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Proposed Roads To Freedom

by Bertrand Russell

October, 1996 [eBook #690]

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PROPOSED ROADSTO FREEDOM

BYBERTRAND RUSSELL, F.R.S.

CONTENTS

NTRODUCTION

PART I.HISTORICAL

. MAX AND SOCIALIST DOCTRINEI. BAKUNIN AND ANARCHISMII. THE SYNDICALIST REVOLT

PART II.PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE

V. WORK AND PAYV. GOVERNMENT AND LAWVI. INTERNATIONAL RELATIONSVII. SCIENCE AND ART UNDER SOCIALISM

VIII.THE WORLD AS IT COULD BE MADE

NTRODUCTION

THE attempt to conceive imaginatively a betterordering of human society than the destructive andcruel chaos in which mankind has hitherto existeds by no means modern: it is at least as old as Plato,whose ̀ `Republic'' set the model for the Utopias of

subsequent philosophers. Whoever contemplates the



world in the light of an ideal--whether what he seeksbe intellect, or art, or love, or simple happiness, orall together--must feel a great sorrow in the evilshat men needlessly allow to continue, and--if he bea man of force and vital energy--an urgent desire toead men to the realization of the good which inspireshis creative vision. It is this desire which has beenhe primary force moving the pioneers of Socialismand Anarchism, as it moved the inventors of ideal

commonwealths in the past. In this there is nothingnew. What is new in Socialism and Anarchism, ishat close relation of the ideal to the presentsufferings of men, which has enabled powerful politicalmovements to grow out of the hopes of solitary thinkers.t is this that makes Socialism and Anarchismmportant, and it is this that makes them dangerouso those who batten, consciously or unconsciouslyupon the evils of our present order of society.

The great majority of men and women, in ordinary

imes, pass through life without ever contemplatingor criticising, as a whole, either their ownconditions or those of the world at large. They findhemselves born into a certain place in society, andhey accept what each day brings forth, without anyeffort of thought beyond what the immediate presentequires. Almost as instinctively as the beasts ofhe field, they seek the satisfaction of the needs ofhe moment, without much forethought, and withoutconsidering that by sufficient effort the wholeconditions of their lives could be changed. A certainpercentage, guided by personal ambition, make the effortof thought and will which is necessary to placehemselves among the more fortunate members of thecommunity; but very few among these are seriouslyconcerned to secure for all the advantages which theyseek for themselves. It is only a few rare and exceptionalmen who have that kind of love toward mankindat large that makes them unable to endurepatiently the general mass of evil and suffering,egardless of any relation it may have to their own

ves. These few, driven by sympathetic pain, willseek, first in thought and then in action, for someway of escape, some new system of society by whichfe may become richer, more full of joy and lessull of preventable evils than it is at present. Butn the past such men have, as a rule, failed to interesthe very victims of the injustices which they wishedo remedy. The more unfortunate sections of thepopulation have been ignorant, apathetic from excessof toil and weariness, timorous through the imminentdanger of immediate punishment by the holders of

power, and morally unreliable owing to the loss of



self-respect resulting from their degradation. Tocreate among such classes any conscious, deliberateeffort after general amelioration might have seemeda hopeless task, and indeed in the past it hasgenerally proved so. But the modern world, by thencrease of education and the rise in the standard ofcomfort among wage-earners, has produced newconditions, more favorable than ever before to thedemand for radical reconstruction. It is above all

he Socialists, and in a lesser degree the Anarchistschiefly as the inspirers of Syndicalism), who have

become the exponents of this demand.

What is perhaps most remarkable in regard toboth Socialism and Anarchism is the association of awidespread popular movement with ideals for a betterworld. The ideals have been elaborated, in theirst instance, by solitary writers of books, and yetpowerful sections of the wage-earning classes haveaccepted them as their guide in the practical affairs

of the world. In regard to Socialism this is evident;but in regard to Anarchism it is only true with somequalification. Anarchism as such has never been awidespread creed, it is only in the modified form ofSyndicalism that it has achieved popularity. UnlikeSocialism and Anarchism, Syndicalism is primarilyhe outcome, not of an idea, but of an organization:he fact of Trade Union organization came first, andhe ideas of Syndicalism are those which seemedappropriate to this organization in the opinion ofhe more advanced French Trade Unions. But thedeas are, in the main, derived from Anarchism, andhe men who gained acceptance for them were, forhe most part, Anarchists. Thus we may regardSyndicalism as the Anarchism of the market-placeas opposed to the Anarchism of isolated individualswhich had preserved a precarious life throughout theprevious decades. Taking this view, we find inAnarchist-Syndicalism the same combination of idealand organization as we find in Socialist politicalparties. It is from this standpoint that our study

of these movements will be undertaken.

Socialism and Anarchism, in their modern form,spring respectively from two protagonists, Marx andBakunin, who fought a lifelong battle, culminatingn a split in the first International. We shall beginour study with these two men--first their teaching,and then the organizations which they founded ornspired. This will lead us to the spread of Socialismn more recent years, and thence to the Syndicalistevolt against Socialist emphasis on the State

and political action, and to certain movements outside



France which have some affinity with Syndicalism--notably the I. W. W. in America and GuildSocialism in England. From this historical surveywe shall pass to the consideration of some of themore pressing problems of the future, and shall tryo decide in what respects the world would be happierf the aims of Socialists or Syndicalists wereachieved.

My own opinion--which I may as well indicateat the outset--is that pure Anarchism, though itshould be the ultimate ideal, to which society shouldcontinually approximate, is for the present impossible,and would not survive more than a year or twoat most if it were adopted. On the other hand, bothMarxian Socialism and Syndicalism, in spite of manydrawbacks, seem to me calculated to give rise to ahappier and better world than that in which we live.do not, however, regard either of them as the best

practicable system. Marxian Socialism, I fear,

would give far too much power to the State, whileSyndicalism, which aims at abolishing the State,would, I believe, find itself forced to reconstruct acentral authority in order to put an end to theivalries of different groups of producers. The BEST

practicable system, to my mind, is that of GuildSocialism, which concedes what is valid both in theclaims of the State Socialists and in the Syndicalistear of the State, by adopting a system of federalismamong trades for reasons similar to those whichare recommending federalism among nations. Thegrounds for these conclusions will appear as weproceed.

Before embarking upon the history of recentmovements In favor of radical reconstruction, it willbe worth while to consider some traits of characterwhich distinguish most political idealists, and aremuch misunderstood by the general public for othereasons besides mere prejudice. I wish to do fullustice to these reasons, in order to show the more

effectually why they ought not to be operative.

The leaders of the more advanced movementsare, in general, men of quite unusual disinterestedness,as is evident from a consideration of their careers.Although they have obviously quite as much abilityas many men who rise to positions of great power,hey do not themselves become the arbiters ofcontemporary events, nor do they achieve wealth or theapplause of the mass of their contemporaries. Menwho have the capacity for winning these prizes, and

who work at least as hard as those who win them,



but deliberately adopt a line which makes the winningof them impossible, must be judged to have anaim in life other than personal advancement;whatever admixture of self-seeking may enter into thedetail of their lives, their fundamental motive mustbe outside Self. The pioneers of Socialism, Anarchism,and Syndicalism have, for the most part,experienced prison, exile, and poverty, deliberatelyncurred because they would not abandon their

propaganda; and by this conduct they have shown thathe hope which inspired them was not for themselves,but for mankind.

Nevertheless, though the desire for human welfares what at bottom determines the broad lines of suchmen's lives, it often happens that, in the detail ofheir speech and writing, hatred is far more visiblehan love. The impatient idealist--and without somempatience a man will hardly prove effective--isalmost sure to be led into hatred by the oppositions

and disappointments which he encounters in hisendeavors to bring happiness to the world. The morecertain he is of the purity of his motives and the truthof his gospel, the more indignant he will become whenhis teaching is rejected. Often he will successfullyachieve an attitude of philosophic tolerance asegards the apathy of the masses, and even as regardshe whole-hearted opposition of professed defendersof the status quo. But the men whom he finds itmpossible to forgive are those who profess the same desireor the amelioration of society as he feels himself,but who do not accept his method of achieving thisend. The intense faith which enables him to withstandpersecution for the sake of his beliefs makeshim consider these beliefs so luminously obvious thatany thinking man who rejects them must be dishonest,and must be actuated by some sinister motiveof treachery to the cause. Hence arises the spirit ofhe sect, that bitter, narrow orthodoxy which is thebane of those who hold strongly to an unpopularcreed. So many real temptations to treachery exist

hat suspicion is natural. And among leaders,ambition, which they mortify in their choice of acareer, is sure to return in a new form: in the desireor intellectual mastery and for despotic powerwithin their own sect. From these causes it resultshat the advocates of drastic reform dividehemselves into opposing schools, hating each other witha bitter hatred, accusing each other often of suchcrimes as being in the pay of the police, and demanding,of any speaker or writer whom they are toadmire, that he shall conform exactly to their

prejudices, and make all his teaching minister to their



belief that the exact truth is to be found within themits of their creed. The result of this state of

mind is that, to a casual and unimaginative attention,he men who have sacrificed most through thewish to benefit mankind APPEAR to be actuated farmore by hatred than by love. And the demand fororthodoxy is stifling to any free exercise of intellect.This cause, as well as economic prejudice, has madet difficult for the ̀ ìntellectuals'' to co-operate prac-

ically with the more extreme reformers, however theymay sympathize with their main purposes and evenwith nine-tenths of their program.

Another reason why radical reformers aremisjudged by ordinary men is that they view existingsociety from outside, with hostility towards itsnstitutions. Although, for the most part, they havemore belief than their neighbors in human nature'snherent capacity for a good life, they are soconscious of the cruelty and oppression resulting from

existing institutions that they make a whollymisleading impression of cynicism. Most men havenstinctively two entirely different codes of behavior:one toward those whom they regard as companions orcolleagues or friends, or in some way members of thesame ``herd''; the other toward those whom theyegard as enemies or outcasts or a danger to society.

Radical reformers are apt to concentrate theirattention upon the behavior of society toward theatter class, the class of those toward whom the`herd'' feels ill-will. This class includes, of course,

enemies in war, and criminals; in the minds of thosewho consider the preservation of the existing orderessential to their own safety or privileges, it includesall who advocate any great political or economicchange, and all classes which, through their povertyor through any other cause, are likely to feel adangerous degree of discontent. The ordinary citizenprobably seldom thinks about such individuals orclasses, and goes through life believing that he andhis friends are kindly people, because they have no

wish to injure those toward whom they entertain nogroup-hostility. But the man whose attention isastened upon the relations of a group with thosewhom it hates or fears will judge quite differently.n these relations a surprising ferocity is apt to bedeveloped, and a very ugly side of human naturecomes to the fore. The opponents of capitalismhave learned, through the study of certain historicalacts, that this ferocity has often been shown by thecapitalists and by the State toward the wage-earningclasses, particularly when they have ventured to

protest against the unspeakable suffering to which



ndustrialism has usually condemned them. Hencearises a quite different attitude toward existingsociety from that of the ordinary well-to-do citizen:an attitude as true as his, perhaps also as untrue,but equally based on facts, facts concerning hiselations to his enemies instead of to his friends.

The class-war, like wars between nations,produces two opposing views, each equally true and

equally untrue. The citizen of a nation at war,when he thinks of his own countrymen, thinks of themprimarily as he has experienced them, in dealingswith their friends, in their family relations, and soon. They seem to him on the whole kindly, decentolk. But a nation with which his country is atwar views his compatriots through the medium of aquite different set of experiences: as they appearn the ferocity of battle, in the invasion and subjugationof a hostile territory, or in the chicanery of auggling diplomacy. The men of whom these facts

are true are the very same as the men whom theircompatriots know as husbands or fathers or friends,but they are judged differently because they areudged on different data. And so it is with those whoview the capitalist from the standpoint of theevolutionary wage-earner: they appear inconceivably

cynical and misjudging to the capitalist, because theacts upon which their view is based are facts whichhe either does not know or habitually ignores. Yethe view from the outside is just as true as the viewrom the inside. Both are necessary to the completeruth; and the Socialist, who emphasizes the outsideview, is not a cynic, but merely the friend of thewage-earners, maddened by the spectacle of the needlessmisery which capitalism inflicts upon them.

have placed these general reflections at thebeginning of our study, in order to make it clear tohe reader that, whatever bitterness and hate maybe found in the movements which we are to examine,t is not bitterness or hate, but love, that is their

mainspring. It is difficult not to hate those whoorture the objects of our love. Though difficult, its not impossible; but it requires a breadth ofoutlook and a comprehensiveness of understanding whichare not easy to preserve amid a desperate contest.f ultimate wisdom has not always been preserved bySocialists and Anarchists, they have not differed inhis from their opponents; and in the source of theirnspiration they have shown themselves superior tohose who acquiesce ignorantly or supinely in thenjustices and oppressions by which the existing

system is preserved.



PROPOSED ROADSTO FREEDOM

SOCIALISM, ANARCHISM AND SYNDICALISM

PART I

HISTORICAL

CHAPTER I

MARX AND SOCIALIST DOCTRINE

SOCIALISM, like everything else that is vital, isather a tendency than a strictly definable body of

doctrine. A definition of Socialism is sure either to

nclude some views which many would regard as notSocialistic, or to exclude others which claim to bencluded. But I think we shall come nearest to theessence of Socialism by defining it as the advocacyof communal ownership of land and capital. Communalownership may mean ownership by a democraticState, but cannot be held to include ownershipby any State which is not democratic. Communalownership may also be understood, as AnarchistCommunism understands it, in the sense ofownership by the free association of the men andwomen in a community without those compulsorypowers which are necessary to constitute a State.Some Socialists expect communal ownership to arrivesuddenly and completely by a catastrophic revolution,while others expect it to come gradually, firstn one industry, then in another. Some insist uponhe necessity of completeness in the acquisition ofand and capital by the public, while others wouldbe content to see lingering islands of private ownership,provided they were not too extensive or powerful.

What all forms have in common is democracyand the abolition, virtual or complete, of the presentcapitalistic system. The distinction between Socialists,Anarchists and Syndicalists turns largely uponhe kind of democracy which they desire. OrthodoxSocialists are content with parliamentary democracyn the sphere of government, holding that the evilsapparent in this form of constitution at presentwould disappear with the disappearance of capitalism.Anarchists and Syndicalists, on the otherhand, object to the whole parliamentary machinery,

and aim at a different method of regulating the political



affairs of the community. But all alike aredemocratic in the sense that they aim at abolishingevery kind of privilege and every kind of artificialnequality: all alike are champions of the wage-earner in existing society. All three also have muchn common in their economic doctrine. All threeegard capital and the wages system as a means of

exploiting the laborer in the interests of the possessingclasses, and hold that communal ownership, in one

orm or another, is the only means of bringing freedomo the producers. But within the frameworkof this common doctrine there are many divergences,and even among those who are strictly to be calledSocialists, there is a very considerable diversity ofschools.

Socialism as a power in Europe may be saido begin with Marx. It is true that before his timehere were Socialist theories, both in England and inFrance. It is also true that in France, during the

evolution of 1848, Socialism for a brief periodacquired considerable influence in the State. Buthe Socialists who preceded Marx tended to indulgen Utopian dreams and failed to found any strong orstable political party. To Marx, in collaborationwith Engels, are due both the formulation of a coherentbody of Socialist doctrine, sufficiently true orplausible to dominate the minds of vast numbers ofmen, and the formation of the International Socialistmovement, which has continued to grow in allEuropean countries throughout the last fifty years.

n order to understand Marx's doctrine, it isnecessary to know something of the influences whichormed his outlook. He was born in 1818 at Trevesn the Rhine Provinces, his father being a legalofficial, a Jew who had nominally acceptedChristianity. Marx studied jurisprudence, philosophy,political economy and history at various Germanuniversities. In philosophy he imbibed the doctrinesof Hegel, who was then at the height of his fame,

and something of these doctrines dominated hishought throughout his life. Like Hegel, he saw inhistory the development of an Idea. He conceivedhe changes in the world as forming a logical development,n which one phase passes by revolution intoanother, which is its antithesis--a conception whichgave to his views a certain hard abstractness, and abelief in revolution rather than evolution. But ofHegel's more definite doctrines Marx retained nothingafter his youth. He was recognized as a brilliantstudent, and might have had a prosperous career as

a professor or an official, but his interest in politics



and his Radical views led him into more arduouspaths. Already in 1842 he became editor of a newspaper,which was suppressed by the Prussian Governmentearly in the following year on account ofts advanced opinions. This led Marx to go to Paris,where he became known as a Socialist and acquireda knowledge of his French predecessors.[1] Here in theyear 1844 began his lifelong friendship with Engels,who had been hitherto in business in Manchester,

where he had become acquainted with English Socialismand had in the main adopted its doctrines.[2] In845 Marx was expelled from Paris and went with

Engels to live in Brussels. There he formed a GermanWorking Men's Association and edited a paperwhich was their organ. Through his activities inBrussels he became known to the German CommunistLeague in Paris, who, at the end of 1847, invited himand Engels to draw up for them a manifesto, whichappeared in January, 1848. This is the famous`Communist Manifesto,'' in which for the first time

Marx's system is set forth. It appeared at a fortunatemoment. In the following month, February,he revolution broke out in Paris, and in March itspread to Germany. Fear of the revolution led theBrussels Government to expel Marx from Belgium,but the German revolution made it possible for himo return to his own country. In Germany he againedited a paper, which again led him into a conflictwith the authorities, increasing in severity as theeaction gathered force. In June, 1849, his paper

was suppressed, and he was expelled from Prussia.He returned to Paris, but was expelled from therealso. This led him to settle in England--at thatime an asylum for friends of freedom--and in England,with only brief intervals for purposes of agitation,he continued to live until his death in 1883.

1] Chief among these were Fourier and Saint-Simon, whoconstructed somewhat fantastic Socialistic ideal commonwealths.Proudhon, with whom Marx had some not wholly friendly relations,

s to be regarded as a forerunner of the Anarchists ratherhan of orthodox Socialism.

2] Marx mentions the English Socialists with praise in ``ThePoverty of Philosophy'' (1847). They, like him, tend to baseheir arguments upon a Ricardian theory of value, but theyhave not his scope or erudition or scientific breadth. Amonghem may be mentioned Thomas Hodgskin (1787-1869), originallyan officer in the Navy, but dismissed for a pamphlet criticalof the methods of naval discipline, author of ̀ `Labour DefendedAgainst the Claims of Capital'' (1825) and other works;

William Thompson (1785-1833), author of `Ìnquiry into the



Principles of Distribution of Wealth Most Conducive to HumanHappiness'' (1824), and ``Labour Rewarded'' (1825); andPiercy Ravenstone, from whom Hodgskin's ideas are largelyderived. Perhaps more important than any of these was RobertOwen.

The bulk of his time was occupied in the compositionof his great book, ``Capital.''[3] His other

mportant work during his later years was the formationand spread of the International Working Men'sAssociation. From 1849 onward the greater partof his time was spent in the British Museum, accumulating,with German patience, the materials for hiserrific indictment of capitalist society, but heetained his hold on the International Socialist movement.n several countries he had sons-in-law aseutenants, like Napoleon's brothers, and in the

various internal contests that arose his will generallyprevailed.

3] The first and most important volume appeared in 1867;he other two volumes were published posthumously (1885 and894).

The most essential of Marx's doctrines may beeduced to three: first, what is called the material-stic interpretation of history; second, the law of theconcentration of capital; and, third, the class-war.

. The Materialistic Interpretation of History.--Marx holds that in the main all the phenomena ofhuman society have their origin in material conditions,and these he takes to be embodied in economicsystems. Political constitutions, laws, religions,philosophies--all these he regards as, in their broadoutlines, expressions of the economic regime in thesociety that gives rise to them. It would be unfairo represent him as maintaining that the conscious

economic motive is the only one of importance; its rather that economics molds character and opinion,and is thus the prime source of much that appearsn consciousness to have no connection with them.He applies his doctrine in particular to two revolutions,one in the past, the other in the future. Theevolution in the past is that of the bourgeoisie

against feudalism, which finds its expression, accordingo him, particularly in the French Revolution.The one in the future is the revolution of the wage-earners, or proletariat, against the bourgeoisie,

which is to establish the Socialist Commonwealth.



The whole movement of history is viewed by him asnecessary, as the effect of material causes operatingupon human beings. He does not so much advocatehe Socialist revolution as predict it. He holds, its true, that it will be beneficent, but he is much moreconcerned to prove that it must inevitably come.The same sense of necessity is visible in his expositionof the evils of the capitalist system. He doesnot blame capitalists for the cruelties of which he

shows them to have been guilty; he merely points outhat they are under an inherent necessity to behavecruelly so long as private ownership of land andcapital continues. But their tyranny will not lastorever, for it generates the forces that must in theend overthrow it.

