CHAPTER XXVII--THE MANAGEMENT
In this final chapter it were well to look at the Social Abyss in
its widest aspect, and to put certain questions to Civilisation, by
the answers to which Civilisation must stand or fall. For instance,
has Civilisation bettered the lot of man? "Man," I use in its
democratic sense, meaning the average man. So the question re-
shapes itself: HAS CIVILISATION BETTERED THE LOT OF THE AVERAGE
MAN?
Let us see. In Alaska, along the banks of the Yukon River, near its
mouth, live the Innuit folk. They are a very primitive people,
manifesting but mere glimmering adumbrations of that tremendous
artifice, Civilisation. Their capital amounts possibly to 2 pounds
per head. They hunt and fish for their food with bone-headed spews
and arrows. They never suffer from lack of shelter. Their clothes,
largely made from the skins of animals, are warm. They always have
fuel for their fires, likewise timber for their houses, which they
build partly underground, and in which they lie snugly during the
periods of intense cold. In the summer they live in tents, open to
every breeze and cool. They are healthy, and strong, and happy.
Their one problem is food. They have their times of plenty and
times of famine. In good times they feast; in bad times they die of
starvation. But starvation, as a chronic condition, present with a
large number of them all the time, is a thing unknown. Further,
they have no debts.
In the United Kingdom, on the rim of the Western Ocean, live the
English folk. They are a consummately civilised people. Their
capital amounts to at least 300 pounds per head. They gain their
food, not by hunting and fishing, but by toil at colossal artifices.
For the most part, they suffer from lack of shelter. The greater
number of them are vilely housed, do not have enough fuel to keep
them warm, and are insufficiently clothed. A constant number never
have any houses at all, and sleep shelterless under the stars. Many
are to be found, winter and summer, shivering on the streets in
their rags. They have good times and bad. In good times most of
them manage to get enough to eat, in bad times they die of
starvation. They are dying now, they were dying yesterday and last
year, they will die to-morrow and next year, of starvation; for
they, unlike the Innuit, suffer from a chronic condition of
starvation. There are 40,000,000 of the English folk, and 939 out
of every 1000 of them die in poverty, while a constant army of
8,000,000 struggles on the ragged edge of starvation. Further, each
babe that is born, is born in debt to the sum of 22 pounds. This is
because of an artifice called the National Debt.
In a fair comparison of the average Innuit and the average
Englishman, it will be seen that life is less rigorous for the
Innuit; that while the Innuit suffers only during bad times from
starvation, the Englishman suffers during good times as well; that
no Innuit lacks fuel, clothing, or housing, while the Englishman is
in perpetual lack of these three essentials. In this connection it
is well to instance the judgment of a man such as Huxley. From the
knowledge gained as a medical officer in the East End of London, and
as a scientist pursuing investigations among the most elemental
savages, he concludes, "Were the alternative presented to me, I
would deliberately prefer the life of the savage to that of those
people of Christian London."
The creature comforts man enjoys are the products of man's labour.
Since Civilisation has failed to give the average Englishman food
and shelter equal to that enjoyed by the Innuit, the question
arises: HAS CIVILISATION INCREASED THE PRODUCING POWER OF THE
AVERAGE MAN? If it has not increased man's producing power, then
Civilisation cannot stand.
But, it will be instantly admitted, Civilisation has increased man's
producing power. Five men can produce bread for a thousand. One
man can produce cotton cloth for 250 people, woollens for 300, and
boots and shoes for 1000. Yet it has been shown throughout the
pages of this book that English folk by the millions do not receive
enough food, clothes, and boots. Then arises the third and
inexorable question: IF CIVILISATION HAS INCREASED THE PRODUCING
POWER OF THE AVERAGE MAN, WHY HAS IT NOT BETTERED THE LOT OF THE
AVERAGE MAN?
There can be one answer only--MISMANAGEMENT. Civilisation has made
possible all manner of creature comforts and heart's delights. In
these the average Englishman does not participate. If he shall be
forever unable to participate, then Civilisation falls. There is no
reason for the continued existence of an artifice so avowed a
failure. But it is impossible that men should have reared this
tremendous artifice in vain. It stuns the intellect. To
acknowledge so crushing a defeat is to give the death-blow to
striving and progress.
One other alternative, and one other only, presents itself.
CIVILISATION MUST BE COMPELLED TO BETTER THE LOT OF THE AVERAGE MEN.
This accepted, it becomes at once a question of business management.
