Part 26

It does not follow that a dolt must do them! It does not follow that we should hunt out all our inferior persons to do these unelevating things, and so remain inferior. It does not follow that we should keep the inferior person so long at his unelevating task as to further lower his inferiority; that we should pay him so little as to prevent any development from outside advantages; or that, worst of all, we should so condemn his children to their subminimum share of his “minimum wage” as to make them lower yet.

In our ignorance of the nature of society, and the nature of work; in our cheerful blindness to the lessons of history; with our poor choked and twisted brains, so crammed with the follies of our ancestors, and so weakened by what we have called education that they cannot think; we have taken for granted that society had to have about so much “unskilled labour” to provide for, and could only provide for it by “furnishing employment” suited to its powers.

If we can once recognise the facts in the case, we will change our behaviour fast enough. Observe the line of social growth. Here is a nascent society of a vague group of savages, feebly held together by the pressure of a common danger; feebly drawn together by the attraction of a common need. So held and drawn the same forces which grouped the cells and started the growth of physical organisms worked upon them, and they began to differentiate in function.

Follow one line of work, such as the clothing of society. The individual savage took a skin off another animal and put it on himself; that was the beginning. It required in him, and in his squaw, the highly exciting and agreeable exercise of the rudiments of many trades. He hunted, fought, killed, and skinned the beast. She tanned and dressed, cut and sewed, with elaborate decoration. All very interesting.

Now comes the evolution of that industry on inevitable lines. First, the division of trades; one hunted, another tanned, another sewed, and so on. Then, as society increased, as skill increased, as productivity increased, as commerce increased, we find these trades increasing in importance, in bulk, and in complexity; until now we have one garment going through a thousand hands between the wool or cotton fibre, and the wearer of the dress.

In this process, a perfectly healthy social process, the fractional details of the work become extremely small and simple, and our mechanical ingenuity has made them smaller and simpler yet; till no more skill or judgment is required than a factory child or poor dull sweated “garment worker” can apply.

In these familiar facts see the real principle involved. Social progress has so differentiated labour as to make infinitely short, easy, and simple to a thousand co-workers what was once long, difficult, and complicated for one. These beneficently simple processes make possible the use of “unskilled labour”; make it possible for society to maintain in its service individual working capacity lower than that of a savage, lower almost than the beast.

But here is our great error. Unskilled labour does not require the unskilled labourer. Unskilled labour can be performed equally well by skilled labourers of the highest sort, as mere play, as rest from these more exacting functions. In proportion to its simplicity and ease, its extreme mechanical perfection of adjustment, is, or should be, the saving of time involved.

Here is a world, all shod, at the expense of a large amount of individual labour, every man making his own shoes. Here is a world, all shod, at far less expense of labour, when the shoemaker gives his specialised skill to the business. Here is the world, all shod, at infinitely less expense of labour; when the shoe manufactory, with specialised labour and machinery, produces a thousand-fold more swiftly and easily; and a developed commerce distributes around the world. Now, if the shoes of the world are made socially, with a thousandth part the time and labour required to make them individually, how does it happen that the makers of shoes are working harder and longer than ever? Save indeed as the trades-union, in ceaseless and costly combat, has in some degree shortened the time and raised the wages.

It is because of our familiar group of delusions in economics. It is because we so wholly fail to see the organic nature of the process, and what is really the line of social advantage in it. We see the heavy, awkward, dirty, ignorant men digging in our streets, and say, “Poor fellows! Such as they can do no other work! Stern nature has made them inferior, and it is fortunate for them that there is this plain, simple work, which they are able to do.”

What we do not see is that the plain, simple work is part of a highly complex social process. Your nimble savage has no ditch to dig; no road to build; no sewer to clean. This is social service; not of the lowest, but of the highest. The more advanced the society, the more simplified the minute subdivisions of its great and complex processes. Your nimble savage does not have to do one thing, one fraction of a fraction of a thing, for twelve hours a day—or ten—or even eight. If he did—if we did—we who look over the fence at the rude gnomes who labour in the trenches in our vivisected city to-day—we should become as they.

Unskilled labour is high social service, and social sacrifice. It is not so interesting and developing to the individual as the activities of savagery, but it is more essential to the country’s good, to the power and peace of the world. This noble service could be rendered without its present awful penalty. I do not speak of its low wages, but of its heavy punishment.

Here is work done for the service of humanity; not for any low and primitive service either, but to maintain our highest social grade of development. This work, subtle, elaborate, important, only simple in its extreme subdivision, we have chosen in our ignorance to consider “low.” The people who do it we first compelled by force; we now compel on pain of starvation; they are “low” too, and cannot help themselves.

When we understand the real grades of labour, we shall see this to be of the highest, and as such, to have its limits and dangers. Such highly specialised work cannot be followed for long hours, that is a cruel injury; and never needs to be followed for long hours, because the very law of its development is the saving of time and energy. Society, as a whole, loses the major part of the advantage of its specialised development, by ruthlessly degrading and defrauding the very functionary through whom that development is attained.