2. The Law of the Concentration of Capital.--Marx pointed out that capitalist undertakings tendo grow larger and larger. He foresaw the substitutionof trusts for free competition, and predicted

hat the number of capitalist enterprises must diminishas the magnitude of single enterprises increased.He supposed that this process must involve a diminution,not only in the number of businesses, but alson the number of capitalists. Indeed, he usuallyspoke as though each business were owned by a singleman. Accordingly, he expected that men would becontinually driven from the ranks of the capitalistsnto those of the proletariat, and that the capitalists,n the course of time, would grow numerically weakerand weaker. He applied this principle not only tondustry but also to agriculture. He expected toind the landowners growing fewer and fewer whileheir estates grew larger and larger. This processwas to make more and more glaring the evils andnjustices of the capitalist system, and to stimulatemore and more the forces of opposition.

3. The Class War.--Marx conceives the wage-earner and the capitalist in a sharp antithesis. Hemagines that every man is, or must soon become,

wholly the one or wholly the other. The wage-earner, who possesses nothing, is exploited by thecapitalists, who possess everything. As the capitalistsystem works itself out and its nature becomes moreclear, the opposition of bourgeoisie and proletariatbecomes more and more marked. The two classes,since they have antagonistic interests, are forcednto a class war which generates within the capitalistegime internal forces of disruption. The working

men learn gradually to combine against theirexploiters, first locally, then nationally, and at last

nternationally. When they have learned to combine



nternationally they must be victorious. Theywill then decree that all land and capital shall beowned in common; exploitation will cease; the tyrannyof the owners of wealth will no longer bepossible; there will no longer be any division ofsociety into classes, and all men will be free.

All these ideas are already contained in the`Communist Manifesto,'' a work of the most amazing

vigor and force, setting forth with terse compressionhe titanic forces of the world, their epic battle, andhe inevitable consummation. This work is of suchmportance in the development of Socialism andgives such an admirable statement of the doctrinesset forth at greater length and with more pedantryn ``Capital,'' that its salient passages must beknown by anyone who wishes to understand the holdwhich Marxian Socialism has acquired over the intellectand imagination of a large proportion of working-classeaders.

À spectre is haunting Europe,'' it begins, ̀ `thespectre of Communism. All the Powers of oldEurope have entered into a holy alliance to exorcisehis spectre--Pope and Czar, Metternich and Guizot,French Radicals and German police-spies. Wheres the party in opposition that has not been decriedas communistic by its opponents in power? Wherehe Opposition that has not hurled back the brandingeproach of Communism against the more

advanced opposition parties, as well as against itse-actionary adversaries?''

The existence of a class war is nothing new:`The history of all hitherto existing society is the

history of class struggles.'' In these struggles theight `èach time ended, either in a revolutionarye-constitution of society at large, or in the commonuin of the contending classes.''

Òur epoch, the epoch of the bourgeoisie . . .

has simplified the class antagonisms. Society as awhole is more and more splitting up into two greathostile camps, into two great classes directly facingeach other: Bourgeoisie and Proletariat.'' Then followsa history of the fall of feudalism, leading to adescription of the bourgeoisie as a revolutionaryorce. ̀ `The bourgeoisie, historically, has played amost revolutionary part.'' ``For exploitation, veiledby religious and political illusions, it has substitutednaked, shameless, direct, brutal exploitation.'' ̀ `Theneed of a constantly expanding market for its products

chases the bourgeoisie over the whole surface



of the globe.'' ̀ `The bourgeoisie, during its rule ofscarce one hundred years, has created more massiveand more colossal productive forces than have allpreceding generations together.'' Feudal relationsbecame fetters: ``They had to be burst asunder;hey were burst asunder. . . . A similar movements going on before our own eyes.'' ̀ `The weaponswith which the bourgeoisie felled feudalism to theground are now turned against the bourgeoisie itself.

But not only has the bourgoisie forged the weaponshat bring death to itself; it has also called intoexistence the men who are to wield those weapons--he modern working class--the proletarians.''

The cause of the destitution of the proletariatare then set forth. ``The cost of production of aworkman is restricted, almost entirely, to the meansof subsistence that he requires for his maintenanceand for the propagation of his race. But the priceof a commodity, and therefore also of labor, is equal

o its cost of production. In proportion, therefore,as the repulsiveness of the work increases, the wagedecreases. Nay more, in proportion as the use ofmachinery and diversion of labor increases, in thesame proportion the burden of toil also increases.''

`Modern industry has converted the little workshopof the patriarchal master into the great factoryof the industrial capitalist. Masses of laborers,crowded into the factory, are organized like soldiers.As privates of the industrial army they are placedunder the command of a perfect hierarchy of officersand sergeants. Not only are they slaves of the bourgeoisclass, and of the bourgeois State, they aredaily and hourly enslaved by the machine, by theover-looker, and, above all, by the individualbourgeois manufacturer himself. The more openly thisdespotism proclaims gain to be its end and aim, themore petty, the more hateful, and the more embitteringt is.''

The Manifesto tells next the manner of growthof the class struggle. ̀ `The proletariat goeshrough various stages of development. With itsbirth begins its struggle with the bourgeoisie. Atirst the contest is carried on by individual laborers,hen by the workpeople of a factory, then by theoperatives of one trade, in one locality, against thendividual bourgeois who directly exploits them.They direct their attacks not against the bourgeoisconditions of production, but against the instrumentsof production themselves.''



Àt this stage the laborers still form an incoherentmass scattered over the whole country, and brokenup by their mutual competition. If anywhere theyunite to form more compact bodies, this is not yethe consequence of their own active union, but ofhe union of the bourgeoisie, which class, in order toattain its own political ends, is compelled to set thewhole proletariat in motion, and is moreover yet, fora time, able to do so.''

`The collisions between individual workmen andndividual bourgeois take more and more the characterof collisions between two classes. Thereuponhe workers begin to form combinations (TradesUnions) against the bourgeois; they club togethern order to keep up the rate of wages; they foundpermanent associations in order to make provisionbeforehand for these occasional revolts. Here andhere the contest breaks out into riots. Now andhen the workers are victorious, but only for a time.

The real fruit of their battles lies, not in the immediateesult, but in the ever-expanding union ofhe workers. This union is helped on by the im-proved means of communication that are createdby modern industry, and that place the workersof different localities in contact with one another.t was just this contact that was needed to centralizehe numerous local struggles, all of the same character,nto one national struggle between classes.But every class struggle is a political struggle. Andhat union, to attain which the burghers of theMiddle Ages, with their miserable highways, requiredcenturies, the modern proletarians, thanks to railways,achieve in a few years. This organization ofhe proletarians into a class, and consequently intoa political party, is continually being upset again byhe competition between the workers themselves. Butt ever rises up again, stronger, firmer, mightier. Itcompels legislative recognition of particular interestsof the workers, by taking advantage of the divisionsamong the bourgeoisie itself.''

Ìn the conditions of the proletariat, those ofold society at large are already virtually swamped.The proletarian is without property; his relationo his wife and children has no longer anything incommon with the bourgeois family-relations; modernndustrial labor, modern subjection to capital, thesame in England as in France, in America as inGermany, has stripped him of every trace of nationalcharacter. Law, morality, religion, are to him somany bourgeois prejudices, behind which lurk in

ambush just as many bourgeois interests. All the



preceding classes that got the upper hand, soughto fortify their already acquired status by subjectingsociety at large to their conditions of appropriation.The proletarians cannot become mastersof the productive forces of society, except by abolishingheir own previous mode of appropriation, andhereby also every other previous mode of appropriation.They have nothing of their own to secure and toortify; their mission is to destroy all previous

securities for, and insurances of, individual property.All previous historical movements were movementsof minorities, or in the interest of minorities. Theproletarian movement is the self-conscious, independentmovement of the immense majority, in thenterest of the immense majority. The proletariat,he lowest stratum of our present society, cannotstir, cannot raise itself up, without the whole super-ncumbent strata of official society being sprungnto the air.''

The Communists, says Marx, stand for the proletariatas a whole. They are international. ``TheCommunists are further reproached with desiringo abolish countries and nationality. The workingmen have no country. We cannot take from themwhat they have not got.''

The immediate aim of the Communists is the conquestsof political power by the proletariat. ``Theheory of the Communists may be summed up in thesingle sentence: Abolition of private property.''

The materialistic interpretation of history isused to answer such charges as that Communism isanti-Christian. ̀ `The charges against Communismmade from a religious, a philosophical, and, generally,rom an ideological standpoint, are not deservingof serious examination. Does it require deepntuition to comprehend that man's ideas, views andconceptions, in one word, man's consciousness,changes with every change in the conditions of his

material existence, in his social relations, and in hissocial life?''

The attitude of the Manifesto to the State is notaltogether easy to grasp. ``The executive of themodern State,'' we are told, ̀ ìs but a Committee formanaging the common affairs of the whole bourgeoisie.''Nevertheless, the first step for the proletariatmust be to acquire control of the State. ``We haveseen above, that the first step in the revolution by theworking class, is to raise the proletariat to the position

of ruling class, to win the battle of democracy.



The proletariat will use its political supremacy towrest, by degrees, all capital from the bourgeoisie,o centralize all instruments of production in thehands of the State, i.e., of the proletariat organizedas the ruling class; and to increase the total of productiveorces as rapidly as possible.''

The Manifesto passes on to an immediate programof reforms, which would in the first instance

much increase the power of the existing State, butt is contended that when the Socialist revolution isaccomplished, the State, as we know it, will haveceased to exist. As Engels says elsewhere, when theproletariat seizes the power of the State ̀ ìt puts anend to all differences of class and antagonisms ofclass, and consequently also puts an end to the Stateas a State.'' Thus, although State Socialism might,n fact, be the outcome of the proposals of Marx andEngels, they cannot themselves be accused of anyglorification of the State.

The Manifesto ends with an appeal to the wage-earners of the world to rise on behalf of Communism.`The Communists disdain to conceal their views and

aims. They openly declare that their ends can beattained only by the forcible overthrow of all existingsocial conditions. Let the ruling classes trembleat a Communistic revolution. The proletarians havenothing to lose but their chains. They have a worldo win. Working men of all countries, unite!''

n all the great countries of the Continent,except Russia, a revolution followed quickly on thepublication of the Communist Manifesto, but theevolution was not economic or international, except

at first in France. Everywhere else it was inspiredby the ideas of nationalism. Accordingly, the rulersof the world, momentarily terrified, were able toecover power by fomenting the enmities inherentn the nationalist idea, and everywhere, after a verybrief triumph, the revolution ended in war and

eaction. The ideas of the Communist Manifestoappeared before the world was ready for them, butts authors lived to see the beginnings of the growthof that Socialist movement in every country, whichhas pressed on with increasing force, influencingGovernments more and more, dominating the RussianRevolution, and perhaps capable of achievingat no very distant date that international triumph towhich the last sentences of the Manifesto summonhe wage-earners of the world.

Marx's magnum opus, ̀ `Capital,'' added bulk



and substance to the theses of the Communist Manifesto.t contributed the theory of surplus value,which professed to explain the actual mechanismof capitalist exploitation. This doctrine is verycomplicated and is scarcely tenable as a contributiono pure theory. It is rather to be viewed as a translationnto abstract terms of the hatred with whichMarx regarded the system that coins wealth out ofhuman lives, and it is in this spirit, rather than in

hat of disinterested analysis, that it has been readby its admirers. A critical examination of the theoryof surplus value would require much difficult andabstract discussion of pure economic theory withouthaving much bearing upon the practical truth oralsehood of Socialism; it has therefore seemed impossiblewithin the limits of the present volume. Tomy mind the best parts of the book are those whichdeal with economic facts, of which Marx's knowledgewas encyclopaedic. It was by these facts thathe hoped to instil into his disciples that firm and

undying hatred that should make them soldiers tohe death in the class war. The facts which heaccumulates are such as are practically unknown tohe vast majority of those who live comfortable lives.They are very terrible facts, and the economic systemwhich generates them must be acknowledged to bea very terrible system. A few examples of his choiceof facts will serve to explain the bitterness of manySocialists:--

Mr. Broughton Charlton, county magistrate, declared,as chairman of a meeting held at the Assembly Rooms,Nottingham, on the 14th January, 1860, ``that there wasan amount of privation and suffering among that portionof the population connected with the lace trade, unknownn other parts of the kingdom, indeed, in the civilizedworld. . . . Children of nine or ten years are draggedrom their squalid beds at two, three, or four o clock inhe morning and compelled to work for a bare subsistenceuntil ten, eleven, or twelve at night, their limbs wearing

away, their frames dwindling, their faces whitening,and their humanity absolutely sinking into a stone-likeorpor, utterly horrible to contemplate.''[4]

4] Vol. i, p. 227.

Three railway men are standing before a London coroner'sury--a guard, an engine-driver, a signalman.A tremendous railway accident has hurried hundreds of

passengers into another world. The negligence of the



employes is the cause of the misfortune. They declarewith one voice before the jury that ten or twelve yearsbefore, their labor only lasted eight hours a day. Duringhe last five or six years it had been screwed up to4, 18, and 20 hours, and under a specially severe pressure

of holiday-makers, at times of excursion trains, itoften lasted 40 or 50 hours without a break. Theywere ordinary men, not Cyclops. At a certain point theirabor-power failed. Torpor seized them. Their brain

ceased to think, their eyes to see. The thoroughly`respectable'' British jurymen answered by a verdict that

sent them to the next assizes on a charge of manslaughter,and, in a gentle ̀ `rider'' to their verdict, expressed thepious hope that the capitalistic magnates of the railwayswould, in future, be more extravagant in the purchase ofa sufficient quantity of labor-power, and more ̀ àbstemious,''more ``self-denying,'' more ``thrifty,'' in thedraining of paid labor-power.[5]

5] Vol. i, pp. 237, 238.

n the last week of June, 1863, all the London dailypapers published a paragraph with the ̀ `sensational''heading, ``Death from simple over-work.'' It dealt withhe death of the milliner, Mary Anne Walkley, 20 yearsof age, employed in a highly respectable dressmakingestablishment, exploited by a lady with the pleasant nameof Elise. The old, often-told story was once more recounted.This girl worked, on an average, 16 1/2 hours,during the season often 30 hours, without a break, whilsther failing labor-power was revived by occasional suppliesof sherry, port, or coffee. It was just now theheight of the season. It was necessary to conjure upn the twinkling of an eye the gorgeous dresses for thenoble ladies bidden to the ball in honor of the newly-mported Princess of Wales. Mary Anne Walkley hadworked without intermission for 26 1/2 hours, with 60other girls, 30 in one room, that only afforded 1/3 ofhe cubic feet of air required for them. At night, they

slept in pairs in one of the stifling holes into which thebedroom was divided by partitions of board. And thiswas one of the best millinery establishments in London.Mary Anne Walkley fell ill on the Friday, died on Sunday,without, to the astonishment of Madame Elise,having previously completed the work in hand. The doctor,Mr. Keys, called too late to the death bed, duly borewitness before the coroner's jury that ``Mary AnneWalkley had died from long hours of work in an over-crowded workroom, and a too small and badly ventilatedbedroom.'' In order to give the doctor a lesson in good

manners, the coroner's jury thereupon brought in a verdict



hat ̀ `the deceased had died of apoplexy, but therewas reason to fear that her death had been acceleratedby over-work in an over-crowded workroom, &c.'' `Òurwhite slaves,'' cried the ``Morning Star,'' the organ of theree-traders, Cobden and Bright, `òur white slaves, whoare toiled into the grave, for the most part silently pineand die.''[6]

6] Vol. i, pp. 239, 240.

Edward VI: A statue of the first year of his reign,547, ordains that if anyone refuses to work, he shall be

condemned as a slave to the person who has denouncedhim as an idler. The master shall feed his slave on breadand water, weak broth and such refuse meat as he thinksit. He has the right to force him to do any work, nomatter how disgusting, with whip and chains. If theslave is absent a fortnight, he is condemned to slavery for

fe and is to be branded on forehead or back with theetter S; if he runs away thrice, he is to be executed asa felon. The master can sell him, bequeath him, let himout on hire as a slave, just as any other personal chattelor cattle. If the slaves attempt anything against themasters, they are also to be executed. Justices of thepeace, on information, are to hunt the rascals down. If ithappens that a vagabond has been idling about for threedays, he is to be taken to his birthplace, branded with aedhot iron with the letter V on the breast and be seto work, in chains, in the streets or at some other labor.f the vagabond gives a false birthplace, he is then tobecome the slave for life of this place, of its inhabitants,or its corporation, and to be branded with an S. All personshave the right to take away the children of thevagabonds and to keep them as apprentices, the youngmen until the 24th year, the girls until the 20th. Ifhey run away, they are to become up to this age theslaves of their masters, who can put them in irons, whiphem, &c., if they like. Every master may put an ironing around the neck, arms or legs of his slave, by which

o know him more easily and to be more certain of him.The last part of this statute provides that certain poorpeople may be employed by a place or by persons, whoare willing to give them food and drink and to find themwork. This kind of parish-slaves was kept up in Englanduntil far into the 19th century under the name of`roundsmen.''[7]

7] Vol. i, pp. 758, 759.



Page after page and chapter after chapter ofacts of this nature, each brought up to illustratesome fatalistic theory which Marx professes to haveproved by exact reasoning, cannot but stir into furyany passionate working-class reader, and intounbearable shame any possessor of capital in whomgenerosity and justice are not wholly extinct.

Almost at the end of the volume, in a very brief

chapter, called ̀ `Historical Tendency of CapitalistAccumulation,'' Marx allows one moment's glimpseof the hope that lies beyond the present horror:--

As soon as this process of transformation hassufficiently decomposed the old society from top to bottom,as soon as the laborers are turned into proletarians, theirmeans of labor into capital, as soon as the capitalistmode of production stands on its own feet, then theurther socialization of labor and further transformation

of the land and other means of production into so-cially exploited and, therefore, common means of production,as well as the further expropriation of private proprietors,akes a new form. That which is now to beexpropriated is no longer the laborer working for himself,but the capitalist exploiting many laborers. Thisexpropriation is accomplished by the action of the immanentaws of capitalistic production itself, by thecentralization of capital. One capitalist always killsmany, and in hand with this centralization, or thisexpropriation of many capitalists by few, develop, onan ever extending scale, the co-operative form of theabor-process, the conscious technical application ofscience, the methodical cultivation of the soil, theransformation of the instruments of labor into instrumentsof labor only usable in common, the economizing of allmeans of production by their use as the means of productionof combined, socialized labor, the entanglementof all peoples in the net of the world-market, and withhis, the international character of the capitalistic regime.Along with the constantly diminishing number of the

magnates of capital, who usurp and monopolize alladvantages of this process of transformation, grows themass of misery, oppression, slavery, degradation, exploitation;but with this, too, grows the revolt of the working-class, a class always increasing in numbers, and disciplined,united, organized by the very mechanism of theprocess of capitalist production itself. The monopoly ofcapital becomes a fetter upon the mode of production,which has sprung up and flourished along with, andunder it. Centralization of the means of production andsocialization of labor at last reach a point where they

become incompatible with their capitalist integument.



This integument is burst asunder. The knell of capitalistprivate property sounds. The expropriators areexpropriated,[8]

8] Vol. i pp. 788, 789.

That is all. Hardly another word from beginning

o end is allowed to relieve the gloom, and in thiselentless pressure upon the mind of the reader lies

a great part of the power which this book hasacquired.

