Kitabı oku: «Vanishing Landmarks», sayfa 11

A DIAGNOSIS

Before a disease can be treated with any hope of success, its cause, no less than its manifestations, must be studied. American industries and internal improvements were begun with American labor. I can remember when girls in northern New England spent their winters in the factories at Lowell and Manchester and returned to teach school during the summer. When our industries outgrew the supply of American labor, agents were sent abroad and immigrants were brought over under contract. When Congress forbade the admission of contract labor, and wages still advanced, the world heard of it and a polyglot mass of all kindreds and tribes and complexions came flocking to our shores, because, as we have seen elsewhere in this volume, labor was better rewarded here than elsewhere, and relatively better rewarded than capital. Naturally, American-bred boys and girls did not fancy working side by side with foreigners who did not speak the English language, who had not imbibed American ideas and were strangers to American standards of living. So they ceased to accept work, and commenced looking for situations.

I visited a mill in Passaic, New Jersey, where the rules were posted in five languages, and a teacher in one of the schools told me there were nineteen languages spoken in her room. In thousands of establishments, laborers, many of whose names are unpronounceable, are known by numbers. Think of an American citizen, outside of a penitentiary, being identified and known by number. Will any wage satisfy that man? What wage or salary will you accept and be known to your boss only by number, and stand in line and accept a pay envelope at the end of the week as “437”? An increased wage may temporarily satisfy the intellect of a man thus environed but it will not satisfy his heart hunger.

There are only two demands that a laborer knows how to make: He can ask shorter hours, and he can demand more wages, but neither will satisfy, for neither is the thing he needs. Would you like to know what it is for which the very soul of every man – laborer no less than capitalist – cries and without which he will not be appeased? You do not need to be told. You have only to hark back to the days of your youth. You have only to study mental philosophy, using your own inner consciousness as a text book, and you will find the answer. What the American laborer demands, what the American citizen, regardless of his surroundings, needs, is recognition. He wants a voice. His very being demands some measure of responsibility. He needs to feel that in some way he has contributed to results and that someone besides himself knows it. God save America from a generation in whom these divinely implanted aspirations have been stifled.

Being unable to formulate these longings, the laborer limits his demands to the two things which the walking delegate tells him are the only things necessary – shorter hours and more pay. When he gets them the real need of his being remains untouched and he repeats his demand. When his employer seeks to do something for him, instead of doing something together with him, he resents both his charity and his sympathy, and spurns his advice.

Men who are required to deal with men ought to give primary study to human nature, and omit the study of angelic nature until they join the angels. Suppose we continue this analysis of human nature for therein we may find the seed of truth that shall, if nurtured, fructify in blessing to us all.

A few years ago the Chamber of Commerce of one of our very large cities gave a Lincoln Day Banquet at which the speaker of the House of Representatives of Congress was the guest of honor. Among other wise philosophies that fell from his lips was this: “I do not know your personal genesis but I will guess that less than fifty years ago nine out of ten of the intelligent, virile leaders of production, who own and represent capital, as well as the high officials of your state, and of the nation, who sit at this table, were bright-faced schoolboys in the common schools, ‘building castles in Spain.’ If this Chamber shall repeat this banquet a half century hence, you can find your successors in the public schools of today ‘building castles in Spain.’” The thought I gather is not the trite expression that “The youth of today is the adult of tomorrow,” nor that the public school is the nursery of greatness. The thought I get is that he who is destined to achieve prominence in any walk of life is the youth who “builds castles in Spain,” who imagines, who hopes, and who goes out to fight for the fulfillment of his dreams.

What is the probability of a man who cannot speak the English language, and who receives nothing more tangible than a pay envelope and its contents, handed to him by number, sitting by the cot of his son and inspiring the imagination of the coming American? If he says anything, is he not likely to say – are there not a million homes where this is the only appropriate thing that can be said: “My boy, I am sorry that I brought you into the world. I see nothing in life for you. The future is not only dumb but awful dark.”

The kind of men who made this country were told a different story at their trundle beds. They were inspired with hope, for their parents were full of hope. They were filled with expectation, for they knew their parents were expectant. If we revive contented, hopeful Americanism we must inspire “castle building.” We must fill the youth with hope and whet his imagination to keenest edge until he will intuitively seek literature instead of twaddle with which to express his aspiration.