Things profitable must be continued; things unprofitable must be
eliminated. Either the Empire is a profit to England, or it is a
loss. If it is a loss, it must be done away with. If it is a
profit, it must be managed so that the average man comes in for a
share of the profit.
If the struggle for commercial supremacy is profitable, continue it.
If it is not, if it hurts the worker and makes his lot worse than
the lot of a savage, then fling foreign markets and industrial
empire overboard. For it is a patent fact that if 40,000,000
people, aided by Civilisation, possess a greater individual
producing power than the Innuit, then those 40,000,000 people should
enjoy more creature comforts and heart's delights than the Innuits
enjoy.
If the 400,000 English gentlemen, "of no occupation," according to
their own statement in the Census of 1881, are unprofitable, do away
with them. Set them to work ploughing game preserves and planting
potatoes. If they are profitable, continue them by all means, but
let it be seen to that the average Englishman shares somewhat in the
profits they produce by working at no occupation.
In short, society must be reorganised, and a capable management put
at the head. That the present management is incapable, there can be
no discussion. It has drained the United Kingdom of its life-blood.
It has enfeebled the stay-at-home folk till they are unable longer
to struggle in the van of the competing nations. It has built up a
West End and an East End as large as the Kingdom is large, in which
one end is riotous and rotten, the other end sickly and underfed.
A vast empire is foundering on the hands of this incapable
management. And by empire is meant the political machinery which
holds together the English-speaking people of the world outside of
the United States. Nor is this charged in a pessimistic spirit.
Blood empire is greater than political empire, and the English of
the New World and the Antipodes are strong and vigorous as ever.
But the political empire under which they are nominally assembled is
perishing. The political machine known as the British Empire is
running down. In the hands of its management it is losing momentum
every day.
It is inevitable that this management, which has grossly and
criminally mismanaged, shall be swept away. Not only has it been
wasteful and inefficient, but it has misappropriated the funds.
Every worn-out, pasty-faced pauper, every blind man, every prison
babe, every man, woman, and child whose belly is gnawing with hunger
pangs, is hungry because the funds have been misappropriated by the
management.
Nor can one member of this managing class plead not guilty before
the judgment bar of Man. "The living in their houses, and in their
graves the dead," are challenged by every babe that dies of
innutrition, by every girl that flees the sweater's den to the
nightly promenade of Piccadilly, by every worked-out toiler that
plunges into the canal. The food this managing class eats, the wine
it drinks, the shows it makes, and the fine clothes it wears, are
challenged by eight million mouths which have never had enough to
fill them, and by twice eight million bodies which have never been
sufficiently clothed and housed.
There can be no mistake. Civilisation has increased man's producing
power an hundred-fold, and through mismanagement the men of
Civilisation live worse than the beasts, and have less to eat and
wear and protect them from the elements than the savage Innuit in a
frigid climate who lives to-day as he lived in the stone age ten
thousand years ago.
CHALLENGE
I have a vague remembrance
Of a story that is told
In some ancient Spanish legend
Or chronicle of old.
It was when brave King Sanche
Was before Zamora slain,
And his great besieging army
Lay encamped upon the plain.
Don Diego de Ordenez
Sallied forth in front of all,
And shouted loud his challenge
To the warders on the wall.
All the people of Zamora,
Both the born and the unborn,
As traitors did he challenge
With taunting words of scorn.
The living in their houses,
And in their graves the dead,
And the waters in their rivers,
And their wine, and oil, and bread.
There is a greater army
That besets us round with strife,
A starving, numberless army
At all the gates of life.
The poverty-stricken millions
Who challenge our wine and bread,
And impeach us all as traitors,
Both the living and the dead.
And whenever I sit at the banquet,
Where the feast and song are high,
Amid the mirth and music
I can hear that fearful cry.
And hollow and haggard faces
Look into the lighted hall,
And wasted hands are extended
To catch the crumbs that fall
And within there is light and plenty,
And odours fill the air;
But without there is cold and darkness,
And hunger and despair.
And there in the camp of famine,
In wind, and cold, and rain,
Christ, the great Lord of the Army,
Lies dead upon the plain.
LONGFELLOW
Footnotes:
{1} This in the Klondike.--J. L.
{2} "Runt" in America is the equivalent of the English "crowl," the
dwarf of a litter.
{3} The San Francisco bricklayer receives twenty shillings per day,
and at present is on strike for twenty-four shillings.