Two questions are raised by Marx's work: First,Are his laws of historical development true? Second,s Socialism desirable? The second of these questionss quite independent of the first. Marx professeso prove that Socialism must come, but scarcely concernshimself to argue that when it comes it will be

a good thing. It may be, however, that if it comes,t will be a good thing, even though all Marx's argumentso prove that it must come should be at fault.n actual fact, time has shown many flaws in Marx'sheories. The development of the world has beensufficiently like his prophecy to prove him a man ofvery unusual penetration, but has not been sufficientlyke to make either political or economic history

exactly such as he predicted that it would be.Nationalism, so far from diminishing, has increased,and has failed to be conquered by the cosmopolitanendencies which Marx rightly discerned in finance.Although big businesses have grown bigger and haveover a great area reached the stage of monopoly,yet the number of shareholders in such enterprisess so large that the actual number of individualsnterested in the capitalist system has continuallyncreased. Moreover, though large firms have grownarger, there has been a simultaneous increase inirms of medium size. Meanwhile the wage-earners,who were, according to Marx, to have remained at

he bare level of subsistence at which they were inhe England of the first half of the nineteenth century,have instead profited by the general increaseof wealth, though in a lesser degree than the capitalists.The supposed iron law of wages has beenproved untrue, so far as labor in civilized countriess concerned. If we wish now to find examples ofcapitalist cruelty analogous to those with whichMarx's book is filled, we shall have to go for mostof our material to the Tropics, or at any rate toegions where there are men of inferior races to

exploit. Again: the skilled worker of the present day



s an aristocrat in the world of labor. It is a questionwith him whether he shall ally himself with theunskilled worker against the capitalist, or with thecapitalist against the unskilled worker. Very oftenhe is himself a capitalist in a small way, and if hes not so individually, his trade union or his friendlysociety is pretty sure to be so. Hence the sharpnessof the class war has not been maintained. Thereare gradations, intermediate ranks between rich and

poor, instead of the clear-cut logical antithesisbetween the workers who have nothing and the capitalistswho have all. Even in Germany, whichbecame the home of orthodox Marxianism and developeda powerful Social-Democratic party, nominallyaccepting the doctrine of ``Das Kapital'' as all butverbally inspired, even there the enormous increaseof wealth in all classes in the years preceding thewar led Socialists to revise their beliefs and to adoptan evolutionary rather than a revolutionary attitude.Bernstein, a German Socialist who lived long in

England, inaugurated the ``Revisionist'' movementwhich at last conquered the bulk of the party. Hiscriticisms of Marxian orthodoxy are set forth inhis ̀ Èvolutionary Socialism.''[9] Bernstein's work,as is common in Broad Church writers, consistsargely in showing that the Founders did not holdheir doctrines so rigidly as their followers havedone. There is much in the writings of Marx andEngels that cannot be fitted into the rigid orthodoxywhich grew up among their disciples. Bernstein'smain criticisms of these disciples, apart from such aswe have already mentioned, consist in a defense ofpiecemeal action as against revolution. He protestsagainst the attitude of undue hostility to Liberalismwhich is common among Socialists, and he blunts theedge of the Internationalism which undoubtedly ispart of the teachings of Marx. The workers, hesays, have a Fatherland as soon as they becomecitizens, and on this basis he defends that degree ofnationalism which the war has since shown to beprevalent in the ranks of Socialists. He even goes

so far as to maintain that European nations have aight to tropical territory owing to their highercivilization. Such doctrines diminish revolutionaryardor and tend to transform Socialists into a leftwing of the Liberal Party. But the increasing prosperityof wage-earners before the war made thesedevelopments inevitable. Whether the war will havealtered conditions in this respect, it is as yetmpossible to know. Bernstein concludes with the wiseemark that: ``We have to take working men as they

are. And they are neither so universally paupers as

was set out in the Communist Manifesto, nor so free



rom prejudices and weaknesses as their courtierswish to make us believe.''

9] Die Voraussetzungen des Sozialismus und die Aufgabender Sozial-Demokratie.''

n March, 1914, Bernstein delivered a lecture in Budapestn which he withdrew from several of the positions he had taken

up (vide Budapest ``Volkstimme,'' March 19, 1914).

Berstein represents the decay of Marxian orthodoxyrom within. Syndicalism represents an attackagainst it from without, from the standpoint of adoctrine which professes to be even more radical andmore revolutionary than that of Marx and Engels.The attitude of Syndicalists to Marx may be seen inSorel's little book, ``La Decomposition du Marxisme,''and in his larger work, ``Reflections on

Violence,'' authorized translation by T. E. HulmeAllen & Unwin, 1915). After quoting Bernstein,

with approval in so far as he criticises Marx, Sorelproceeds to other criticisms of a different order. Hepoints out (what is true) that Marx's theoreticaleconomics remain very near to Manchesterism: theorthodox political economy of his youth was acceptedby him on many points on which it is now known tobe wrong. According to Sorel, the really essentialhing in Marx's teaching is the class war. Whoeverkeeps this alive is keeping alive the spirit of Socialismmuch more truly than those who adhere to theetter of Social-Democratic orthodoxy. On the basisof the class war, French Syndicalists developed acriticism of Marx which goes much deeper than thosehat we have been hitherto considering. Marx'sviews on historical development may have been in agreater or less degree mistaken in fact, and yet theeconomic and political system which he sought tocreate might be just as desirable as his followerssuppose. Syndicalism, however, criticises, not only

Marx's views of fact, but also the goal at which heaims and the general nature of the means which heecommends. Marx's ideas were formed at a time

when democracy did not yet exist. It was in thevery year in which ̀ `Das Kapital'' appeared thaturban working men first got the vote in England anduniversal suffrage was granted by Bismarck inNorthern Germany. It was natural that great hopesshould be entertained as to what democracy wouldachieve. Marx, like the orthodox economists,magined that men's opinions are guided by a more

or less enlightened view of economic self-interest, or



ather of economic class interest. A long experienceof the workings of political democracy has shownhat in this respect Disraeli and Bismarck wereshrewder judges of human nature than either Liberalsor Socialists. It has become increasingly difficulto put trust in the State as a means to liberty,or in political parties as instruments sufficientlypowerful to force the State into the service of thepeople. The modern State, says Sorel, ̀ ìs a body of

ntellectuals, which is invested with privileges, andwhich possesses means of the kind called political fordefending itself against the attacks made on it byother groups of intellectuals, eager to possess theprofits of public employment. Parties are constitutedn order to acquire the conquest of theseemployments, and they are analogous to the State.''[10]

10] La Decomposition du Marxisme,'' p. 53.

Syndicalists aim at organizing men, not by party,but by occupation. This, they say, alone representshe true conception and method of the class war.Accordingly they despise all POLITICAL action throughhe medium of Parliament and elections: the kind ofaction that they recommend is direct action by theevolutionary syndicate or trade union. The battle-

cry of industrial versus political action has spreadar beyond the ranks of French Syndicalism. It iso be found in the I. W. W. in America, and amongndustrial Unionists and Guild Socialists in GreatBritain. Those who advocate it, for the most part,aim also at a different goal from that of Marx. Theybelieve that there can be no adequate individualreedom where the State is all-powerful, even if theState be a Socialist one. Some of them are out-and-out Anarchists, who wish to see the State whollyabolished; others only wish to curtail its authority.Owing to this movement, opposition to Marx, whichrom the Anarchist side existed from the first, has

grown very strong. It is this opposition in its olderorm that will occupy us in our next chapter.

CHAPTER II

BAKUNIN AND ANARCHISM

N the popular mind, an Anarchist is a person

who throws bombs and commits other outrages,



either because he is more or less insane, or becausehe uses the pretense of extreme political opinions asa cloak for criminal proclivities. This view is, ofcourse, in every way inadequate. Some Anarchistsbelieve in throwing bombs; many do not. Men ofalmost every other shade of opinion believe in throwingbombs in suitable circumstances: for example,he men who threw the bomb at Sarajevo whichstarted the present war were not Anarchists, but

Nationalists. And those Anarchists who are inavor of bomb-throwing do not in this respect differon any vital principle from the rest of the community,with the exception of that infinitesimal portionwho adopt the Tolstoyan attitude of non-resistance.Anarchists, like Socialists, usually believen the doctrine of the class war, and if they usebombs, it is as Governments use bombs, for purposesof war: but for every bomb manufactured by anAnarchist, many millions are manufactured by Governments,and for every man killed by Anarchist

violence, many millions are killed by the violence ofStates. We may, therefore, dismiss from our mindshe whole question of violence, which plays so largea part in the popular imagination, since it is neitheressential nor peculiar to those who adopt the Anarchistposition.

Anarchism, as its derivation indicates, is theheory which is opposed to every kind of forciblegovernment. It is opposed to the State as theembodiment of the force employed in the governmentof the community. Such government as Anarchismcan tolerate must be free government, not merely inhe sense that it is that of a majority, but in the sensehat it is that assented to by all. Anarchists objecto such institutions as the police and the criminalaw, by means of which the will of one part of thecommunity is forced upon another part. In theirview, the democratic form of government is not veryenormously preferable to other forms so long asminorities are compelled by force or its potentiality

o submit to the will of majorities. Liberty is thesupreme good in the Anarchist creed, and libertys sought by the direct road of abolishing all forciblecontrol over the individual by the community.

Anarchism, in this sense, is no new doctrine. Its set forth admirably by Chuang Tzu, a Chinese philosopher,who lived about the year 300 B. C.:--

Horses have hoofs to carry them over frost and snow;hair, to protect them from wind and cold. They eat grass

and drink water, and fling up their heels over the champaign.



Such is the real nature of horses. Palatialdwellings are of no use to them.

One day Po Lo appeared, saying: `Ì understand themanagement of horses.''

So he branded them, and clipped them, and paredheir hoofs, and put halters on them, tying them up byhe head and shackling them by the feet, and disposing

hem in stables, with the result that two or three inevery ten died. Then he kept them hungry and thirsty,rotting them and galloping them, and grooming, andrimming, with the misery of the tasselled bridle beforeand the fear of the knotted whip behind, until more thanhalf of them were dead.

The potter says: ̀ Ì can do what I will with Clay.f I want it round, I use compasses; if rectangular, asquare.''

The carpenter says: ̀ Ì can do what I will withwood. If I want it curved, I use an arc; if straight, ane.''

But on what grounds can we think that the naturesof clay and wood desire this application of compasses andsquare, of arc and line? Nevertheless, every age extolsPo Lo for his skill in managing horses, and potters andcarpenters for their skill with clay and wood. Thosewho govern the empire make the same mistake.

Now I regard government of the empire from quitea different point of view.

The people have certain natural instincts:--to weaveand clothe themselves, to till and feed themselves. Theseare common to all humanity, and all are agreed thereon.Such instincts are called ``Heaven-sent.''

And so in the days when natural instincts prevailed,men moved quietly and gazed steadily. At that time

here were no roads over mountains, nor boats, norbridges over water. All things were produced, each forts own proper sphere. Birds and beasts multiplied,rees and shrubs grew up. The former might be led byhe hand; you could climb up and peep into the raven'snest. For then man dwelt with birds and beasts, andall creation was one. There were no distinctions of goodand bad men. Being all equally without knowledge,heir virtue could not go astray. Being all equallywithout evil desires, they were in a state of naturalntegrity, the perfection of human existence.



But when Sages appeared, tripping up people overcharity and fettering them with duty to their neighbor,doubt found its way into the world. And then, withheir gushing over music and fussing over ceremony, theempire became divided against itself.[11]

11] ̀ `Musings of a Chinese Mystic.'' Selections from the Philosophyof Chuang Tzu. With an Introduction by Lionel Giles,

M.A. (Oxon.). Wisdom of the East Series, John Murray, 1911.Pages 66-68.

The modern Anarchism, in the sense in which weshall be concerned with it, is associated with beliefn the communal ownership of land and capital, ands thus in an important respect akin to Socialism.This doctrine is properly called Anarchist Com-munism, but as it embraces practically all modern

Anarchism, we may ignore individualist Anarchismaltogether and concentrate attention upon thecommunistic form. Socialism and Anarchist Communismalike have arisen from the perception that privatecapital is a source of tyranny by certain individualsover others. Orthodox Socialism believes that thendividual will become free if the State becomes thesole capitalist. Anarchism, on the contrary, fearshat in that case the State might merely inherit theyrannical propensities of the private capitalist.Accordingly, it seeks for a means of reconciling communalownership with the utmost possible diminutionn the powers of the State, and indeed ultimately withhe complete abolition of the State. It has arisenmainly within the Socialist movement as its extremeeft wing.

n the same sense in which Marx may be regardedas the founder of modern Socialism, Bakunin maybe regarded as the founder of Anarchist Communism.But Bakunin did not produce, like Marx, a finished

and systematic body of doctrine. The nearestapproach to this will be found in the writings of hisollower, Kropotkin. In order to explain modernAnarchism we shall begin with the life of Bakunin[12]and the history of his conflicts with Marx, and shallhen give a brief account of Anarchist theory as setorth partly in his writings, but more in those ofKropotkin.[13]

12] An account of the life of Bakunin from the Anarchiststandpoint will be found in vol. ii of the complete edition of

his works: ``Michel Bakounine, OEuvres,'' Tome II. Avec une



notice biographique, des avant-propos et des notes, par JamesGuillaume. Paris, P.-V, Stock, editeur, pp. v-lxiii.

13] Criticism of these theories will be reserved for Part II.

Michel Bakunin was born in 1814 of a Russianaristocratic family. His father was a diplomatist,who at the time of Bakunin's birth had retired to his

country estate in the Government of Tver. Bakuninentered the school of artillery in Petersburg at theage of fifteen, and at the age of eighteen was sent asan ensign to a regiment stationed in the Governmentof Minsk. The Polish insurrection of 1880 had justbeen crushed. ̀ `The spectacle of terrorized Poland,''says Guillaume, `àcted powerfully on the heart ofhe young officer, and contributed to inspire in himhe horror of despotism.'' This led him to give uphe military career after two years' trial. In 1834he resigned his commission and went to Moscow,

where he spent six years studying philosophy. Likeall philosophical students of that period, he becamea Hegelian, and in 1840 he went to Berlin to continuehis studies, in the hope of ultimately becoming aprofessor. But after this time his opinions underwenta rapid change. He found it impossible toaccept the Hegelian maxim that whatever is, isational, and in 1842 he migrated to Dresden, where

he became associated with Arnold Ruge, the publisherof ``Deutsche Jahrbuecher.'' By this time he hadbecome a revolutionary, and in the following yearhe incurred the hostility of the Saxon Government.This led him to go to Switzerland, where he came incontact with a group of German Communists, but, ashe Swiss police importuned him and the RussianGovernment demanded his return, he removed toParis, where he remained from 1843 to 1847. Theseyears in Paris were important in the formation of hisoutlook and opinions. He became acquainted withProudhon, who exercised a considerable influence onhim; also with George Sand and many other well-

known people. It was in Paris that he first madehe acquaintance of Marx and Engels, with whom hewas to carry on a lifelong battle. At a much laterperiod, in 1871, he gave the following account of hiselations with Marx at this time:--

Marx was much more advanced than I was, as heemains to-day not more advanced but incomparably moreearned than I am. I knew then nothing of politicaleconomy. I had not yet rid myself of metaphysical

abstractions, and my Socialism was only instinctive. He,



hough younger than I, was already an atheist, annstructed materialist, a well-considered Socialist. Itwas just at this time that he elaborated the first foundationsof his present system. We saw each other fairlyoften, for I respected him much for his learning and hispassionate and serious devotion (always mixed, however,with personal vanity) to the cause of the proletariat,and I sought eagerly his conversation, which was alwaysnstructive and clever, when it was not inspired by a

paltry hate, which, alas! happened only too often. Buthere was never any frank intimacy between as. Ouremperaments would not suffer it. He called me asentimental idealist, and he was right; I called him avain man, perfidious and crafty, and I also was right.

Bakunin never succeeded in staying long in oneplace without incurring the enmity of the authorities.n November, 1847, as the result of a speechpraising the Polish rising of 1830, he was expelled

rom France at the request of the Russian Embassy,which, in order to rob him of public sympathy, spreadhe unfounded report that he had been an agent ofhe Russian Government, but was no longer wantedbecause he had gone too far. The French Government,by calculated reticence, encouraged this story,which clung to him more or less throughout his life.

Being compelled to leave France, he went toBrussels, where he renewed acquaintance with Marx.A letter of his, written at this time, shows that heentertained already that bitter hatred for whichafterward he had so much reason. ``The Germans,artisans, Bornstedt, Marx and Engels--and, aboveall, Marx--are here, doing their ordinary mischief.Vanity, spite, gossip, theoretical overbearingnessand practical pusillanimity--reflections on life, actionand simplicity, and complete absence of life,action and simplicity--literary and argumentativeartisans and repulsive coquetry with them: `Feuerbachs a bourgeois,' and the word `bourgeois' grown

nto an epithet and repeated ad nauseum, but all ofhem themselves from head to foot, through andhrough, provincial bourgeois. With one word, lyingand stupidity, stupidity and lying. In this societyhere is no possibility of drawing a free, full breath.hold myself aloof from them, and have declared

quite decidedly that I will not join their communisticunion of artisans, and will have nothing to dowith it.''

The Revolution of 1848 led him to return to Paris

and thence to Germany. He had a quarrel with



Marx over a matter in which he himself confessedater that Marx was in the right. He became a memberof the Slav Congress in Prague, where he vainlyendeavored to promote a Slav insurrection. Towardhe end of 1848, he wrote an `Àppeal to Slavs,''calling on them to combine with other revolutionarieso destroy the three oppressive monarchies, Russia,Austria and Prussia. Marx attacked him in print,saying, in effect, that the movement for Bohemian

ndependence was futile because the Slavs had nouture, at any rate in those regions where they hap-pened to be subject to Germany and Austria.Bakunin accused Mars of German patriotism inhis matter, and Marx accused him of Pan-Slavism,no doubt in both cases justly. Before this dispute,however, a much more serious quarrel had takenplace. Marx's paper, the ``Neue Rheinische Zeitung,''stated that George Sand had papers provingBakunin to be a Russian Government agent and oneof those responsible for the recent arrest of Poles.

Bakunin, of course, repudiated the charge, andGeorge Sand wrote to the ``Neue RheinischeZeitung,'' denying this statement in toto. The denialswere published by Marx, and there was a nominaleconciliation, but from this time onward there was

never any real abatement of the hostility betweenhese rival leaders, who did not meet again until 1864.

Meanwhile, the reaction had been everywheregaining ground. In May, 1849, an insurrection inDresden for a moment made the revolutionaries mastersof the town. They held it for five days andestablished a revolutionary government. Bakuninwas the soul of the defense which they made againsthe Prussian troops. But they were overpowered,and at last Bakunin was captured while trying toescape with Heubner and Richard Wagner, the lastof whom, fortunately for music, was not captured.

Now began a long period of imprisonment inmany prisons and various countries. Bakunin was

sentenced to death on the 14th of January, 1850, buthis sentence was commuted after five months, and hewas delivered over to Austria, which claimed theprivilege of punishing him. The Austrians, in theirurn, condemned him to death in May, 1851, andagain his sentence was commuted to imprisonment forfe. In the Austrian prisons he had fetters on hands

and feet, and in one of them he was even chained to thewall by the belt. There seems to have been somepeculiar pleasure to be derived from the punishmentof Bakunin, for the Russian Government in its turn

demanded him of the Austrians, who delivered him



up. In Russia he was confined, first in the Peter andPaul fortress and then in the Schluesselburg. Therebe suffered from scurvy and all his teeth fell out.His health gave way completely, and he found almostall food impossible to assimilate. ``But, if his bodybecame enfeebled, his spirit remained inflexible. Heeared one thing above all. It was to find himselfsome day led, by the debilitating action of prison,o the condition of degradation of which Silvio Pellico

offers a well-known type. He feared that he mightcease to hate, that he might feel the sentiment ofevolt which upheld him becoming extinguished in

his hearts that he might come to pardon his persecutorsand resign himself to his fate. But this fearwas superfluous; his energy did not abandon him asingle day, and he emerged from his cell the sameman as when he entered.''[14]

14] Ibid. p. xxvi.

After the death of the Tsar Nicholas many politicalprisoners were amnested, but Alexander II withhis own hand erased Bakunin's name from the list.When Bakunin's mother succeeded in obtaining annterview with the new Tsar, he said to her, ``Know,Madame, that so long as your son lives, he can neverbe free.'' However, in 1857, after eight years ofcaptivity, he was sent to the comparative freedom ofSiberia. From there, in 1861, he succeeded in escapingo Japan, and thence through America to London.He had been imprisoned for his hostility togovernments, but, strange to say, his sufferings hadnot had the intended effect of making him love thosewho inflicted them. From this time onward, hedevoted himself to spreading the spirit of Anarchistevolt, without, however, having to suffer any furthererm of imprisonment. For some years he lived intaly, where he founded in 1864 an ̀ ÌnternationalFraternity'' or ̀ Àlliance of Socialist Revolutionaries.''

This contained men of many countries, butapparently no Germans. It devoted itself largely tocombating Mazzini's nationalism. In 1867 he movedo Switzerland, where in the following year hehelped to found the `Ìnternational Alliance of So-cialist Democracy,'' of which he drew up the program.This program gives a good succinct resume ofhis opinions:--

The Alliance declares itself atheist; it desires the

definitive and entire abolition of classes and the political



equality and social equalization of individuals of bothsexes. It desires that the earth, the instrument of labor,ke all other capital, becoming the collective property of

society as a whole, shall be no longer able to be utilizedexcept by the workers, that is to say, by agricultural andndustrial associations. It recognizes that all actuallyexisting political and authoritarian States, reducinghemselves more and more to the mere administrative functionsof the public services in their respective countries,

must disappear in the universal union of freeassociations, both agricultural and industrial.