 
“I stand at the end of the past, where the future begins I stand,
Emperors lie in the dust, others shall rise to command;
But greater than rulers unborn, greater than kings who have reigned
Am I that have hope in my heart and victories still to be gained.
Under my feet the world, over my head the sky,
Here at the center of things, in the living presence am I.”
 

CHAPTER XXX
INDUSTRIAL REPUBLICS

While democracy as a form of government spells ruin, democracy in society spells America in her best estate. The possibility of industrial republics is suggested.

While talking about democracy in government we seem to have lost our conception of democracy in society. What better can we expect from democracy in government than France’s experience, when the voice of the people was declared to be the voice of God? But social democracy is a very different thing from a democratic form of government, and has well nigh become a lost blessing.

When the socialist talks about “Industrial Democracy” he means a democratic form of government, with all industries under popular management. That is one extreme. The capitalist demands industrial autocracy. That is the other extreme.

In a previous chapter I have tried to show that when the Fathers formed this government, their experiences, as well as their knowledge of history led them to fear the monarch. The French Revolution was about to burst into what its promoters promised should be the purest form of democracy which the world had ever seen, and the Fathers were justly apprehensive. Dreading the mass quite as much as they feared the monarch, they chose the middle course. They chose representative government.

I wonder if there be a middle course between industrial autocracy and industrial democracy. Is it possible for business concerns and manufacturing plants to create within their organizations industrial republics where each employee shall have some actual voice, and through their representatives sitting in deliberative bodies, analogous to our legislative branch, originate and recommend or approve reforms and improvements subject, of course, to a veto by a cabinet?

Many methods of profit sharing have been tried and they have usually worked advantageously, but admittedly they fall far short of the requirements. So-called cooperative industrial concerns have been created with some measure of success, yet the real problem remains untouched and as complex as ever. Labor has never established a cooperative industry worthy of the name, except as Mallock shows in “The Limits of Pure Democracy,”³ when the actual operation of the concern has been placed in the hands of an oligarch whose administration is as arbitrary as that of any captain of industry. Only in that way has it been possible to supply management, the most essential element, as we have seen, in any enterprise. Labor has sometimes found the capital, but capital and labor without management are impotent. A goodly number of corporations have encouraged and even assisted their workmen to buy stock, which is a very good and meritorious policy. It may tend to alleviate but it fails to cure.

Mallock clearly shows that every successful government unites the elements of autocracy and democracy. Even the Imperial German Government granted certain powers to the people, while the Constitution of the United States clothes the president with powers in certain respects rivaling those of the kaiser. The power of veto which the Constitution vests in the president exceeds any prerogative possessed by the king of England. On the other hand the power to make war rests with Congress, while in Great Britain it requires no parliamentary act. Mallock enlarges upon this thought and shows that socialist organizations and labor unions are successful only because they are arbitrarily managed. Their so-called leaders are, in fact, oligarchs. The Russian Revolution, like the French Revolution, was avowedly of democratic origin, but in fact both were as despotic as anything the world has ever seen. The strength and grandeur of the government of the United States, as established by the Constitution, lies in the most happy combination and blending of these two fundamental principles, popular sovereignty and centralized strength.

The primary difficulty in solving the so-called labor question lies, I think, in failing to recognize the individuality – the personality of the employee. Some tiny share of profits is offered in lieu of increased wages and it is accepted as a mere sop. The offer of stock at a price below the market, with easy payments, is looked upon as a cheap way of tying the hands of the employee, and as an insurance against strikes. I think I am safe in saying that in a very large majority of cases where any of these methods have been tried the men have resented them, and in some instances spurned them. Then the employer concludes that labor will not accept decent treatment, closes his ears, his mouth and his heart and proceeds to get all he can and to give as little as can possibly be forced out of him.

If the basis of masculine happiness is, as I have tried to show, the divinely implanted desire for creatorship, sovereignty and achievement, then we will find it impossible to satisfy the subconscious longings of the human heart with shorter hours, increased wages, or with some slight share of profits in lieu of increased wages. If I am right in my analysis the pathway of access to the real man in the overalls – and a real man is in the overalls and must be discovered – is by some scheme that will necessarily recognize him as a real, thinking and potential entity.