XII: PRODUCTION Summary

Work is production and distribution. Joy of production. Transmission again. Pleasure in expression more than impression. Social stimulus. Arrested distribution. Increase in production. Shoes. Collective pride. “Owned” machinery. Effect of false concepts. George Eliot’s “Stradivarius.” Art recognised as world-service. The “Pot-boiler.” “Saving” and “serving” one’s country. Traitor and coward. Line of evolution in a productive industry. Effect of errors. “Duty to employer,” etc. Payment not the right incentive. Reactive effect of production. “Greeking.” Effect of great work on society. Physical heredity, social heredity and transmission. Bicycle. Benefit of making, of using. We “exhaust the soil” of humanity by denying it right use of its product. Want theory. Degraded press. Object of production. False production. Individual is society—feels and represents it. Social consciousness mistaken for self-consciousness. “Self-expression” and social service. “The songs of a people.” Position of the artist. Expression is also transmission. “Poor Jones!” Art a social function. Depravity in highly specialised function. The presumptuous eye. Art for humanity’s sake.

XII PRODUCTION

Work is in two main lines, Production and Distribution; to make something, or to hand it about, is human industry.

To create is an intense satisfaction; to combine elements and produce new results, whether it be a bridge, a basket, or a loaf of bread—to make is in itself a joy. But so is it a joy to give something to somebody, whether at first-hand, or in a combination with many; to spread, to disseminate, to feel the current of human good flow through you; both functions are happy.

The universe is an everlasting production, force taking form, energy embodied, disembodied, re-embodied—this is the game of living. Our little mid-station of consciousness feels the pressure of natural forces on both sides, pushing in through the sensory nerves; pushing out through the motor nerves. Owing to our early mistake about the superior pleasure of impression, and our perverse insistence that expression is only a guarded outlay of limited force, by which to secure desired impressions, we have never understood the nature of human production.

The pleasure of right impression is not to be denied. Every sensory nerve should have its proper stimulus. And man, with his immense collective sensorium, with his highly developed personal sensations, due to social evolution, and his power of feeling with and for other people, has enormous capacity for the reception of pleasure. But what is all this pleasurable stimulus for? The brain is not merely a reservoir for stored sensation. A sensation is a certain amount of energy going into the human battery. Once in, it must be discharged in commensurate activity.

Most interesting experiments in psychology are being made to-day, proving this, even in some immediate result of a strong mental impression in unconscious bodily motion; as shown in studies among school children. As the brain develops it has increasing capacity to receive impressions, to retain and to arrange impressions; but nevertheless sometime that mass of impressions must come out in commensurate action, else disease ensues. The human brain, socially developed, and socially stimulated, has great power of expression; that expression is in work, and work is in Production and Distribution. The productivity of the human race, even with its past and present checks and perversions, is the wonder of the ages. Guaranteed the swift and easy satisfaction of those “wants” our economists build so much on, the steady increase of impressed energy has resulted in as steady an increase of expressed energy, necessarily.

Man receives stimulus from a thousand sources. Since we made mental impressions permanent and exchangeable “in book form,” knowledge and emotion bottled, preserved, and distributed broadcast; there is practically no limit to human stimuli; and, since with this increasing stimulus we have steadily reduced the difficulties of execution, our real problem is, how to provide right outlets for the productive energy of humanity. This normal increase of power and execution we have managed to check, however, quite materially. We have gravely interfered with the natural distribution of stimulus up to the present time; but now our rapid multiplication of free school and free library, with similar tendencies in other educational and recreative lines, is producing its natural result in increased energy.

Even with what stimulus was open to us, our production should have been very great; but we have interfered with that also, in more ways than one. The principal obstacle here is the basic error of the Want theory. Holding that man works only to satisfy desire,—i. e., produces merely to consume,—we prostitute our share of the social energy to a factitious personal advantage; and try to govern the productive processes of society by the dictates of self-interest. Here you have a factory in which a hundred men turn out ten hundred pairs of shoes a day. What for? Why, for the feet of ten hundred people, of course—to shoe the world. “Not so,” they protest. “We are making these shoes for ourselves.” “But you cannot wear ten pairs of shoes a day, my man!” “No, but I only do this work for the pay—and I can easily consume the pay for ten pair of shoes a day.”

This poor man never understands his position as a social functionary with all its honour and pleasure. The Ego concept and the Want theory becloud his mind. Even his personal pride in his personal work has lowered since the machine made his work collective, and his mind failed to keep pace with the machine, and make his joy and pride collective too. His pleasure is only in what he gets back from society in return for his labours, and he gets very little. As part of this same ancient misconception of what work is, we find the incredibly multiplied machinery of production “owned” by individuals; and manipulated by them under the same befogging ideas that lead the workman to “limit his output.”

Never were any of the gross and childish superstitions of remotest savagery more injurious—or more ridiculous—than these rudimentary errors under which our economic development so blindly labours. We have our alleged “overproduction” on the one hand—though a full supply of the good things of life is obtained by scarce one-tenth of the population of the world; and we have the ensuing and even more colossal absurdity of the restricted output—whether of the man who stints his day’s labour, or the group of financiers who “corner” some social product, and say how much the world shall have.

These muddy follies of our common mind—for if we did not all, or nearly all, believe in these principles of action, we would not for a moment allow such economic treason and misrule—together with allied fallacies of a similar nature, most seriously interfere with production. Nevertheless, as the laws of nature are somewhat stronger than our evanescent misconceptions, we do see the tremendous increase in our productivity; and, in favoured instances, its grandeur and delight. As good an expression of this feeling as I know in literature is in George Eliot’s poem of “Stradivarius.”

Here is a man, developing an extremely specialised line of production, and clear of brain enough to see the joy and dignity of it.