The International Alliance of Socialist Democracydesired to become a branch of the InternationalWorking Men's Association, but was refused admissionon the ground that branches must be local, andcould not themselves be international. The Genevagroup of the Alliance, however, was admitted later,n July, 1869.

The International Working Men's Associationhad been founded in London in 1864, and its statutesand program were drawn up by Marx. Bakunin atirst did not expect it to prove a success and refusedo join it. But it spread with remarkable rapidityn many countries and soon became a great poweror the propagation of Socialist ideas. Originallyt was by no means wholly Socialist, but in successiveCongresses Marx won it over more and more to hisviews. At its third Congress, in Brussels in September,868, it became definitely Socialist. Meanwhile

Bakunin, regretting his earlier abstention, haddecided to join it, and he brought with him aconsiderable following in French-Switzerland, France,Spain and Italy. At the fourth Congress, held atBasle in September, 1869, two currents were stronglymarked. The Germans and English followed Marxn his belief in the State as it was to become after theabolition of private property; they followed him alson his desire to found Labor Parties in the various

countries, and to utilize the machinery of democracyor the election oœ representatives of Labor toParliaments. On the other hand, the Latin nations inhe main followed Bakunin in opposing the State anddisbelieving in the machinery of representativegovernment. The conflict between these two groups grewmore and more bitter, and each accused the otherof various offenses. The statement that Bakuninwas a spy was repeated, but was withdrawn afternvestigation. Marx wrote in a confidentialcommunication to his German friends that Bakunin was

an agent of the Pan-Slavist party and received from



hem 25,000 francs a year. Meanwhile, Bakuninbecame for a time interested in the attempt to stirup an agrarian revolt in Russia, and this led himo neglect the contest in the International at a crucialmoment. During the Franco-Prussian war Bakuninpassionately took the side of France, especially afterhe fall of Napoleon III. He endeavored to rousehe people to revolutionary resistance like that of793, and became involved in an abortive attempt at

evolt in Lyons. The French Government accusedhim of being a paid agent of Prussia, and it waswith difficulty that he escaped to Switzerland. Thedispute with Marx and his followers had becomeexacerbated by the national dispute. Bakunin, likeKropotkin after him, regarded the new power ofGermany as the greatest menace to liberty in theworld. He hated the Germans with a bitter hatred,partly, no doubt, on account of Bismarck, but probablystill more on account of Marx. To this day,Anarchism has remained confined almost exclusively

o the Latin countries, and has been associated with, ahatred of Germany, growing out of the contestsbetween Marx and Bakunin in the International.

The final suppression of Bakunin's factionoccurred at the General Congress of the Internationalat the Hague in 1872. The meeting-place waschosen by the General Council (in which Marx wasunopposed), with a view--so Bakunin's friends contend--o making access impossible for Bakunin (onaccount of the hostility of the French and Germangovernments) and difficult for his friends. Bakuninwas expelled from the International as the result ofa report accusing him inter alia of theft backed; upby intimidation.

The orthodoxy of the International was saved,but at the cost of its vitality. From this time onward,t ceased to be itself a power, but both sections continuedo work in their various groups, and the Socialistgroups in particular grew rapidly. Ultimately

a new International was formed (1889) which continueddown to the outbreak of the present war. Aso the future of International Socialism it would beash to prophesy, though it would seem that thenternational idea has acquired sufficient strength toneed again, after the war, some such means of expressionas it found before in Socialist congresses.

By this time Bakunin's health was broken, andexcept for a few brief intervals, he lived in retirementuntil his death in 1876.



Bakunin's life, unlike Marx's, was a very stormyone. Every kind of rebellion against authorityalways aroused his sympathy, and in his support henever paid the slightest attention to personal risk.His influence, undoubtedly very great, arose chieflyhrough the influence of his personality upon importantndividuals. His writings differ from Marx's asmuch as his life does, and in a similar way. They arechaotic, largely, aroused by some passing occasion,

abstract and metaphysical, except when they dealwith current politics. He does not come to closequarters with economic facts, but dwells usually inhe regions of theory and metaphysics. When hedescends from these regions, he is much more at themercy of current international politics than Marx,much less imbued with the consequences of the beliefhat it is economic causes that are fundamental. Hepraised Marx for enunciating this doctrine,[15] butnevertheless continued to think in terms of nations.His longest work, ̀ `L'Empire Knouto-Germanique et

a Revolution Sociale,'' is mainly concerned with thesituation in France during the later stages of theFranco-Prussian War, and with the means of resistingGerman imperialism. Most of his writing wasdone in a hurry in the interval between two insurrections.There is something of Anarchism in his lackof literary order. His best-known work is a fragmententitled by its editors ̀ `God and the State.''[16]

n this work he represents belief in God and belief inhe State as the two great obstacles to human liberty.A typical passage will serve to illustrate its style.

15] ``Marx, as a thinker, is on the right road. He has establishedas a principle that all the evolutions, political, religious,and juridical, in history are, not the causes, but the effects ofeconomic evolutions. This is a great and fruitful thought, whichhe has not absolutely invented; it has been glimpsed, expressedn part, by many others besides him; but in any case to him

belongs the honor of having solidly established it and of havingenunciated it as the basis of his whole economic system. (1870;b. ii. p. xiii.)

16] This title is not Bakunin's, but was invented by Cafieroand Elisee Reclus, who edited it, not knowing that it was aragment of what was intended to he the second version of`L'Empire Knouto-Germanique'' (see ib. ii. p 283).

The State is not society, it is only an historical form



of it, as brutal as it is abstract. It was born historicallyn all countries of the marriage of violence, rapine, pillage,n a word, war and conquest, with the gods successivelycreated by the theological fantasy of nations.t has been from its origin, and it remains still at present,he divine sanction of brutal force and triumphantnequality.

The State is authority; it is force; it is the ostentation

and infatuation of force: it does not insinuatetself; it does not seek to convert. . . . Even whent commands what is good, it hinders and spoils it, justbecause it commands it, and because every command provokesand excites the legitimate revolts of liberty; andbecause the good, from the moment that it is commanded,becomes evil from the point of view of true morality, ofhuman morality (doubtless not of divine), from the pointof view of human respect and of liberty. Liberty, morality,and the human dignity of man consist preciselyn this, that he does good, not because it is commanded,

but because he conceives it, wills it and loves it.

We do not find in Bakunin's works a clear pictureof the society at which he aimed, or any argumento prove that such a society could be stable.f we wish to understand Anarchism we must turno his followers, and especially to Kropotkin--likehim, a Russian aristocrat familiar with the prisonsof Europe, and, like him, an Anarchist who, in spiteof his internationalism, is imbued with a fiery hatredof the Germans.

Kropotkin has devoted much of his writing toechnical questions of production. In ``Fields,Factories and Workshops'' and ``The Conquest ofBread'' he has set himself to prove that, if productionwere more scientific and better organized, acomparatively small amount of quite agreeable workwould suffice to keep the whole population in comfort.Even assuming, as we probably must, that he

somewhat exaggerates what is possible with ourpresent scientific knowledge, it must nevertheless beconceded that his contentions contain a very largemeasure of truth. In attacking the subject of productionhe has shown that he knows what is the reallycrucial question. If civilization and progress are tobe compatible with equality, it is necessary thatequality should not involve long hours of painfuloil for little more than the necessaries of life, since,where there is no leisure, art and science will die andall progress will become impossible. The objection

which some feel to Socialism and Anarchism alike on



his ground cannot be upheld in view of the possibleproductivity of labor.

The system at which Kropotkin aims, whether ornot it be possible, is certainly one which demands avery great improvement in the methods of productionabove what is common at present. He desireso abolish wholly the system of wages, not only, asmost Socialists do, in the sense that a man is to be

paid rather for his willingness to work than for theactual work demanded of him, but in a more fundamentalsense: there is to be no obligation to work,and all things are to be shared in equal proportionsamong the whole population. Kropotkin relies uponhe possibility of making work pleasant: he holdshat, in such a community as he foresees, practicallyeveryone will prefer work to idleness, because work willnot involve overwork or slavery, or that excessivespecialization that industrialism has brought about,but will be merely a pleasant activity for certain

hours of the day, giving a man an outlet for hisspontaneous constructive impulses. There is to be nocompulsion, no law, no government exercising force;here will still be acts of the community, but theseare to spring from universal consent, not from anyenforced submission of even the smallest minority.We shall examine in a later chapter how far suchan ideal is realizable, but it cannot be denied thatKropotkin presents it with extraordinary persuasivenessand charm.

We should be doing more than justice to Anarchismf we did not say something of its darker side,he side which has brought it into conflict with thepolice and made it a word of terror to ordinary citizens.n its general doctrines there is nothing essentiallynvolving violent methods or a virulent hatredof the rich, and many who adopt these general doctrinesare personally gentle and temperamentallyaverse from violence. But the general tone of theAnarchist press and public is bitter to a degree that

seems scarcely sane, and the appeal, especially inLatin countries, is rather to envy of the fortunatehan to pity for the unfortunate. A vivid and readable,hough not wholly reliable, account, from ahostile point of view, is given in a book called ``LePeril Anarchiste,'' by Felix Dubois,[17] whichncidentally reproduces a number of cartoons from anarchistournals. The revolt against law naturally leads,except in those who are controlled by a real passionor humanity, to a relaxation of all the usuallyaccepted moral rules, and to a bitter spirit of

etaliatory cruelty out of which good can hardly come.



17] Paris, 1894.

One of the most curious features of popularAnarchism is its martyrology, aping Christian forms,with the guillotine (in France) in place of the cross.Many who have suffered death at the hands of the

authorities on account of acts of violence were nodoubt genuine sufferers for their belief in a cause,but others, equally honored, are more questionable.One of the most curious examples of this outlet forhe repressed religious impulse is the cult of Ravachol,who was guillotined in 1892 on account ofvarious dynamite outrages. His past was dubious,but he died defiantly; his last words were three linesrom a well-known Anarchist song, the ``Chant duPere Duchesne'':--

Si tu veux etre heureux,Nom de Dieu!

Pends ton proprietaire.

As was natural, the leading Anarchists took no partn the canonization of his memory; nevertheless itproceeded, with the most amazing extravagances.

t would be wholly unfair to judge Anarchistdoctrine, or the views of its leading exponents, bysuch phenomena; but it remains a fact that Anarchismattracts to itself much that lies on the borderlandof insanity and common crime.[18] This must beemembered in exculpation of the authorities andhe thoughtless public, who often confound in a commondetestation the parasites of the movement andhe truly heroic and high-minded men who have elaboratedts theories and sacrificed comfort and successo their propagation.

18] The attitude of all the better Anarchists is that expressedby L. S. Bevington in the words: `Òf course we know thatamong those who call themselves Anarchists there are a minorityof unbalanced enthusiasts who look upon every illegal and sensationalact of violence as a matter for hysterical jubilation.Very useful to the police and the press, unsteady in intellectand of weak moral principle, they have repeatedly shown themselvesaccessible to venal considerations. They, and their violence,and their professed Anarchism are purchasable, and inhe last resort they are welcome and efficient partisans of thebourgeoisie in its remorseless war against the deliverers of the

people.'' His conclusion is a very wise one: ̀ `Let us leave



ndiscriminate killing and injuring to the Government--to itsStatesmen, its Stockbrokers, its Officers, and its Law.'' (`Ànarchismand Violence,'' pp. 9-10. Liberty Press, Chiswick, 1896.)

The terrorist campaign in which such men asRavachol were active practically came to an end in894. After that time, under the influence of Pelloutier,he better sort of Anarchists found a less

harmful outlet by advocating Revolutionary Syndicalismn the Trade Unions and Bourses du Travail.[19]

19] See next Chapter.

The ECONOMIC organization of society, as conceivedby Anarchist Communists, does not differgreatly from that which is sought by Socialists.Their difference from Socialists is in the matter of

government: they demand that government shallequire the consent of all the governed, and not only

of a majority. It is undeniable that the rule of amajority may be almost as hostile to freedom as theule of a minority: the divine right of majorities is a

dogma as little possessed of absolute truth as anyother. A strong democratic State may easily be lednto oppression of its best citizens, namely, thosehose independence of mind would make them a forceor progress. Experience of democratic parliamentarygovernment has shown that it falls very farshort of what was expected of it by early Socialists,and the Anarchist revolt against it is not surprising.But in the form of pure Anarchism, this revolt hasemained weak and sporadic. It is Syndicalism, andhe movements to which Syndicalism has given rise,hat have popularized the revolt against parliamentarygovernment and purely political means of emancipatinghe wage earner. But this movement mustbe dealt with in a separate chapter.

CHAPTER III

THE SYNDICALIST REVOLT

SYNDICALISM arose in France as a revolt againstpolitical Socialism, and in order to understand itwe must trace in brief outline the positions attainedby Socialist parties in the various countries.



After a severe setback, caused by the Franco-Prussian war, Socialism gradually revived, and in allhe countries of Western Europe Socialist partieshave increased their numerical strength almostcontinuously during the last forty years; but, as isnvariably the case with a growing sect, the intensityof faith has diminished as the number of believershas increased.

n Germany the Socialist party became thestrongest faction of the Reichstag, and, in spite ofdifferences of opinion among its members, it preservedts formal unity with that instinct for militarydiscipline which characterizes the German nation.n the Reichstag election of 1912 it polled a thirdof the total number of votes cast, and returned 110members out of a total of 397. After the death ofBebel, the Revisionists, who received their firstmpulse from Bernstein, overcame the more strictMarxians, and the party became in effect merely one

of advanced Radicalism. It is too soon to guess whatwill be the effect of the split between Majority andMinority Socialists which has occurred during thewar. There is in Germany hardly a trace of Syndicalism;ts characteristic doctrine, the preference ofndustrial to political action, has found scarcelyany support.

n England Marx has never had many followers.Socialism there has been inspired in the main by theFabians (founded in 1883), who threw over theadvocacy of revolution, the Marxian doctrine ofvalue, and the class-war. What remained was StateSocialism and a doctrine of ``permeation.'' Civilservants were to be permeated with the realizationhat Socialism would enormously increase theirpower. Trade Unions were to be permeated with thebelief that the day for purely industrial action waspast, and that they must look to government (inspiredsecretly by sympathetic civil servants) to bringabout, bit by bit, such parts of the Socialist program

as were not likely to rouse much hostility in the rich.The Independent Labor Party (formed in 1893) wasargely inspired at first by the ideas of the Fabians,hough retaining to the present day, and especiallysince the outbreak of the war, much more of theoriginal Socialist ardor. It aimed always atco-operation with the industrial organizations ofwage-earners, and, chiefly through its efforts, theLabor Party[20] was formed in 1900 out of acombination of the Trade Unions and the politicalSocialists. To this party, since 1909, all the important

Unions have belonged, but in spite of the fact



hat its strength is derived from Trade Unions, ithas stood always for political rather than industrialaction. Its Socialism has been of a theoretical andacademic order, and in practice, until the outbreakof war, the Labor members in Parliament (of whom30 were elected in 1906 and 42 in December, 1910)might be reckoned almost as a part of the LiberalParty.

20] Of which the Independent Labor Party is only a section.

France, unlike England and Germany, was notcontent merely to repeat the old shibboleths withcontinually diminishing conviction. In France[21] a newmovement, originally known as RevolutionarySyndicalism--and afterward simply as Syndicalism--kept alive the vigor of the original impulse, andemained true to the spirit of the older Socialists,

while departing from the letter. Syndicalism, unlikeSocialism and Anarchism, began from an existingorganization and developed the ideas appropriateo it, whereas Socialism and Anarchism began withhe ideas and only afterward developed the organizationswhich were their vehicle. In order to understandSyndicalism, we have first to describe TradeUnion organization in France, and its politicalenvironment. The ideas of Syndicalism will thenappear as the natural outcome of the political andeconomic situation. Hardly any of these ideas arenew; almost all are derived from the Bakunist sectionof the old International.[21] The old Internationalhad considerable success in France before the Franco-Prussian War; indeed, in 1869, it is estimated tohave had a French membership of a quarter of a million.What is practically the Syndicalist programwas advocated by a French delegate to the Congressof the International at Bale in that same year.[22]

20] And also in Italy. A good, short account of the Italianmovement is given by A. Lanzillo, ``Le Mouvement Ouvrier entalie,'' Bibliotheque du Mouvement Proletarien. See also PaulLouis, ̀ `Le Syndicalisme Europeen,'' chap. vi. On the otherhand Cole (``World of Labour,'' chap. vi) considers the strengthof genuine Syndicalism in Italy to be small.

21] This is often recognized by Syndicalists themselves. See,e.g., an article on ``The Old International'' in the Syndicalistof February, 1913, which, after giving an account of the strugglebetween Marx and Bakunin from the standpoint of a sympathizer

with the latter, says: ̀ `Bakounin's ideas are now more alive



han ever.''

22] See pp. 42-43, and 160 of ``Syndicalism in France,'' LouisLevine, Ph.D. (Columbia University Studies in Political Science,vol. xlvi, No. 3.) This is a very objective and reliable accountof the origin and progress of French Syndicalism. An admirableshort discussion of its ideas and its present position will beound in Cole's ̀ `World of Labour'' (G. Bell & Sons), especiallychapters iii, iv, and xi.

The war of 1870 put an end for the time beingo the Socialist Movement in France. Its revivalwas begun by Jules Guesde in 1877. Unlike the Ger-man Socialists, the French have been split into manydifferent factions. In the early eighties there was asplit between the Parliamentary Socialists and theCommunist Anarchists. The latter thought that theirst act of the Social Revolution should be thedestruction of the State, and would therefore have

nothing to do with Parliamentary politics. TheAnarchists, from 1883 onward, had success in Parisand the South. The Socialists contended that theState will disappear after the Socialist society hasbeen firmly established. In 1882 the Socialists splitbetween the followers of Guesde, who claimed to representhe revolutionary and scientific Socialism ofMarx, and the followers of Paul Brousse, who weremore opportunist and were also called possibilistsand cared little for the theories of Marx. In 1890here was a secession from the Broussists, who followedAllemane and absorbed the more revolutionaryelements of the party and became leading spirits insome of the strongest syndicates. Another groupwas the Independent Socialists, among whom wereJaures, Millerand and Viviani.[23]

23] See Levine, op. cit., chap. ii.

The disputes between the various sections ofSocialists caused difficulties in the Trade Unions andhelped to bring about the resolution to keep politicsout of the Unions. From this to Syndicalism wasan easy step.

Since the year 1905, as the result of a unionbetween the Parti Socialiste de France (Part; OuvrierSocialiste Revolutionnaire Francais led byGuesde) and the Parti Socialiste Francais (Jaures),here have been only two groups of Socialists, the

United Socialist Party and the Independents, who



are intellectuals or not willing to be tied to a party.At the General Election of 1914 the former secured02 members and the latter 30, out of a total of 590.

Tendencies toward a rapprochement between thevarious groups were seriously interfered with by anevent which had considerable importance for thewhole development of advanced political ideas inFrance, namely, the acceptance of office in the Waldeck-

Rousseau Ministry by the Socialist Millerandn 1899. Millerand, as was to be expected, soonceased to be a Socialist, and the opponents of politicalaction pointed to his development as showinghe vanity of political triumphs. Very many Frenchpoliticians who have risen to power have begun theirpolitical career as Socialists, and have ended it notnfrequently by employing the army to oppressstrikers. Millerand's action was the most notableand dramatic among a number of others of a similarkind. Their cumulative effect has been to produce a

certain cynicism in regard to politics among the moreclass-conscious of French wage-earners, and thisstate of mind greatly assisted the spread of Syndicalism.

Syndicalism stands essentially for the point ofview of the producer as opposed to that of the consumer;t is concerned with reforming actual work,and the organization of industry, not MERELY withsecuring greater rewards for work. From this pointof view its vigor and its distinctive character arederived. It aims at substituting industrial for politicalaction, and at using Trade Union organizationor purposes for which orthodox Socialism wouldook to Parliament. ̀ `Syndicalism'' was originallyonly the French name for Trade Unionism, but theTrade Unionists of France became divided into twosections, the Reformist and the Revolutionary, ofwhom the latter only professed the ideas which wenow associate with the term ``Syndicalism.'' It isquite impossible to guess how far either the organizationor the ideas of the Syndicalists will remain intact

at the end of the war, and everything that we shall says to be taken as applying only to the years beforehe war. It may be that French Syndicalism as adistinctive movement will be dead, but even in thatcase it will not have lost its importance, since it hasgiven a new impulse and direction to the more vigorouspart of the labor movement in all civilized countries,with the possible exception of Germany.