Most humans prefer to be called “citizens” rather than “subjects.” Autocrats speak of their subjects. In republics there are no subjects. All are fellow citizens. If this thought can be carried into the industrial world, the “citizens” therein will find their heart hunger appeased, their hope inspired and they will lift their heads into the clearer atmosphere of industrial opportunity, and possibility of ultimate social recognition. If the theory of evolution has any foundation in fact the species began to lift its head with the first impulse of hope, and its whole body stood erect when the consciousness dawned of being human. A free, brave and hopeful people never went mad. Desperation and failure of recognition is the parent of revolution. Most anyone will fight when called “it.”

Pardon a little personal observation which has direct bearing upon increased efficiency resulting from no other cause than recognition and hope. Forty years ago immigrants from both Germany and Sweden came from Castle Garden to my town every few days. They had been born “subjects” and they toiled after their arrival as they had toiled before as “subjects.” They moved with the air of “subjects.” In my imagination I can see those German families coming up the middle of the street in wooden shoes, single file, the man ahead empty handed except his long pipe, the wife close behind with a baby in her arm, and a big bundle on her head, and the children in regular succession according to age, which seldom varied more than two years. There must have been some hope in the man’s heart or he would not have left his native country. But neither his gait nor his other movements betrayed it. These immigrants immediately sought and secured employment, but they were not worth much the first month or so. It did not take long, however, until it would dawn upon them that opportunity had actually knocked at their door. A few Sunday afternoons on the porch of friends who had left the Fatherland as poor as they, and who were now comfortably situated, plus a wage scale of which hitherto they had only been told, transformed those big fellows. I am not exaggerating when I say they would do without urging from fifty to one hundred percent more work six months, and often six weeks, after their arrival than when they came. They had begun “building castles in Spain.” They were dreaming dreams and the central figure in every vision was a home of their own, and personal recognition. Instead of being subjects they had determined to become citizens.

Can this transformation still be wrought? If it can all danger is past. Of one thing I am certain. It cannot be done by legislation.

CONCLUSION

I came to man’s estate thoroughly believing that the Constitution of the United States is the greatest chart of liberty ever penned by man; and nothing that I have seen, nothing that I have heard, and nothing that has transpired in all my mature life has shaken my faith.

I think I must have been born an optimist. From earliest recollection I have liked the rooster that crows in the morning better than the owl that hoots in the nighttime. And what is best of all, the surroundings of my childhood and youth were exceedingly hopeful. I have seen few hours of discouragement and none of despondency. Despising the pessimist, I have resolved, and am resolved, that nothing shall dim my hope or weaken my confidence either in my country or in the American people, and yet in spite of myself I sometimes feel a very unwelcome impulse.

I observe the teachings of Jefferson forsaken and instead of the minimum of government and the maximum of liberty, more and more of government and less and less of liberty. I see ignored the warnings of Washington against weakening the energy of our governmental system by making changes in the Constitution. I mark the trend away from representative government towards direct government, a policy that has wrought ruin whenever and wherever it has been tried. I note the growing disrespect for authority in the home, in the school and on the street, coupled with certain slurs at the forms of law, as well as for judgments and decrees rendered in harmony therewith, emphasized by bald and naked threats to undermine and, if possible, overthrow our entire judicial system. I overhear the subtle suggestion to our youth that they need give no thought for the morrow, for the government will soon insure employment; that it is folly to make themselves efficient, for the government will sooner or later guarantee wages regardless of merit; that they need not practice thrift, for the government will ultimately pension their old age regardless of profligate habits or vicious living. I discover a growing recognition of capitalistic, industrial and even servant classes, with attempts at class legislation, all subversive of republican ideas, republican traditions and republican institutions. When I realize that all this is as yet only a verdant growth from socialistic, not to say anarchistic seed sown broadcast with scarcely a protest, and knowing that a harvest must yet be garnered, I am at times apprehensive.

But I am reminded that this is the people’s government. If they want it this way it is their business and not mine. If they make a mistake they are abundantly able to respond in consequences. All of which is true, but the fact that it is true, and awfully true, only emphasizes the importance of alert men in the watch towers.

Recognizing the existence of the greatest crisis of all time, a crisis wherein all that we call Christian civilization is imperiled, and being unable to hold my peace I have produced what I hope shall be considered an argument. I have tried to prove scientifically that the fathers were wise beyond their generation. Nothing is scientific that will not stand the test of application. I consider the unschooled George Stevenson a scientist of the first order. He thought out, and worked out, a safety lamp for the protection of coal miners, who during every hour of their toil stood in imminent danger of explosions. Then to prove that he was scientifically correct he had himself lowered into the mine in the nighttime, and, standing there alone, thrust his lighted lamp into the escaping gas. The achievements of the past afford proof positive that our form of government, our policy and our purpose of government were scientifically correct. It cannot be exploded or overthrown. Its only danger is from those of its own household, the children of its own institutions, who may undermine it.

