabled us to dispose of our surplus in
that market.
"And the howling folly of it is that we are so helpless that such
idiots really are managing our interests," was Ernest's comment.
"They have enabled us to sell more abroad, which means that we'll
be compelled to consume less at home."