The organization upon which Syndicalism de-pended was the Confederation Generale du Travail,

commonly known as the C. G. T., which was founded



n 1895, but only achieved its final form in 1902. Ithas never been numerically very powerful, but hasderived its influence from the fact that in momentsof crisis many who were not members were willingo follow its guidance. Its membership in the yearbefore the war is estimated by Mr. Cole at somewhatmore than half a million. Trade Unions (Syndicats)were legalized by Waldeck-Rousseau in 1884,and the C. G. T., on its inauguration in 1895, was

ormed by the Federation of 700 Syndicats. Alongsideof this organization there existed another, theFederation des Bourses du Travail, formed in 1893.A Bourse du Travail is a local organization, not ofany one trade, but of local labor in general, intendedo serve as a Labor Exchange and to perform suchunctions for labor as Chambers of Commerce performor the employer.[24] A Syndicat is in generala local organization of a single industry, and is thusa smaller unit than the Bourse du Travail.[25] Underhe able leadership of Pelloutier, the Federation des

Bourses prospered more than the C. G. T., and atast, in 1902, coalesced with it. The result was anorganization in which the local Syndicat was fed-erated twice over, once with the other Syndicat ints locality, forming together the local Bourse duTravail, and again with the Syndicats in the samendustry in other places. `Ìt was the purpose of thenew organization to secure twice over the membershipof every syndicat, to get it to join both its localBourse du Travail and the Federation of its industry.The Statutes of the C. G. T. (I. 3) put this pointplainly: `No Syndicat will be able to form a part ofhe C. G. T. if it is not federated nationally and anadherent of a Bourse du Travail or a local or departmentalUnion of Syndicats grouping different associations.'Thus, M. Lagardelle explains, the two sectionswill correct each other's point of view: nationalederation of industries will prevent parochialismlocalisme), and local organization will check the

corporate or ̀ Trade Union' spirit. The workers willearn at once the solidarity of all workers in a locality

and that of all workers in a trade, and, in learninghis, they will learn at the same time the completesolidarity of the whole working-class.''[26]

24] Cole, ib., p. 65.

25] ``Syndicat in France still means a local union--there areat the present day only four national syndicats'' (ib., p. 66).

26] Cole, ib. p. 69.



This organization was largely the work of Pellouties,who was Secretary of the Federation des Boursesrom 1894 until his death in 1901. He was an AnarchistCommunist and impressed his ideas upon theFederation and thence posthumously on the C. G. T.after its combination with the Federation desBourses. He even carried his principles into thegovernment of the Federation; the Committee had

no chairman and votes very rarely took place. Hestated that ``the task of the revolution is to freemankind, not only from all authority, but also fromevery institution which has not for its essential purposehe development of production.''

The C. G. T. allows much autonomy to each unitn the organization. Each Syndicat counts for one,whether it be large or small. There are not theriendly society activities which form so large a partof the work of English Unions. It gives no orders,

but is purely advisory. It does not allow politicso be introduced into the Unions. This decision wasoriginally based upon the fact that the divisionsamong Socialists disrupted the Unions, but it is noweinforced in the minds of an important section byhe general Anarchist dislike of politics. The C. G.T. is essentially a fighting organization; in strikes, its the nucleus to which the other workers rally.

There is a Reformist section in the C. G. T., butt is practically always in a minority, and the C. G.T. is, to all intents and purposes, the organ ofevolutionary Syndicalism, which is simply the creed

of its leaders.

The essential doctrine of Syndicalism is the class-war, to be conducted by industrial rather than politi-cal methods. The chief industrial methods advocatedare the strike, the boycott, the label and sabotage.

The boycott, in various forms, and the label,

showing that the work has been done under trade-union conditions, have played a considerable partn American labor struggles.

Sabotage is the practice of doing bad work, orspoiling machinery or work which has already beendone, as a method of dealing with employers in adispute when a strike appears for some reasonundesirable or impossible. It has many forms, someclearly innocent, some open to grave objections. Oneorm of sabotage which has been adopted by shop

assistants is to tell customers the truth about the



articles they are buying; this form, however it maydamage the shopkeeper's business, is not easy toobject to on moral grounds. A form which has beenadopted on railways, particularly in Italian strikes,s that of obeying all rules literally and exactly, insuch a way as to make the running of trains practicallympossible. Another form is to do all thework with minute care, so that in the end it is betterdone, but the output is small. From these innocent

orms there is a continual progression, until we comeo such acts as all ordinary morality would considercriminal; for example, causing railway accidents.Advocates of sabotage justify it as part ofwar, but in its more violent forms (in which it isseldom defended) it is cruel and probably inexpedient,while even in its milder forms it must tend to encourageslovenly habits of work, which might easily persistunder the new regime that the Syndicalists wisho introduce. At the same time, when capitalistsexpress a moral horror of this method, it is worth

while to observe that they themselves are the firsto practice it when the occasion seems to them appropriate.f report speaks truly, an example of thison a very large scale has been seen during the RussianRevolution.

By far the most important of the Syndicalistmethods is the strike. Ordinary strikes, for specificobjects, are regarded as rehearsals, as a means ofperfecting organization and promoting enthusiasm,but even when they are victorious so far as concernshe specific point in dispute, they are not regardedby Syndicalists as affording any ground for industrialpeace. Syndicalists aim at using the strike,not to secure such improvements of detail as employersmay grant, but to destroy the whole system ofemployer and employed and win the complete emancipationof the worker. For this purpose what iswanted is the General Strike, the complete cessationof work by a sufficient proportion of the wage-earnerso secure the paralysis of capitalism. Sorel, who

epresents Syndicalism too much in the minds of theeading public, suggests that the General Strike is tobe regarded as a myth, like the Second Coming inChristian doctrine. But this view by no means suitshe active Syndicalists. If they were brought tobelieve that the General Strike is a mere myth, theirenergy would flag, and their whole outlook wouldbecome disillusioned. It is the actual, vivid beliefn its possibility which inspires them. They are muchcriticised for this belief by the political Socialistswho consider that the battle is to be won by obtaining

a Parliamentary majority. But Syndicalists have



oo little faith in the honesty of politicians to placeany reliance on such a method or to believe in thevalue of any revolution which leaves the power of theState intact.

Syndicalist aims are somewhat less definite thanSyndicalist methods. The intellectuals who endeavoro interpret them--not always very faithfully--epresent them as a party of movement and change,

ollowing a Bergsonian elan vital, without needingany very clear prevision of the goal to which it is toake them. Nevertheless, the negative part, at anyate, of their objects is sufficiently clear.

They wish to destroy the State, which theyegard as a capitalist institution, designed essentiallyo terrorize the workers. They refuse tobelieve that it would be any better under State Socialism.They desire to see each industry self-governing,but as to the means of adjusting the relations between

different industries, they are not very clear. Theyare anti-militarist because they are anti-State, andbecause French troops have often been employedagainst them in strikes; also because they arenternationalists, who believe that the sole interest of theworking man everywhere is to free himself from theyranny of the capitalist. Their outlook on life ishe very reverse of pacifist, but they oppose warsbetween States on the ground that these are notought for objects that in any way concern theworkers. Their anti-militarism, more than anythingelse, brought them into conflict with the authoritiesn the years preceding the war. But, as was to beexpected, it did not survive the actual invasion ofFrance.

The doctrines of Syndicalism may be illustratedby an article introducing it to English readers inhe first number of ``The Syndicalist Railwayman,''September, 1911, from which the following is quoted:--

Àll Syndicalism, Collectivism, Anarchism aims atabolishing the present economic status and existing privateownership of most things; but while Collectivismwould substitute ownership by everybody, and Anarchismownership by nobody, Syndicalism aims at ownership byOrganized Labor. It is thus a purely Trade Unioneading of the economic doctrine and the class war

preached by Socialism. It vehemently repudiates Parliamentaryaction on which Collectivism relies; and it is,n this respect, much more closely allied to Anarchism,

rom which, indeed, it differs in practice only in being



more limited in range of action.'' (Times, Aug. 25, 1911).

n truth, so thin is the partition between Syndicalismand Anarchism that the newer and less familiar ̀ ìsm''has been shrewdly defined as `Òrganized Anarchy.'' Ithas been created by the Trade Unions of France; but its obviously an international plant, whose roots havealready found the soil of Britain most congenial to itsgrowth and fructification.

Collectivist or Marxian Socialism would have us believehat it is distinctly a LABOR Movement; but it isnot so. Neither is Anarchism. The one is substantiallybourgeois; the other aristocratic, plus an abundant outputof book-learning, in either case. Syndicalism, on the contrary,s indubitably laborist in origin and aim, owingnext to nothing to the ``Classes,'' and, indeed,, resolute touproot them. The Times (Oct. 13, 1910), which almostsingle-handed in the British Press has kept creditablyabreast of Continental Syndicalism, thus clearly set forth

he significance of the General Strike:

`To understand what it means, we must rememberhat there is in France a powerful Labor Organizationwhich has for its open and avowed object a Revolution,n which not only the present order of Society, but theState itself, is to be swept away. This movement is calledSyndicalism. It is not Socialism, but, on the contrary,adically opposed to Socialism, because the Syndicalists

hold that the State is the great enemy and that theSocialists' ideal of State or Collectivist Ownership wouldmake the lot of the Workers much worse than it is nowunder private employers. The means by which they hopeo attain their end is the General Strike, an idea whichwas invented by a French workman about twenty yearsago,[27] and was adopted by the French Labor Congress in894, after a furious battle with the Socialists, in which

he latter were worsted. Since then the General Strikehas been the avowed policy of the Syndicalists, whoseorganization is the Confederation Generale du Travail.''

27] In fact the General Strike was invented by a LondonerWilliam Benbow, an Owenite, in 1831.

Or, to put it otherwise, the intelligent French workerhas awakened, as he believes, to the fact that SocietySocietas) and the State (Civitas) connote two separable

spheres of human activity, between which there is noconnection, necessary or desirable. Without the one, man,

being a gregarious animal, cannot subsist: while without



he other he would simply be in clover. The ``statesman''whom office does not render positively nefariouss at best an expensive superfluity.

Syndicalists have had many violent encounterswith the forces of government. In 1907 and 1908,protesting against bloodshed which had occurred inhe suppression of strikes, the Committee of the C.

G. T. issued manifestoes speaking of the Governmentas ̀ à Government of assassins'' and alludingo the Prime Minister as ``Clemenceau the murderer.''Similar events in the strike at Villeneuve St. Georgesn 1908 led to the arrest of all the leading membersof the Committee. In the railway strike of October,910, Monsieur Briand arrested the Strike Committee,

mobilized the railway men and sent soldierso replace strikers. As a result of these vigorousmeasures the strike was completely defeated, andafter this the chief energy of the C. G. T. was directed

against militarism and nationalism.

The attitude of Anarchism to the Syndicalistmovement is sympathetic, with the reservation thatsuch methods as the General Strike are not to beegarded as substitutes for the violent revolution

which most Anarchists consider necessary. Theirattitude in this matter was defined at the InternationalAnarchist Congress held in Amsterdam inAugust, 1907. This Congress recommended ``comradesof all countries to actively participate in autonomousmovements of the working class, and todevelop in Syndicalist organizations the ideas ofevolt, individual initiative and solidarity, which arehe essence of Anarchism.'' Comrades were to`propagate and support only those forms and manifestations

of direct action which carry, in themselves,a revolutionary character and lead to theransformation of society.'' It was resolved that`the Anarchists think that the destruction of the

capitalist and authoritary society can only be realized

by armed insurrection and violent expropriation,and that the use of the more or less General Strikeand the Syndicalist movement must not make usorget the more direct means of struggle againsthe military force of government.''

Syndicalists might retort that when the movements strong enough to win by armed insurrectiont will be abundantly strong enough to win by theGeneral Strike. In Labor movements generally, successhrough violence can hardly be expected except

n circumstances where success without violence is



attainable. This argument alone, even if there wereno other, would be a very powerful reason againsthe methods advocated by the Anarchist Congress.

Syndicalism stands for what is known as industrialunionism as opposed to craft unionism. In thisespect, as also in the preference of industrial to

political methods, it is part of a movement whichhas spread far beyond France. The distinction

between industrial and craft unionism is much dwelton by Mr. Cole. Craft unionism `ùnites in a singleassociation those workers who are engaged on a singlendustrial process, or on processes so nearly akinhat any one can do another's work.'' But `òrganizationmay follow the lines, not of the work done,but of the actual structure of industry. All workersworking at producing a particular kind of commoditymay be organized in a single Union. . . .The basis of organization would be neither the crafto which a man belonged nor the employer under

whom he worked, but the service on which he wasengaged. This is Industrial Unionism properlyso called.[28]

28] ``World of Labour,'' pp. 212, 213.

ndustrial unionism is a product of America,and from America it has to some extent spread toGreat Britain. It is the natural form of fightingorganization when the union is regarded as the meansof carrying on the class war with a view, not toobtaining this or that minor amelioration, but to aadical revolution in the economic system. This ishe point of view adopted by the `Ìndustrial Workersof the World,'' commonly known as the I. W. W.This organization more or less corresponds in Americao what the C. G. T. was in France before thewar. The differences between the two are those dueo the different economic circumstances of the two

countries, but their spirit is closely analogous. The. W. W. is not united as to the ultimate form whicht wishes society to take. There are Socialists,Anarchists and Syndicalists among its members. But its clear on the immediate practical issue, that theclass war is the fundamental reality in the presentelations of labor and capital, and that it is byndustrial action, especially by the strike, thatemancipation must be sought. The I. W. W., like theC. G. T., is not nearly so strong numerically as it issupposed to be by those who fear it. Its influence

s based, not upon its numbers, but upon its power



of enlisting the sympathies of the workers in momentsof crisis.

The labor movement in America has been characterizedon both sides by very great violence. Indeed,he Secretary of the C. G. T., Monsieur Jouhaux,ecognizes that the C. G. T. is mild in comparison

with the I. W. W. ``The I. W. W.,'' he says,`preach a policy of militant action, very necessary

n parts of America, which would not do in France.''[29]A very interesting account of it, from the point ofview of an author who is neither wholly on the sideof labor nor wholly on the side of the capitalist, butdisinterestedly anxious to find some solution of thesocial question short of violence and revolution, ishe work of Mr. John Graham Brooks, called `ÀmericanSyndicalism: the I. W. W.'' (Macmillan, 1913).American labor conditions are very different fromhose of Europe. In the first place, the power of therusts is enormous; the concentration of capital has

n this respect proceeded more nearly on Marxiannes in America than anywhere else. In the second

place, the great influx of foreign labor makes thewhole problem quite different from any that arisesn Europe. The older skilled workers, largely Americanborn, have long been organized in the AmericanFederation of Labor under Mr. Gompers. Theseepresent an aristocracy of labor. They tend to

work with the employers against the great mass ofunskilled immigrants, and they cannot be regarded asorming part of anything that could be truly calleda labor movement. ``There are,'' says Mr. Cole,`now in America two working classes, with different

standards of life, and both are at present almostmpotent in the face of the employers. Nor is it possibleor these two classes to unite or to put forwardany demands. . . . The American Federationof Labor and the Industrial Workers of theWorld represent two different principles ofcombination; but they also represent two differentclasses of labor.''[30] The I. W. W. stands for industrial

unionism, whereas the American Federation ofLabor stands for craft unionism. The I. W. W. wereormed in 1905 by a union of organizations, chiefamong which was the Western Federation of Miners,which dated from 1892. They suffered a split by theoss of the followers of Deleon, who was the leader ofhe ``Socialist Labor Party'' and advocated a`Don't vote'' policy, while reprobating violent

methods. The headquarters of the party which heormed are at Detroit, and those of the main bodyare at Chicago. The I. W. W., though it has a less

definite philosophy than French Syndicalism, is quite



equally determined to destroy the capitalist system.As its secretary has said: ``There is but one bargainhe I. W. W. will make with the employing class--complete surrender of all control of industry to theorganized workers.''[31] Mr. Haywood, of the WesternFederation of Miners, is an out-and-out followerof Marx so far as concerns the class war and thedoctrine of surplus value. But, like all who are inhis movement, he attaches more importance to industrial

as against political action than do the Europeanollowers of Marx. This is no doubt partlyexplicable by the special circumstances of America,where the recent immigrants are apt to be voteless.The fourth convention of the I. W. W. revised apreamble giving the general principles underlyingts action. ``The working class and the employingclass,'' they say, ``have nothing in common. Therecan be no peace so long as hunger and want areound among millions of the working people and theew, who make up the employing class, have all the

good things of life. Between these two classes, astruggle must go on until the workers of the worldorganize as a class, take possession of the earth andhe machinery of production, and abolish the wagesystem. . . . Instead of the conservative motto,A fair day's wages for a fair day's work,' we mustnscribe on our banner the revolutionary watchword,Abolition of the wage system.' ''[32]

29] Quoted in Cole, ib. p. 128.

30] Ib., p. 135.

31] Brooks, op. cit., p. 79.

32] Brooks, op. cit., pp. 86-87.

Numerous strikes have been conducted or encouragedby the I. W. W. and the Western Federation

of Miners. These strikes illustrate the class-warn a more bitter and extreme form than is to be foundn any other part of the world. Both sides are alwayseady to resort to violence. The employers have

armies of their own and are able to call upon theMilitia and even, in a crisis, upon the United StatesArmy. What French Syndicalists say about theState as a capitalist institution is peculiarly true inAmerica. In consequence of the scandals thus arising,he Federal Government appointed a Commissionon Industrial Relations, whose Report, issued in 1915,

eveals a state of affairs such as it would be difficult



o imagine in Great Britain. The report states that`the greatest disorders and most of the outbreaks

of violence in connection with industrial ̀ disputesarise from the violation of what are consideredo be fundamental rights, and from the perversionor subversion of governmental institutions''p. 146). It mentions, among such perversions,he subservience of the judiciary to the mili-ary authorities,[33] the fact that during a labor

dispute the life and liberty of every man withinhe State would seem to be at the mercy of theGovernor (p. 72), and the use of State troopsn policing strikes (p. 298). At Ludlow (Colorado)n 1914 (April 20) a battle of the militia and theminers took place, in which, as the result of the fireof the militia, a number of women and children wereburned to death.[34] Many other instances of pitchedbattles could be given, but enough has been said toshow the peculiar character of labor disputes in theUnited States. It may, I fear, be presumed that this

character will remain so long as a very largeproportion of labor consists of recent immigrants.When these difficulties pass away, as they mustsooner or later, labor will more and more find itsplace in the community, and will tend to feel andnspire less of the bitter hostility which renders themore extreme forms of class war possible. When

hat time comes, the labor movement in America willprobably begin to take on forms similar to those ofEurope.

33] Although uniformly held that the writ of habeas corpuscan only be suspended by the legislature, in these labor disturbanceshe executive has in fact suspended or disregarded thewrit. . . . In cases arising from labor agitations, the judiciaryhas uniformly upheld the power exercised by the military,and in no case has there been any protest against the use ofsuch power or any attempt to curtail it, except in Montana,where the conviction of a civilian by military commission was

annulled'' (``Final Report of the Commission on IndustrialRelations'' (1915) appointed by the United States Congress,''p. 58).

34] Literary Digest, May 2 and May 16, 1914.

Meanwhile, though the forms are different, theaims are very similar, and industrial unionism,spreading from America, has had a considerablenfluence in Great Britain--an influence naturally

einforced by that of French Syndicalism. It is



clear, I think, that the adoption of industrial ratherhan craft unionism is absolutely necessary if TradeUnionism is to succeed in playing that part in alteringhe economic structure of society which its advocatesclaim for it rather than for the politicalparties. Industrial unionism organizes men, as craftunionism does not, in accordance with the enemywhom they have to fight. English unionism is stillvery far removed from the industrial form, though

certain industries, especially the railway men, havegone very far in this direction, and it is notable thathe railway men are peculiarly sympathetic to Syndicalismand industrial unionism.

Pure Syndicalism, however, is not very likely toachieve wide popularity in Great Britain. Its spirits too revolutionary and anarchistic for our temperament.t is in the modified form of Guild Socialismhat the ideas derived from the C. G. T. and the I. W.W. are tending to bear fruit.[35] This movement is as

yet in its infancy and has no great hold upon the rankand file, but it is being ably advocated by a groupof young men, and is rapidly gaining ground amonghose who will form Labor opinion in years to come.The power of the State has been so much increasedduring the war that those who naturally dislikehings as they are, find it more and more difficult tobelieve that State omnipotence can be the road to themillennium. Guild Socialists aim at autonomy inndustry, with consequent curtailment, but not abolition,of the power of the State. The system whichhey advocate is, I believe, the best hitherto proposed,and the one most likely to secure liberty withouthe constant appeals to violence which are to beeared under a purely Anarchist regime.