Even the most casual reader must have discovered that in a very marked degree we have departed from the teachings of the Fathers. This we have done first in our form of government, and secondly in our purpose of government, both of which tend strongly to bolshevism, sometimes called socialism, and sometimes called “pure democracy.” It might as well be called Rousseauism. The name is immaterial. The thing itself is the same old snake that first charms, then strangles, covers its victim with ooze and swallows at leisure.

There is little in the book except what the writer considers has direct bearing upon one or the other of two major proposition. First: Representative government was the correct principle when established, and therefore is correct now and will be correct to the end of time. Second: The government was originally correct in granting liberty of action to the citizens and in limiting its own activities to strictly governmental functions. Third: Each and every departure from correct principles or wise policies has led by one pathway or another in the direction of bolshevism.

No people will ever outgrow correct principles of government any more than they will correct principles of agriculture. The fact that times have changed, that inventions have revolutionized industry and that improved methods of transportation have annihilated space, do not in the slightest degree make erroneous a correct principle of government any more than they render false a principle of nature. If the law of gravitation were a provision of the Federal Constitution, there were many in the United States who would have sought to amend it when the “Titanic” went down. They would have argued that when the principle was promulgated by the Great Law Giver, there were neither icebergs nor steamships.

The argument that the people are wiser now than they were is false. The Constitutional Convention contained a larger proportion of college graduates than any convention that has since assembled anywhere, and some of the wisest, and safest and most experienced were not college men. The people who came to America prior to 1787 came for motives as lofty as have actuated those of recent years, and in character, breadth of purpose and intelligence they compare favorably with immigrants of today. In addition, they had many advantages which we do not possess. They had time to think, the prime essential of greatness. They had neither the inclination nor the opportunity to read news items from all over the globe in three or four editions of a metropolitan newspaper, which professedly prints only news, but prints it several times each day. Meditation is necessary for a statesman whether he be required to discharge his responsibility in the halls of legislation or permitted to do so at the polls.

In defending our form of government, I have submitted a brief argument for an independent judiciary. This should be unnecessary in any country enjoying and professing adherence to Anglican liberty. In justification I plead the growing disrespect for, and the multiplied attacks upon, our whole judicial system.

I have also sought to show by the record, as well as by some reference and analysis of human aspirations and emotions, that the governmental policy pursued for many years was correct, and therefore is and will be correct forever. If I have failed to make it clear that for more than one hundred years the government fostered every industry and fathered none, I have made poor use of the material at hand. I have sought to show that the government merely safeguarded the liberties of the people, while her citizens pursued their happiness and won it in achievement, which, in regular sequence, made the nation great. If the argument has any force, it should lead irresistibly to the conclusion that if America expects to make further advancement, the only sure way is to return to these fundamental principles.

I have referred to and briefly discussed bolshevist or socialist doctrines, including confiscation of property, only because they are all involved in the departure from the policy of the fathers. When the Republic changed its course little by little away from granting liberty and affording opportunity and began to restrict and to absorb what the citizen had formerly enjoyed, the way was opened for all the elements of revolution. To understand the gravity of the situation one must study the logical effect, and to comprehend the effect some reference to similar movements in France and Russia is necessary.

I have sought to strengthen the argument against governmental interference in purely secular affairs by showing the unavoidable handicap the government is under when it enters the field of business. This has occasioned some analysis of the Civil Service system, with illustrations of its actual operations.

That my country will return to its original form and purpose, I am more than hopeful; yea, I am confident. It must be that the United States will revert to representative government in its original simplicity. It cannot be otherwise than that a wise citizenship will again select their representatives because of aptitude and will retain them in positions of responsibility until they shall have acquired efficiency through experience, gauging their worth, the while, by results rather than by subservient obedience. An ambitious people, resourceful and hopeful, virile and expectant will certainly take their government out of business, and confine its operations to the legitimate functions of government. All the traditions of the past, all the teachings of the Fathers, all the warnings of history are against paternalism. No government ever made or will make a people great except as it guarantees liberty whereby the people shall make themselves great. No people ever have made or will make themselves great by relying upon their government to do for them the things which the Almighty intended – yea decreed – that they should do for themselves.