35] The ideas of Guild Socialism were first set forth in`National Guilds,'' edited by A. R. Orage (Bell & Sons, 1914),

and in Cole's ``World of Labour'' (Bell & Sons), first publishedn 1913. Cole's ``Self-Government in Industry'' (Bell &Sons, 1917) and Rickett & Bechhofer's ̀ `The Meaning of

National Guilds'' (Palmer & Hayward, 1918) should also beead, as well as various pamphlets published by the NationalGuilds League. The attitude of the Syndicalists to GuildSocialism is far from sympathetic. An article in ̀ `TheSyndicalist'' for February, 1914, speaks of it in the followingerms: a Middle-class of the middle-class, with all the shortcomingswe had almost said `stupidities') of the middle-

classes writ large across it, `Guild Socialism' stands forthas the latest lucubration of the middle-class mind. It is acool steal' of the leading ideas of Syndicalism and a deliberate

perversion of them. . . . We do protest against the ̀ State'

dea . . . in Guild Socialism. Middle-class people, even



when they become Socialists, cannot get rid of the idea that theworking-class is their ̀ inferior'; that the workers need to beeducated,' drilled, disciplined, and generally nursed for a veryong time before they will be able to walk by themselves. Thevery reverse is actually the truth. . . . It is just the plainruth when we say that the ordinary wage-worker, of averagentelligence, is better capable of taking care of himself than thehalf-educated middle-class man who wants to advise him. Heknows how to make the wheels of the world go round.''

The first pamphlet of the ``National GuildsLeague'' sets forth their main principles. In industryeach factory is to be free to control its ownmethods of production by means of elected managers.The different factories in a given industry are to beederated into a National Guild which will deal withmarketing and the general interests of the industryas a whole. ``The State would own the means ofproduction as trustee for the community; the Guilds

would manage them, also as trustees for the community,and would pay to the State a single tax orent. Any Guild that chose to set its own interests

above those of the community would be violatingts trust, and would have to bow to the judgment ofa tribunal equally representing the whole body ofproducers and the whole body of consumers. ThisJoint Committee would be the ultimate sovereignbody, the ultimate appeal court of industry. Itwould fix not only Guild taxation, but also standardprices, and both taxation and prices would be periodicallyeadjusted by it.'' Each Guild will be

entirely free to apportion what it receives among itsmembers as it chooses, its members being all those whowork in the industry which it covers. ``The distributionof this collective Guild income among themembers seems to be a matter for each Guild to decideor itself. Whether the Guilds would, sooner or later,adopt the principle of equal payment for every member,s open to discussion.'' Guild Socialism acceptsrom Syndicalism the view that liberty is not to be

secured by making the State the employer: ``TheState and the Municipality as employers have turnedout not to differ essentially from the private capitalist.''Guild Socialists regard the State as consistingof the community in their capacity as consumers,while the Guilds will represent them in their capacityas producers; thus Parliament and the Guild Congresswill be two co-equal powers representing consumersand producers respectively. Above both willbe the joint Committee of Parliament and the GuildCongress for deciding matters involving the interests

of consumers and producers alike. The view of the



Guild Socialists is that State Socialism takes accountof men only as consumers, while Syndicalism takesaccount of them only as producers. ``The problem,''say the Guild Socialists, ̀ ìs to reconcile the twopoints of view. That is what advocates of NationalGuilds set out to do. The Syndicalist has claimedeverything for the industrial organizations of producers,he Collectivist everything for the territorialor political organizations of consumers. Both are

open to the same criticism; you cannot reconcile twopoints of view merely by denying one of them.''[36]But although Guild Socialism represents an attemptat readjustment between two equally legitimate pointsof view, its impulse and force are derived fromwhat it has taken over from Syndicalism. Like Syndicalism;t desires not primarily to make work betterpaid, but to secure this result along with others bymaking it in itself more interesting and more democraticn organization.

36] The above quotations are all from the first pamphlet of theNational Guilds League, ̀ `National Guilds, an Appeal to TradeUnionists.''

Capitalism has made of work a purely commercialactivity, a soulless and a joyless thing. But substitutehe national service of the Guilds for the profiteering ofhe few; substitute responsible labor for a saleable commodity;substitute self-government and decentralizationor the bureaucracy and demoralizing hugeness of themodern State and the modern joint stock company; andhen it may be just once more to speak of a ``joy inabor,'' and once more to hope that men may be proudof quality and not only of quantity in their work. Theres a cant of the Middle Ages, and a cant of ̀ `joy inabor,'' but it were better, perhaps, to risk that canthan to reconcile ourselves forever to the philosophy ofCapitalism and of Collectivism, which declares that works a necessary evil never to be made pleasant, and that

he workers' only hope is a leisure which shall be longer,icher, and well adorned with municipal amenities.[37]

37] ``The Guild Idea,'' No. 2 of the Pamphlets of the NationalGuilds League, p. 17.

Whatever may be thought of the practicabilityof Syndicalism, there is no doubt that the ideas which

t has put into the world have done a great deal



o revive the labor movement and to recall it to certainhings of fundamental importance which it hadbeen in danger of forgetting. Syndicalists considerman as producer rather than consumer. They aremore concerned to procure freedom in work than toncrease material well-being. They have revived thequest for liberty, which was growing somewhatdimmed under the regime of Parliamentary Socialism,and they have reminded men that what our modern

society needs is not a little tinkering here and there,nor the kind of minor readjustments to which theexisting holders of power may readily consent, buta fundamental reconstruction, a sweeping away ofall the sources of oppression, a liberation of men'sconstructive energies, and a wholly new way ofconceiving and regulating production and economicelations. This merit is so great that, in view of it,

all minor defects become insignificant, and this meritSyndicalism will continue to possess even if, as adefinite movement, it should be found to have passed

away with the war.

PART II

PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE

CHAPTER IV

WORK AND PAY

THE man who seeks to create a better order ofsociety has two resistances to contend with: one thatof Nature, the other that of his fellow-men. Broadlyspeaking, it is science that deals with the resistanceof Nature, while politics and social organization arehe methods of overcoming the resistance of men.

The ultimate fact in economics is that Nature only

yields commodities as the result of labor. The necessityof SOME labor for the satisfaction of our wantss not imposed by political systems or by the exploitationof the working classes; it is due to physicalaws, which the reformer, like everyone else, mustadmit and study. Before any optimistic economicproject can be accepted as feasible, we must examinewhether the physical conditions of production imposean unalterable veto, or whether they are capable ofbeing sufficiently modified by science and organization.Two connected doctrines must be considered

n examining this question: First, Malthus' doctrine



of population; and second, the vaguer, but veryprevalent, view that any surplus above the barenecessaries of life can only be produced if most menwork long hours at monotonous or painful tasks,eaving little leisure for a civilized existence orational enjoyment. I do not believe that either

of these obstacles to optimism will survive a closescrutiny. The possibility of technical improvementn the methods of production is, I believe, so

great that, at any rate for centuries to come, therewill be no inevitable barrier to progress in the generalwell-being by the simultaneous increase of commoditiesand diminution of hours of labor.

This subject has been specially studied by Kropotkin,who, whatever may be thought of his generalheories of politics, is remarkably instructive, concreteand convincing in all that he says about thepossibilities of agriculture. Socialists and Anarchistsn the main are products of industrial life, and

ew among them have any practical knowledge on thesubject of food production. But Kropotkin is anexception. His two books, ``The Conquest of Bread''and ``Fields, Factories and Workshops,'' are veryull of detailed information, and, even making greatallowances for an optimistic bias, I do not think itcan be denied that they demonstrate possibilities inwhich few of us would otherwise have believed.

Malthus contended, in effect, that populationalways tends to increase up to the limit of subsistence,hat the production of food becomes more expensiveas its amount is increased, and that therefore, apartrom short exceptional periods when new discoveriesproduce temporary alleviations, the bulk of mankindmust always be at the lowest level consistent withsurvival and reproduction. As applied to the civilizedaces of the world, this doctrine is becoming

untrue through the rapid decline in the birth-rate;but, apart from this decline, there are many othereasons why the doctrine cannot be accepted, at any

ate as regards the near future. The century whichelapsed after Malthus wrote, saw a very greatncrease in the standard of comfort throughout thewage-earning classes, and, owing to the enormousncrease in the productivity of labor, a far greaterise in the standard of comfort could have been

effected if a more just system of distribution hadbeen introduced. In former times, when one man'sabor produced not very much more than was neededor one man's subsistence, it was impossible eithergreatly to reduce the normal hours of labor, or

greatly to increase the proportion of the population



who enjoyed more than the bare necessaries of life.But this state of affairs has been overcome by modernmethods of production. At the present moment,not only do many people enjoy a comfortable incomederived from rent or interest, but about half thepopulation of most of the civilized countries in theworld is engaged, not in the production of commodities,but in fighting or in manufacturing munitionsof war. In a time of peace the whole of this

half might be kept in idleness without making theother half poorer than they would have been if thewar had continued, and if, instead of being idle, theywere productively employed, the whole of what theywould produce would be a divisible surplus over andabove present wages. The present productivity ofabor in Great Britain would suffice to produce anncome of about 1 pound per day for each family, evenwithout any of those improvements in methods whichare obviously immediately possible.

But, it will be said, as population increases, theprice of food must ultimately increase also ashe sources of supply in Canada, the Argentine,Australia and elsewhere are more and more used up.There must come a time, so pessimists will urge, whenood becomes so dear that the ordinary wage-earnerwill have little surplus for expenditure upon otherhings. It may be admitted that this would be truen some very distant future if the population were tocontinue to increase without limit. If the wholesurface of the world were as densely populated asLondon is now, it would, no doubt, require almosthe whole labor of the population to produce thenecessary food from the few spaces remaining foragriculture. But there is no reason to suppose thathe population will continue to increase indefinitely,and in any case the prospect is so remote that it maybe ignored in all practical considerations.

Returning from these dim speculations to theacts set forth by Kropotkin, we find it proved in

his writings that, by methods of intensive cultivation,which are already in actual operation, the amount ofood produced on a given area can be increased farbeyond anything that most uninformed persons supposepossible. Speaking of the market-gardeners inGreat Britain, in the neighborhood of Paris, and inother places, he says:--

They have created a totally new agriculture. Theysmile when we boast about the rotation system having

permitted us to take from the field one crop every year,



or four crops each three years, because their ambition iso have six and nine crops from the very same plot ofand during the twelve months. They do not understandour talk about good and bad soils, because they makehe soil themselves, and make it in such quantities as tobe compelled yearly to sell some of it; otherwise it wouldaise up the level of their gardens by half an inch every

year. They aim at cropping, not five or six tons ofgrass on the acre, as we do, but from 50 to 100 tons of

various vegetables on the same space; not 5 pound sworth ofhay, but 100 pounds worth of vegetables, of the plainest description,cabbage and carrots.[38]

38] Kropotkin, ``Fields, Factories and Workshops,'' p. 74.

As regards cattle, he mentions that Mr. Championat Whitby grows on each acre the food of two orhree head of cattle, whereas under ordinary high

arming it takes two or three acres to keep each headof cattle in Great Britain. Even more astonishingare the achievements of the Culture Maraicheresound Paris. It is impossible to summarize these

achievements, but we may note the generalconclusion:--

There are now practical Maraichers who venture tomaintain that if all the food, animal and vegetable,necessary for the 3,500,000 inhabitants of the Departmentsof Seine and Seine-et-Oise had to be grown onheir own territory (3250 square miles), it could begrown without resorting to any other methods of culturehan those already in use--methods already tested on aarge scale and proved successful.[39]

39] Ib. p. 81.

t must be remembered that these two departmentsnclude the whole population of Paris.

Kropotkin proceeds to point out methods bywhich the same result could be achieved without longhours of labor. Indeed, he contends that the greatbulk of agricultural work could be carried on bypeople whose main occupations are sedentary, andwith only such a number of hours as would serve tokeep them in health and produce a pleasant diversification.He protests against the theory of exces-

sive division of labor. What he wants is INTEGRATION,



à society where each individual is a producer ofboth manual and intellectual work; where each able-bodied human being is a worker, and where eachworker works both in the field and in the industrialworkshop.''[40]

40] Kropotkin, ``Field, Factories, and Workshops,'' p. 6.

These views as to production have no essentialconnection with Kropotkin's advocacy of Anarchism.They would be equally possible under StateSocialism, and under certain circumstances theymight even be carried out in a capitalistic regime.They are important for our present purpose, notrom any argument which they afford in favor of oneeconomic system as against another, but from theact that they remove the veto upon our hopes whichmight otherwise result from a doubt as to the productive

capacity of labor. I have dwelt upon agricultureather than industry, since it is in regardo agriculture that the difficulties are chiefly supposedo arise. Broadly speaking, industrial productionends to be cheaper when it is carried on ona large scale, and therefore there is no reason inndustry why an increase in the demand should leado an increased cost of supply.

Passing now from the purely technical and materialside of the problem of production, we comeo the human factor, the motives leading men towork, the possibilities of efficient organization ofproduction, and the connection of production withdistribution. Defenders of the existing systemmaintain that efficient work would be impossible withouthe economic stimulus, and that if the wagesystem were abolished men would cease to do enoughwork to keep the community in tolerable comfort.Through the alleged necessity of the economic motive,he problems of production and distribution

become intertwined. The desire for a more justdistribution of the world's goods is the main inspirationof most Socialism and Anarchism. We must,herefore, consider whether the system of distributionwhich they propose would be likely to lead toa diminished production.

There is a fundamental difference between Socialismand Anarchism as regards the question of distribution.Socialism, at any rate in most of itsorms, would retain payment for work done or for

willingness to work, and, except in the case of persons



ncapacitated by age or infirmity, would makewillingness to work a condition of subsistence, or atany rate of subsistence above a certain very lowminimum. Anarchism, on the other hand, aims atgranting to everyone, without any conditions whatever,ust as much of all ordinary commodities ashe or she may care to consume, while the rarer com-modities, of which the supply cannot easily bendefinitely increased, would be rationed and divided

equally among the population. Thus Anarchismwould not impose any OBLIGATIONS of work, thoughAnarchists believe that the necessary work could bemade sufficiently agreeable for the vast majority ofhe population to undertake it voluntarily. Socialists,on the other hand, would exact work. Some ofhem would make the incomes of all workers equal,while others would retain higher pay for the workwhich is considered more valuable. All these differentsystems are compatible with the common ownershipof land and capital, though they differ greatly

as regards the kind of society which they wouldproduce.

Socialism with inequality of income would notdiffer greatly as regards the economic stimulus towork from the society in which we live. Such differencesas it would entail would undoubtedly be to thegood from our present point of view. Under theexisting system many people enjoy idleness andaffluence through the mere accident of inheriting landor capital. Many others, through their activities inndustry or finance, enjoy an income which is certainlyvery far in excess of anything to which theirsocial utility entitles them. On the other hand, itoften happens that inventors and discoverers, whosework has the very greatest social utility, are robbedof their reward either by capitalists or by the failureof the public to appreciate their work until tooate. The better paid work is only open to those whohave been able to afford an expensive training, andhese men are selected in the main not by merit but

by luck. The wage earner is not paid for his willingnesso work, but only for his utility to the employer.Consequently, he may be plunged into destitution bycauses over which he has no control. Such destitutions a constant fear, and when it occurs it producesundeserved suffering, and often deteriorationn the social value of the sufferer. These are a fewamong the evils of our existing system from thestandpoint of production. All these evils we mightexpect to see remedied under any system of Socialism.

There are two questions which need to be considered



when we are discussing how far work requireshe economic motive. The first question is: Mustsociety give higher pay for the more skilled or sociallymore valuable work, if such work is to be done insufficient quantities? The second question is: Couldwork be made so attractive that enough of it wouldbe done even if idlers received just as much of theproduce of work? The first of these questions concernshe division between two schools of Socialists:

he more moderate Socialists sometimes concede thateven under Socialism it would be well to retainunequal pay for different kinds of work, while themore thoroughgoing Socialists advocate equalncomes for all workers. The second question, on theother hand, forms a division between Socialists andAnarchists; the latter would not deprive a man ofcommodities if he did not work, while the former ingeneral would.

Our second question is so much more fundamental

han our first that it must be discussed at once, andn the course of this discussion what needs to be saidon our first question will find its place naturally.

Wages or Free Sharing?--`Àbolition of thewages system'' is one of the watchwords commono Anarchists and advanced Socialists. But in itsmost natural sense it is a watchword to which onlyhe Anarchists have a right. In the Anarchist conceptionof society all the commoner commodities willbe available to everyone without stint, in the kindof way in which water is available at present.[41] Advo-cates of this system point out that it applies alreadyo many things which formerly had to be paid for,e.g., roads and bridges. They point out that itmight very easily be extended to trams and localrains. They proceed to argue--as Kropotkin doesby means of his proofs that the soil might be madendefinitely more productive--that all the commonerkinds of food could be given away to all who demandedhem, since it would be easy to produce them in quantities

adequate to any possible demand. If this systemwere extended to all the necessaries of life,everyone's bare livelihood would be secured, quiteegardless of the way in which he might choose to

spend his time. As for commodities which cannotbe produced in indefinite quantities, such as luxuriesand delicacies, they also, according to the Anarchists,are to be distributed without payment, but on a systemof rations, the amount available being dividedequally among the population. No doubt, thoughhis is not said, something like a price will have

o be put upon these luxuries, so that a man may



be free to choose how he will take his share: one manwill prefer good wine, another the finest Havanacigars, another pictures or beautiful furniture. Presumably,every man will be allowed to take such luxuriesas are his due in whatever form he prefers, theelative prices being fixed so as to equalize the

demand. In such a world as this, the economic stimuluso production will have wholly disappeared, andf work is to continue it must be from other motives.[42]

41] ``Notwithstanding the egotistic turn given to the publicmind by the merchant-production of our century, the Communistendency is continually reasserting itself and trying tomake its way into public life. The penny bridge disappears beforehe public bridge; and the turnpike road before the freeoad. The same spirit pervades thousands of other institutions.

Museums, free libraries, and free public schools; parks andpleasure grounds; paved and lighted streets, free for everybody'suse; water supplied to private dwellings, with a growing tendency

owards disregarding the exact amount of it used by thendividual, tramways and railways which have already begun tontroduce the season ticket or the uniform tax, and will surelygo much further on this line when they are no longer privateproperty: all these are tokens showing in what direction furtherprogress is to be expected.''--Kropotkin, `Ànarchist Communism.''

42] An able discussion of this question, at of various others,rom the standpoint of reasoned and temperate opposition toAnarchism, will be found in Alfred Naquet's ``L'Anarchie et leCollectivisme,'' Paris, 1904.

s such a system possible? First, is it technicallypossible to provide the necessaries of life in sucharge quantities as would be needed if every man andwoman could take as much of them from the publicstores as he or she might desire?

The idea of purchase and payment is so familiarhat the proposal to do away with it must be thought

at first fantastic. Yet I do not believe it is nearlyso fantastic as it seems. Even if we could all havebread for nothing, we should not want more thana quite limited amount. As things are, the cost ofbread to the rich is so small a proportion of theirncome as to afford practically no check upon theirconsumption; yet the amount of bread that they consumecould easily be supplied to the whole populationby improved methods of agriculture (I am not speakingof war-time). The amount of food that peopledesire has natural limits, and the waste that would

be incurred would probably not be very great. As



he Anarchists point out, people at present enjoyan unlimited water supply but very few leave theaps running when they are not using them. Andone may assume that public opinion would be opposedo excessive waste. We may lay it down, I think,hat the principle of unlimited supply could beadopted in regard to all commodities for which thedemand has limits that fall short of what can beeasily produced. And this would be the case, if production

were efficiently organized, with the necessariesof life, including not only commodities, but alsosuch things as education. Even if all education wereree up to the highest, young people, unless they wereadically transformed by the Anarchist regime,

would not want more than a certain amount of it.And the same applies to plain foods, plain clothes,and the rest of the things that supply our elementaryneeds.

think we may conclude that there is no technical

mpossibility in the Anarchist plan of freesharing.

But would the necessary work be done if the individualwere assured of the general standard of comforteven though he did no work?

Most people will answer this question unhesitatinglyn the negative. Those employers in particularwho are in the habit of denouncing theiremployes as a set of lazy, drunken louts, will feel quitecertain that no work could be got out of them exceptunder threat of dismissal and consequent starvation.But is this as certain as people are inclined to sup-pose at first sight? If work were to remain whatmost work is now, no doubt it would be very hard tonduce people to undertake it except from fear ofdestitution. But there is no reason why work shouldemain the dreary drudgery in horrible conditionshat most of it is now.[43] If men had to be tempted towork instead of driven to it, the obvious interest of

he community would be to make work pleasant. Soong as work is not made on the whole pleasant, itcannot be said that anything like a good state ofsociety has been reached. Is the painfulness of workunavoidable?

43] `Òverwork is repulsive to human nature--not work. Overworkor supplying the few with luxury--not work for the well-being of all. Work, labor, is a physiological necessity, a necessityof spending accumulated bodily energy, a necessity which

s health and life itself. If so many branches of useful work are



so reluctantly done now, it is merely because they mean overwork,or they are improperly organized. But we know--oldFranklin knew it--that four hours of useful work every daywould be more than sufficient for supplying everybody with thecomfort of a moderately well-to-do middle-class house, if we allgave ourselves to productive work, and if we did not waste ourproductive powers as we do waste them now. As to the childishquestion, repeated for fifty years: ̀ Who would do disagreeablework?' frankly I regret that none of our savants has ever been

brought to do it, be it for only one day in his life. If there isstill work which is really disagreeable in itself, it is onlybecause our scientific men have never cared to consider themeans of rendering it less so: they have always known that therewere plenty of starving men who would do it for a few pencea day.'' Kropotkin, ̀ `Ànarchist Communism.''

At present, the better paid work, that of thebusiness and professional classes, is for the most partenjoyable. I do not mean that every separate

moment is agreeable, but that the life of a man whohas work of this sort is on the whole happier thanhat of a man who enjoys an equal income withoutdoing any work. A certain amount of effort, andsomething in the nature of a continuous career, arenecessary to vigorous men if they are to preserveheir mental health and their zest for life. A considerableamount of work is done without pay. Peoplewho take a rosy view of human nature might havesupposed that the duties of a magistrate would beamong disagreeable trades, like cleaning sewers; buta cynic might contend that the pleasures of vindictivenessand moral superiority are so great that there isno difficulty in finding well-to-do elderly gentlemenwho are willing, without pay, to send helpless wretcheso the torture of prison. And apart from enjoymentof the work itself, desire for the good opinion ofneighbors and for the feeling of effectiveness is quitesufficient to keep many men active.

But, it will be said, the sort of work that a man

would voluntarily choose must always be exceptional:he great bulk of necessary work can never be anythingbut painful. Who would choose, if an easy lifewere otherwise open to him, to be a coal-miner, or astoker on an Atlantic liner? I think it must be concededhat much necessary work must always remaindisagreeable or at least painfully monotonous, andhat special privileges will have to be accorded tohose who undertake it, if the Anarchist system is evero be made workable. It is true that the introductionof such special privileges would somewhat mar the

ounded logic of Anarchism, but it need not,



think, make any really vital breach in its system.Much of the work that needs doing could be renderedagreeable, if thought and care were giveno this object. Even now it is often only long hourshat make work irksome. If the normal hours ofwork were reduced to, say, four, as they could be bybetter organization and more scientific methods, avery great deal of work which is now felt as a burdenwould quite cease to be so. If, as Kropotkin suggests,

agricultural work, instead of being the lifelongdrudgery of an ignorant laborer living verynear the verge of abject poverty, were the occasionaloccupation of men and women normally employed inndustry or brain-work; if, instead of being conductedby ancient traditional methods, without anypossibility of intelligent participation by the wage-earner, it were alive with the search for new methodsand new inventions, filled with the spirit of freedom,and inviting the mental as well as the physical cooperationof those who do the work, it might become

a joy instead of a weariness, and a source of healthand life to those engaged in it.

What is true of agriculture is said by Anarchistso be equally true of industry. They maintainhat if the great economic organizations whichare now managed by capitalists, without considerationor the lives of the wage-earners beyondwhat Trade Unions are able to exact, were turnedgradually into self-governing communities, in whichhe producers could decide all questions of methods,conditions, hours of work, and so forth, there wouldbe an almost boundless change for the better: grimeand noise might be nearly eliminated, the hideousnessof industrial regions might be turned into beauty, thenterest in the scientific aspects of production mightbecome diffused among all producers with any nativentelligence, and something of the artist's joy in creationmight inspire the whole of the work. All this,which is at present utterly remote from the reality,might be produced by economic self-government.

We may concede that by such means a very largeproportion of the necessary work of the world couldultimately be made sufficiently agreeable to be preferredbefore idleness even by men whose bare livelihoodwould be assured whether they worked or not.As to the residue let us admit that special rewards,whether in goods or honors or privileges, would haveo be given to those who undertook it. But this neednot cause any fundamental objection.

There would, of course, be a certain proportion

of the population who would prefer idleness. Provided



he proportion were small, this need not matter.And among those who would be classed as idlersmight be included artists, writers of books, mendevoted to abstract intellectual pursuits--in short,all those whom society despises while they are aliveand honors when they are dead. To such men, thepossibility of pursuing their own work regardlessof any public recognition of its utility would benvaluable. Whoever will observe how many of our

poets have been men of private means will realize howmuch poetic capacity must have remained undevelopedhrough poverty; for it would be absurd tosuppose that the rich are better endowed by naturewith the capacity for poetry. Freedom for such men,ew as they are, must be set against the waste ofhe mere idlers.

So far, we have set forth the arguments in favorof the Anarchist plan. They are, to my mind, sufficiento make it seem possible that the plan might

succeed, but not sufficient to make it so probable thatt would be wise to try it.

The question of the feasibility of the Anarchistproposals in regard to distribution is, like so manyother questions, a quantitative one. The Anarchistproposals consist of two parts: (1) That all the commoncommodities should be supplied ad lib. to allapplicants; (2) That no obligation to work, or economiceward for work, should be imposed on anyone.

These two proposals are not necessarily inseparable,nor does either entail the whole system of Anarchism,hough without them Anarchism would hardly bepossible. As regards the first of these proposals, itcan be carried out even now with regard to somecommodities, and it could be carried out in no verydistant future with regard to many more. It is alexible plan, since this or that article of consumptioncould be placed on the free list or taken of ascircumstances might dictate. Its advantages aremany and various, and the practice of the world tends

o develop in this direction. I think we may concludehat this part of the Anarchists' system mightwell be adopted bit by bit, reaching gradually theull extension that they desire.

But as regards the second proposal, that thereshould be no obligation to work, and no economiceward for work, the matter is much more doubtful.

Anarchists always assume that if their schemes wereput into operation practically everyone would work;but although there is very much more to be said

or this view than most people would concede at first



sight, yet it is questionable whether there is enougho be said to make it true for practical purposes.Perhaps, in a community where industry had becomehabitual through economic pressure, public opinionmight be sufficiently powerful to compel most meno work;[44] but it is always doubtful how far sucha state of things would be permanent. If publicopinion is to be really effective, it will be necessaryo have some method of dividing the community into

small groups, and to allow each group to consumeonly the equivalent of what it produces. This willmake the economic motive operative upon the group,which, since we are supposing it small, will feel thatts collective share is appreciably diminished by eachdle individual. Such a system might be feasible, butt would be contrary to the whole spirit of Anarchismand would destroy the main lines of its economicsystem.

44] ̀ Às to the so-often repeated objection that nobody wouldabor if he were not compelled to do so by sheer necessity, weheard enough of it before the emancipation of slaves in America,as well as before the emancipation of serfs in Russia; and wehave had the opportunity of appreciating it at its just value.So we shall not try to convince those who can be convinced onlyby accomplished facts. As to those who reason, they ought toknow that, if it really was so with some parts of humanity atts lowest stages--and yet, what do we know about it?--or ift is so with some small communities, or separate individuals,brought to sheer despair by ill-success in their struggle againstunfavorable conditions, it is not so with the bulk of the civilizednations. With us, work is a habit, and idleness an artificialgrowth.'' Kropotkin, ̀ Ànarchist Communism,'' p. 30.

The attitude of orthodox Socialism on this questions quite different from that of Anarchism.[45]Among the more immediate measures advocated in the`Communist Manifesto'' is ̀ èqual liability of allo labor. Establishment of industrial armies, especially

or agriculture.'' The Socialist theory is that,n general, work alone gives the right to the enjoymentof the produce of work. To this theory therewill, of course, be exceptions: the old and the veryyoung, the infirm and those whose work is temporarilynot required through no fault of their own.But the fundamental conception of Socialism, in regardo our present question, is that all who canshould be compelled to work, either by the threatof starvation or by the operation of the criminalaw. And, of course, the only kind of work recognized

will be such as commends itself to the authorities.



Writing books against Socialism, or againstany theory embodied in the government of the day,would certainly not be recognized as work. No morewould the painting of pictures in a different stylerom that of the Royal Academy, or producing playsunpleasing to the censor. Any new line of thoughtwould be banned, unless by influence or corruptionhe thinker could crawl into the good graces of thepundits. These results are not foreseen by Socialists,

because they imagine that the Socialist Statewill be governed by men like those who now advocatet. This is, of course, a delusion. The rulers of theState then will bear as little resemblance to the pres-ent Socialists as the dignitaries of the Church afterhe time of Constantine bore to the Apostles. Themen who advocate an unpopular reform are exceptionaln disinterestedness and zeal for the publicgood; but those who hold power after the reformhas been carried out are likely to belong, in the main,o the ambitious executive type which has in all ages

possessed itself of the government of nations. Andhis type has never shown itself tolerant of oppositionor friendly to freedom.

45] ``While holding this synthetic view on production, theAnarchists cannot consider, like the Collectivists, that aemuneration which would be proportionate to the hours of labor

spent by each person in the production of riches may be andeal, or even an approach to an ideal, society.'' Kropotkin,Ànarchist Communism,'' p. 20.

t would seem, then, that if the Anarchist planhas its dangers, the Socialist plan has at least equaldangers. It is true that the evils we have been foreseeingunder Socialism exist at present, but the purposeof Socialists is to cure the evils of the worldas it is; they cannot be content with the argumenthat they would make things no worse.

Anarchism has the advantage as regards liberty,Socialism as regards the inducements to work. Canwe not find a method of combining these two advantages?t seems to me that we can.

We saw that, provided most people work inmoderation, and their work is rendered as productiveas science and organization can make it, there is nogood reason why the necessaries of life should not besupplied freely to all. Our only serious doubt wasas to whether, in an Anarchist regime, the motives for

work would be sufficiently powerful to prevent a dan-



gerously large amount of idleness. But it would beeasy to decree that, though necessaries should be freeo all, whatever went beyond necessaries should onlybe given to those who were willing to work--not, ass usual at present, only to those in work at anymoment, but also to all those who, when they happenednot to be working, were idle through no faultof their own. We find at present that a man whohas a small income from investments, just sufficient

o keep him from actual want, almost always preferso find some paid work in order to be able to afforduxuries. So it would be, presumably, in such acommunity as we are imagining. At the same time, theman who felt a vocation for some unrecognized workof art or science or thought would be free to follow hisdesire, provided he were willing to ``scorn delightsand live laborious days.'' And the comparativelysmall number of men with an invincible horror ofwork--the sort of men who now become tramps--might lead a harmless existence, without any grave

danger of their becoming sufficiently numerous to bea serious burden upon the more industrious. In thisways the claims of freedom could be combined withhe need of some economic stimulus to work. Sucha system, it seems to me, would have a far greaterchance of success than either pure Anarchism or pureorthodox Socialism.

Stated in more familiar terms, the plan we areadvocating amounts essentially to this: that a certainsmall income, sufficient for necessaries, should besecured to all, whether they work or not, and that aarger income, as much larger as might be warrantedby the total amount of commodities produced, shouldbe given to those who are willing to engage in somework which the community recognizes as useful. Onhis basis we may build further. I do not think its always necessary to pay more highly work whichs more skilled or regarded as socially more useful,since such work is more interesting and more respectedhan ordinary work, and will therefore often be

preferred by those who are able to do it. But wemight, for instance, give an intermediate income tohose who are only willing to work half the usualnumber of hours, and an income above that of mostworkers to those who choose a specially disagreeablerade. Such a system is perfectly compatible withSocialism, though perhaps hardly with Anarchism.Of its advantages we shall have more to say at aater stage. For the present I am content to urgehat it combines freedom with justice, and avoidshose dangers to the community which we have found

o lurk both in the proposals of the Anarchists and



n those of orthodox Socialists.

CHAPTER V

GOVERNMENT AND LAW

GOVERNMENT and Law, in their very essence, consistof restrictions on freedom, and freedom is thegreatest of political goods.[46] A hasty reasoner mightconclude without further ado that Law and governmentare evils which must be abolished if freedoms our goal. But this consequence, true or false, cannotbe proved so simply. In this chapter we shallexamine the arguments of Anarchists against law andhe State. We shall proceed on the assumption thatreedom is the supreme aim of a good social system;but on this very basis we shall find the Anarchist

contentions very questionable.

46] I do not say freedom is the greatest of ALL goods: the besthings come from within--they are such things as creative art,and love, and thought. Such things can be helped or hinderedby political conditions, but not actually produced by them; andreedom is, both in itself and in its relation to these other goodshe best thing that political and economic conditions can secure.

Respect for the liberty of others is not a naturalmpulse with most men: envy and love of power leadordinary human nature to find pleasure in interferenceswith the lives of others. If all men's actionswere wholly unchecked by external authority, weshould not obtain a world in which all men would beree. The strong would oppress the weak, or themajority would oppress the minority, or the loversof violence would oppress the more peaceable people.fear it cannot be said that these bad impulses are

WHOLLY due to a bad social system, though it mustbe conceded that the present competitive organizationof society does a great deal to foster the worstelements in human nature. The love of power is anmpulse which, though innate in very ambitious men,s chiefly promoted as a rule by the actual experienceof power. In a world where none could acquiremuch power, the desire to tyrannize would be muchess strong than it is at present. Nevertheless, Icannot think that it would be wholly absent, andhose in whom it would exist would often be men of

unusual energy and executive capacity. Such men,



f they are not restrained by the organized will ofhe community, may either succeed in establishinga despotism, or, at any rate, make such a vigorousattempt as can only be defeated through a periodof prolonged disturbance. And apart from the loveor political power, there is the love of power overndividuals. If threats and terrorism were not preventedby law, it can hardly be doubted that cruelty wouldbe rife in the relations of men and women, and of

parents and children. It is true that the habits ofa community can make such cruelty rare, but thesehabits, I fear, are only to be produced through theprolonged reign of law. Experience of backwoodscommunities, mining camps and other such placesseems to show that under new conditions men easilyevert to a more barbarous attitude and practice.t would seem, therefore, that, while human natureemains as it is, there will be more liberty for all in a

community where some acts of tyranny by individualsare forbidden, than in a community where the law

eaves each individual free to follow his every impulse.But, although the necessity of some form of governmentand law must for the present be conceded, it ismportant to remember that all law and governments in itself in some degree an evil, only justifiable whent prevents other and greater evils. Every use of thepower of the State needs, therefore, to be very closelyscrutinized, and every possibility of diminishing itspower is to be welcomed provided it does not lead toa reign of private tyranny.

The power of the State is partly legal, partlyeconomic: acts of a kind which the State dislikes canbe punished by the criminal law, and individuals whoncur the displeasure of the State may find it hardo earn a livelihood.

The views of Marx on the State are not veryclear. On the one hand he seems willing,, like themodern State Socialists, to allow great power to theState, but on the other hand he suggests that when

he Socialist revolution has been consummated, theState, as we know it, will disappear. Among themeasures which are advocated in the CommunistManifesto as immediately desirable, there are severalwhich would very greatly increase the power ofhe existing State. For example, ̀ `Centralizationof credit in the hands of the State, by means of anational bank with State capital and an exclusivemonopoly;'' and again, ``Centralization of themeans of communication and transport in the handsof the State.'' But the Manifesto goes on to say:



When, in the course of development, class distinctionshave disappeared, and all production has been concentratedn the hands of a vast association of the wholenation, the public power will lose its political character.Political power, properly so called, is merely the organisedpower of one class for oppressing another. If theproletariat during its contest with the bourgeoisie iscompelled, by the force of circumstances, to organize

tself as a class, if, by means of a revolution, it makestself the ruling class, and, as such, sweeps away byorce the old conditions of production, then it will,along with these conditions, have swept away the conditionsor the existence of class antagonisms, and ofclasses generally, and will thereby have abolished itsown supremacy as a class.

n place of the old bourgeois society, with its classesand class antagonisms, we shall have an association, inwhich; the free development of each is the condition for

he free development of all.[47]

47] Communist Manifesto, p. 22.

This attitude Marx preserved in essentialshroughout his life. Accordingly, it is not to bewondered at that his followers, so far as regards theirmmediate aims, have in the main become out-and-outState Socialists. On the other hand, the Syndicalists,who accept from Marx the doctrine of the classwar, which they regard as what is really vital in hiseaching, reject the State with abhorrence and wisho abolish it wholly, in which respect they are at onewith the Anarchists. The Guild Socialists, thoughsome persons in this country regard them as extremists,eally represent the English love of compromise.

The Syndicalist arguments as to the dangers inherentn the power of the State have made them dissatisfiedwith the old State Socialism, but they are

unable to accept the Anarchist view that society candispense altogether with a central authority.Accordingly they propose that there should be twoco-equal instruments of Government in a community,he one geographical, representing the consumers,and essentially the continuation of the democraticState; the other representing the producers, organized,not geographically, but in guilds, after themanner of industrial unionism. These two author-ties will deal with different classes of questions.Guild Socialists do not regard the industrial authority

as forming part of the State, for they contend



hat it is the essence of the State to be geographical;but the industrial authority will resemble the presentState in the fact that it will have coercive powers,and that its decrees will be enforced, when necessary.t is to be suspected that Syndicalists also, much ashey object to the existing State, would not objecto coercion of individuals in an industry by theTrade Union in that industry. Government withinhe Trade Union would probably be quite as strict

as State government is now. In saying this we areassuming that the theoretical Anarchism of Syndicalisteaders would not survive accession to power,but I am afraid experience shows that this is not avery hazardous assumption.

Among all these different views, the one whichaises the deepest issue is the Anarchist contentionhat all coercion by the community is unnecessary.Like most of the things that Anarchists say, theres much more to be urged in support of this view

han most people would suppose at first sight. Kropotkin,who is its ablest exponent, points out howmuch has been achieved already by the method of freeagreement. He does not wish to abolish governmentn the sense of collective decisions: what he does wisho abolish is the system by which a decision is en-orced upon those who oppose it.[48] The whole systemof representative government and majority rule iso him a bad thing.[49] He points to such instancesas the agreements among the different railway systemsof the Continent for the running of throughexpresses and for co-operation generally. He pointsout that in such cases the different companies orauthorities concerned each appoint a delegate, and thathe delegates suggest a basis of agreement, which haso be subsequently ratified by each of the bodies ap-pointing them. The assembly of delegates has nocoercive power whatever, and a majority can donothing against a recalcitrant minority. Yet this hasnot prevented the conclusion of very elaborate systemsof agreements. By such methods, so Anarchists

contend, the USEFUL functions of government can becarried out without any coercion. They maintainhat the usefulness of agreement is so patent as tomake co-operation certain if once the predatorymotives associated with the present system of privateproperty were removed.

48] `Òn the other hand, the STATE has also been confused withGOVERNMENT. As there can be no State without government, ithas been sometimes said that it is the absence of government,

and not the abolition of the State, that should be the aim.



Ìt seems to me, however, that State and government representwo ideas of a different kind. The State idea implies quiteanother idea to that of government. It not only includes theexistence of a power placed above society, but also a territorialconcentration and a concentration of many functions of the lifeof society in the hands of a few or even of all. It implies newelations among the members of society.

`This characteristic distinction, which perhaps escapesnotice at first sight, appears clearly when the origin of the States studied.'' Kropotkin, ``The State.'' p. 4.

49] Representative government has accomplished its historicalmission; it has given a mortal blow to Court-rule; and byts debates it has awakened public interest in public questions.But, to see in it the government of the future Socialist society,s to commit a gross error. Each economical phase of lifemplies its own political phase; and it is impossible to touch thevery basis of the present economical life--private property--

without a corresponding change in the very basis of the politicalorganization. Life already shows in which direction the changewill be made. Not in increasing the powers of the State, butn resorting to free organization and free federation in all thosebranches which are now considered as attributes of the State.''Kropotkin, ̀ Ànarchist Communism,'' pp. 28-29.

Attractive as this view is, I cannot resist theconclusion that it results from impatience andepresents the attempt to find a short-cut toward thedeal which all humane people desire.

Let us begin with the question of private crime.[50]Anarchists maintain that the criminal is manufacturedby bad social conditions and would disappearn such a world as they aim at creating.[51] No doubthere is a great measure of truth in this view. Therewould be little motive to robbery, for example, in anAnarchist world, unless it were organized on a largescale by a body of men bent on upsetting the Anarchist

egime. It may also be conceded that impulsesoward criminal violence could be very largely eliminatedby a better education. But all such contentions,t seems to me, have their limitations. To takean extreme case, we cannot suppose that there wouldbe no lunatics in an Anarchist community, and someof these lunatics would, no doubt, be homicidal.Probably no one would argue that they ought to beeft at liberty. But there are no sharp lines in nature;rom the homicidal lunatic to the sane manof violent passions there is a continuous gradation.

Even in the most perfect community there will be



men and women, otherwise sane, who will feel anmpulse to commit murder from jealousy. These arenow usually restrained by the fear of punishment,but if this fear were removed, such murders wouldprobably become much more common, as may beseen from the present behavior of certain soldierson leave. Moreover, certain kinds of conduct arousepublic hostility, and would almost inevitably lead toynching, if no other recognized method of punishment

existed. There is in most men a certain naturalvindictiveness, not always directed against the worstmembers of the community. For example, Spinozawas very nearly murdered by the mob because he wassuspected of undue friendliness to France at a timewhen Holland was at war with that country. Apartrom such cases, there would be the very real dangerof an organized attempt to destroy Anarchismand revive ancient oppressions. Is it to be supposed,or example, that Napoleon, if he had been born intosuch a community as Kropotkin advocates, would

have acquiesced tamely in a world where his geniuscould find no scope? I cannot see what should preventa combination of ambitious men forming themselvesnto a private army, manufacturing their ownmunitions, and at last enslaving the defenseless citizens,who had relied upon the inherent attractivenessof liberty. It would not be consistent with the principlesof Anarchism for the community to interferewith the drilling of a private army, no matter whatts objects might be (though, of course, an opposingprivate army might be formed by men with differentviews). Indeed, Kropotkin instances the old volunteersn Great Britain as an example of a movementon Anarchist lines.[52] Even if a predatory army werenot formed from within, it might easily come from aneighboring nation, or from races on the borderlandof civilization. So long as the love of power exists,do not see how it can be prevented from finding an

outlet in oppression except by means of the organizedorce of the community.

50] On this subject there is an excellent discussion in thebefore-mentioned work of Monsieur Naquet.

51] `Às to the third--the chief--objection, which maintainshe necessity of a government for punishing those who break theaw of society, there is so much to say about it that it hardly canbe touched incidentally. The more we study the question, themore we are brought to the conclusion that society itself isesponsible for the anti-social deeds perpetrated in its midst, andhat no punishment, no prisons, and no hangmen can diminish

he numbers of such deeds; nothing short of a reorganization of



society itself. Three-quarters of all the acts which are broughtevery year before our courts have their origin, either directly orndirectly, in the present disorganized state of society withegard to the production and distribution of wealth--not in the

perversity of human nature. As to the relatively few anti-socialdeeds which result from anti-social inclinations of separatendividuals, it is not by prisons, nor even by resorting to thehangmen, that we can diminish their numbers. By our prisons,we merely multiply them and render them worse. By our detectives,

our ̀ price of blood,' our executions, and our jails, wespread in society such a terrible flow of basest passions andhabits, that he who should realize the effects of these institutionso their full extent, would be frightened by what society isdoing under the pretext of maintaining morality. We mustsearch for other remedies, and the remedies have been indicatedong since.'' Kropotkin, ̀ Ànarchist Communism,'' pp. 31-32.

52] ̀ Ànarchist Communism,'' p. 27.

The conclusion, which appears to be forced uponus, is that the Anarchist ideal of a community inwhich no acts are forbidden by law is not, at anyate for the present, compatible with the stability of

such a world as the Anarchists desire. In order toobtain and preserve a world resembling as closelyas possible that at which they aim, it will still benecessary that some acts should be forbidden byaw. We may put the chief of these under threeheads:

. Theft.

2. Crimes of violence.

3. The creation of organizations intended to subverthe Anarchist regime by force.

We will briefly recapitulate what has been saidalready as to the necessity of these prohibitions.

. Theft.--It is true that in an Anarchist worldhere will be no destitution, and therefore no theftsmotivated by starvation. But such thefts are at presentby no means the most considerable or the mostharmful. The system of rationing, which is to beapplied to luxuries, will leave many men with feweruxuries than they might desire. It will giveopportunities for peculation by those who are in controlof the public stores, and it will leave the possibility ofappropriating such valuable objects of art as wouldnaturally be preserved in public museums. It may

be contended that such forms of theft would be prevented



by public opinion. But public opinion is notgreatly operative upon an individual unless it is theopinion of his own group. A group of men combinedor purposes of theft might readily defy the publicopinion of the majority unless that public opinionmade itself effective by the use of force against them.Probably, in fact, such force would be appliedhrough popular indignation, but in that case weshould revive the evils of the criminal law with the

added evils of uncertainty, haste and passion, whichare inseparable from the practice of lynching. If,as we have suggested, it were found necessary to providean economic stimulus to work by allowing feweruxuries to idlers, this would afford a new motive forheft on their part and a new necessity for some formof criminal law.

2. Crimes of Violence.--Cruelty to children,crimes of jealousy, rape, and so forth, are almostcertain to occur in any society to some extent. The

prevention of such acts is essential to the existenceof freedom for the weak. If nothing were done tohinder them, it is to be feared that the customs of asociety would gradually become rougher, and thatacts which are now rare would cease to be so. IfAnarchists are right in maintaining that the existenceof such an economic system as they desire wouldprevent the commission of crimes of this kind, theaws forbidding them would no longer come intooperation, and would do no harm to liberty. If, onhe other hand, the impulse to such actions persisted,t would be necessary that steps should be taken toestrain men from indulging it.

3. The third class of difficulties is much the mostserious and involves much the most drastic interferencewith liberty. I do not see how a private armycould be tolerated within an Anarchist community,and I do not see how it could be prevented except bya general prohibition of carrying arms. If therewere no such prohibition, rival parties would organize

ival forces, and civil war would result. Yet, if theres such a prohibition, it cannot well be carried outwithout a very considerable interference with individualberty. No doubt, after a time, the idea of

using violence to achieve a political object might diedown, as the practice of duelling has done. But suchchanges of habit and outlook are facilitated by legalprohibition, and would hardly come about withoutt. I shall not speak yet of the international aspectof this same problem, for I propose to deal with thatn the next chapter, but it is clear that the same

considerations apply with even greater force to the



elations between nations.

f we admit, however reluctantly, that a criminalaw is necessary and that the force of the communitymust be brought to bear to prevent certain kinds ofactions, a further question arises: How is crime to bereated? What is the greatest measure of humanityand respect for freedom that is compatible with theecognition of such a thing as crime? The first thing

o recognize is that the whole conception of guilt orsin should be utterly swept away. At present, thecriminal is visited with the displeasure of the community:he sole method applied to prevent the occurrenceof crime is the infliction of pain upon thecriminal. Everything possible is done to break hisspirit and destroy his self-respect. Even thosepleasures which would be most likely to have a civilizingeffect are forbidden to him, merely on the groundhat they are pleasures, while much of the sufferingnflicted is of a kind which can only brutalize and

degrade still further. I am not speaking, of course,of those few penal institutions which have made aserious study of reforming the criminal. Suchnstitutions, especially in America, have been provedcapable of achieving the most remarkable results, buthey remain everywhere exceptional. The broad rules still that the criminal is made to feel the displeasureof society. He must emerge from such a treatmenteither defiant and hostile, or submissive and cringing,with a broken spirit and a loss of self-respect.Neither of these results is anything but evil. Norcan any good result be achieved by a method of treatmentwhich embodies reprobation.

When a man is suffering from an infectious diseasehe is a danger to the community, and it is necessaryo restrict his liberty of movement. But no oneassociates any idea of guilt with such a situation.On the contrary, he is an object of commiseration tohis friends. Such steps as science recommends areaken to cure him of his disease, and he submits as

a rule without reluctance to the curtailment of libertynvolved meanwhile. The same method in spirit oughto be shown in the treatment of what is called`crime.'' It is supposed, of course, that the criminals actuated by calculations of self-interest, andhat the fear of punishment, by supplying a contrarymotive of self-interest affords the best deterrent,

The dog, to gain some private end,Went mad and bit the man.

This is the popular view of crime; yet no dog goes

mad from choice, and probably the same is true of the



great majority of criminals, certainly in the caseof crimes of passion. Even in cases where self-interests the motive, the important thing is to preventhe crime, not to make the criminal suffer. Anysuffering which may be entailed by the process ofprevention ought to be regarded as regrettable, like thepain involved in a surgical operation. The man whocommits a crime from an impulse to violence oughto be subjected to a scientific psychological treatment,

designed to elicit more beneficial impulses. Theman who commits a crime from calculations of self-nterest ought to be made to feel that self-interesttself, when it is fully understood, can be better servedby a life which is useful to the community than by onewhich is harmful. For this purpose it is chiefly necessaryo widen his outlook and increase the scope of hisdesires. At present, when a man suffers from insufficientove for his fellow-creatures, the method ofcuring him which is commonly adopted seems scarcelydesigned to succeed, being, indeed, in essentials, the

same as his attitude toward them. The object ofhe prison administration is to save trouble, not tostudy the individual case. He is kept in captivity ina cell from which all sight of the earth is shut out: hes subjected to harshness by warders, who have toooften become brutalized by their occupation.[53] He issolemnly denounced as an enemy to society. He iscompelled to perform mechanical tasks, chosen forheir wearisomeness. He is given no education and noncentive to self-improvement. Is it to be wonderedat if, at the end of such a course of treatment, hiseelings toward the community are no more friendlyhan they were at the beginning?

53] This was written before the author had any personalexperience of the prison system. He personally met withnothing but kindness at the hands of the prison officials.

Severity of punishment arose through vindictiveness

and fear in an age when many criminals escapedustice altogether, and it was hoped that savagesentences would outweigh the chance of escape in themind of the criminal. At present a very large partof the criminal law is concerned in safeguarding theights of property, that is to say--as things are

now--the unjust privileges of the rich. Those whoseprinciples lead them into conflict with government,ke Anarchists, bring a most formidable indictment

against the law and the authorities for the unjustmanner in which they support the status quo. Many

of the actions by which men have become rich are far



more harmful to the community than the obscurecrimes of poor men, yet they go unpunished becausehey do not interfere with the existing order. If thepower of the community is to be brought to bear toprevent certain classes of actions through the agencyof the criminal law, it is as necessary that theseactions should really be those which are harmful tohe community, as it is that the treatment of ``criminals''should be freed from the conception of guilt

and inspired by the same spirit as is shown in thereatment of disease. But, if these two conditionswere fulfilled, I cannot help thinking that a societywhich preserved the existence of law would be preferableo one conducted on the unadulterated principlesof Anarchism.

So far we have been considering the power whichhe State derives from the criminal law. We haveevery reason to think that this power cannot beentirely abolished, though it can be exercised in a

wholly different spirit, without the vindictiveness andhe moral reprobation which now form its essence.

We come next to the consideration of the economicpower of the State and the influence which itcan exert through its bureaucracy. State Socialistsargue as if there would be no danger to liberty in aState not based upon capitalism. This seems to me anentire delusion. Given an official caste, however selected,here are bound to be a set of men whose wholenstincts will drive them toward tyranny. Togetherwith the natural love of power, they will have a rootedconviction (visible now in the higher ranks of theCivil Service) that they alone know enough to be ableo judge what is for the good of the community. Likeall men who administer a system, they will come toeel the system itself sacrosanct. The only changeshey will desire will be changes in the direction ofurther regulations as to how the people are toenjoy the good things kindly granted to them by theirbenevolent despots. Whoever thinks this picture overdrawn

must have failed to study the influence andmethods of Civil Servants at present. On every matterhat arises, they know far more than the generalpublic about all the DEFINITE facts involved; the onehing they do not know is ``where the shoe pinches.''But those who know this are probably not skilled instating their case, not able to say off-hand exactlyhow many shoes are pinching how many feet, or whats the precise remedy required. The answer preparedor Ministers by the Civil Service is accepted by the`respectable'' public as impartial, and is regarded

as disposing of the case of malcontents except on a



irst-class political question on which elections maybe won or lost. That at least is the way in whichhings are managed in England. And there is everyeason to fear that under State Socialism the power

of officials would be vastly greater than it is atpresent.

Those who accept the orthodox doctrine of democracycontend that, if ever the power of capital were

emoved, representative institutions would suffice toundo the evils threatened by bureaucracy. Againsthis view, Anarchists and Syndicalists have directeda merciless criticism. French Syndicalists especially,ving, as they do, in a highly democratized country,

have had bitter experience of the way in which thepower of the State can be employed against aprogressive minority. This experience has led them toabandon altogether the belief in the divine right ofmajorities. The Constitution that they would desirewould be one which allowed scope for vigorous minorities,

conscious of their aims and prepared to workor them. It is undeniable that, to all who care forprogress, actual experience of democratic representativeGovernment is very disillusioning. Admitting--as I think we must--that it is preferable to anyPREVIOUS form of Government, we must yet acknowledgehat much of the criticism directed against it byAnarchists and Syndicalists is thoroughly justified.

Such criticism would have had more influence ifany clear idea of an alternative to parliamentarydemocracy had been generally apprehended. But itmust be confessed that Syndicalists have not presentedheir case in a way which is likely to attracthe average citizen. Much of what they say amountso this: that a minority, consisting of skilled workersn vital industries, can, by a strike, make the economicfe of the whole community impossible, and can inhis way force their will upon the nation. The actionaimed at is compared to the seizure of a powerstation, by which a whole vast system can be paralyzed.

Such a doctrine is an appeal to force, ands naturally met by an appeal to force on the otherside. It is useless for the Syndicalists to protest thathey only desire power in order to promote liberty:he world which they are seeking to establish does not,as yet, appeal to the effective will of the community,and cannot be stably inaugurated until it does do so.Persuasion is a slow process, and may sometimesbe accelerated by violent methods; to this extent suchmethods may be justified. But the ultimate goal ofany reformer who aims at liberty can only be reached

hrough persuasion. The attempt to thrust liberty



by force upon those who do not desire what we considerberty must always prove a failure; and Syndicalists,ke other reformers, must ultimately rely

upon persuasion for success.

But it would be a mistake to confuse aims withmethods: however little we may agree with the proposalo force the millennium on a reluctant communityby starvation, we may yet agree that much of

what the Syndicalists desire to achieve is desirable.

Let us dismiss from our minds such criticisms ofparliamentary government as are bound up with thepresent system of private property, and consideronly those which would remain true in a collectivistcommunity. Certain defects seem inherent in thevery nature of representative institutions. There isa sense of self-importance, inseparable from successn a contest for popular favor. There is an all-butunavoidable habit of hypocrisy, since experience

shows that the democracy does not detect insincerityn an orator, and will, on the other hand, be shockedby things which even the most sincere men may thinknecessary. Hence arises a tone of cynicism amongelected representatives, and a feeling that no mancan retain his position in politics without deceit.This is as much the fault of the democracy as of theepresentatives, but it seems unavoidable so long ashe main thing that all bodies of men demand of theirchampions is flattery. However the blame may beapportioned, the evil must be recognized as one whichs bound to occur in the existing forms of democracy.Another evil, which is especially noticeable in largeStates, is the remoteness of the seat of governmentrom many of the constituencies--a remoteness whichs psychological even more than geographical. Theegislators live in comfort, protected by thick wallsand innumerable policemen from the voice of themob; as time goes on they remember only dimly thepassions and promises of their electoral campaign;hey come to feel it an essential part of statesmanship

o consider what are called the interests of the communityas a whole, rather than those of some discontentedgroup; but the interests of the community asa whole are sufficiently vague to be easily seen tocoincide with self-interest. All these causes leadParliaments to betray the people, consciously orunconsciously; and it is no wonder if they have produceda certain aloofness from democratic theory in themore vigorous champions of labor.

Majority rule, as it exists in large States, is

subject to the fatal defect that, in a very great number



of questions, only a fraction of the nation haveany direct interest or knowledge, yet the others havean equal voice in their settlement. When people haveno direct interest in a question they are very apto be influenced by irrelevant considerations; this isshown in the extraordinary reluctance to grant autonomyo subordinate nations or groups. For thiseason, it is very dangerous to allow the nation as a

whole to decide on matters which concern only a small

section, whether that section be geographical orndustrial or defined in any other way. The bestcure for this evil, so far as can be seen at present,es in allowing self-government to every important

group within a nation in all matters that affect thatgroup much more than they affect the rest of thecommunity. The government of a group, chosen byhe group, will be far more in touch with its constituents,ar more conscious of their interests, than aemote Parliament nominally representing the whole

country. The most original idea in Syndicalism--

adopted and developed by the Guild Socialists--is thedea of making industries self-governing units so faras their internal affairs are concerned. By thismethod, extended also to such other groups as haveclearly separable interests, the evils which have shownhemselves in representative democracy can, I believe,be largely overcome.

Guild Socialists, as we have seen, have anothersuggestion, growing naturally out of the autonomyof industrial guilds, by which they hope to limit thepower of the State and help to preserve individualberty. They propose that, in addition to Parliament,

elected (as at present) on a territorial basisand representing the community as consumers, thereshall also be a ``Guild Congress,'' a glorified successorof the present Trade Union Congress, whichshall consist of representatives chosen by the Guilds,and shall represent the community as producers.

This method of diminishing the excessive power

of the State has been attractively set forth by Mr.G. D. H. Cole in his ``Self-Government in Industry.''[54]`Where now,'' he says, ̀ `the State passes a Factory

Act, or a Coal Mines Regulation Act, the Guild Congressof the future will pass such Acts, and its powerof enforcing them will be the same as that of theState'' (p. 98). His ultimate ground for advocatinghis system is that, in his opinion, it will tend to preservendividual liberty: ``The fundamental reasonor the preservation, in a democratic Society, of bothhe industrial and the political forms of Social organization

s, it seems to me, that only by dividing the



vast power now wielded by industrial capitalism canhe individual hope to be free'' (p. 91).

54] Bell, 1917.

Will the system suggested by Mr. Cole have thisesult? I think it is clear that it would, in this

espect, be an improvement on the existing system.Representative government cannot but be improvedby any method which brings the representatives intocloser touch with the interests concerned in theiregislation; and this advantage probably would besecured by handing over questions of production tohe Guild Congress. But if, in spite of the safeguardsproposed by the Guild Socialists, the Guild Congressbecame all-powerful in such questions, if resistanceo its will by a Guild which felt ill-used became practicallyhopeless, I fear that the evils now connected

with the omnipotence of the State would soon reappear.Trade Union officials, as soon as they becomepart of the governing forces in the country, tend tobecome autocratic and conservative; they lose touchwith their constituents and gravitate, by a psychologicalsympathy, into co-operation with the powershat be. Their formal installation in authorityhrough the Guilds Congress would accelerate thisprocess. They would soon tend to combine, in effectf not obviously, with those who wield authority inParliament. Apart from occasional conflicts, comparableo the rivalry of opposing financiers whichnow sometimes disturbs the harmony of the capitalistworld, there would, at most times, be agreementbetween the dominant personalities in the twoHouses. And such harmony would filch away fromhe individual the liberty which he had hoped tosecure by the quarrels of his masters.

There is no method, if we are not mistaken, bywhich a body representing the whole community,

whether as producers or consumers or both, canalone be a sufficient guardian of individual liberty.The only way of preserving sufficient liberty (andeven this will be inadequate in the case of very smallminorities) is the organization of citizens with specialnterests into groups, determined to preserve autonomyas regards their internal affairs, willing toesist interference by a strike if necessary, and

sufficiently powerful (either in themselves or throughheir power of appealing to public sympathy) to beable to resist the organized forces of government

successfully when their cause is such as many men



hink just. If this method is to be successful wemust have not only suitable organizations but alsoa diffused respect for liberty, and an absence ofsubmissiveness to government both in theory and practice.Some risk of disorder there must be in such asociety, but this risk is as nothing compared to thedanger of stagnation which is inseparable from anall-powerful central authority.

We may now sum up our discussion of the powersof Government.

The State, in spite of what Anarchists urge, seemsa necessary institution for certain purposes. Peaceand war, tariffs, regulation of sanitary conditionsand of the sale of noxious drugs, the preservation ofa just system of distribution: these, among others,are functions which could hardly be performed ina community in which there was no central government.Take, for example, the liquor traffic, or

he opium traffic in China. If alcohol could beobtained at cost price without taxation, still moref it could be obtained for nothing, as Anarchistspresumably desire, can we believe that there would notbe a great and disastrous increase of drunkenness?China was brought to the verge of ruin by opium,and every patriotic Chinaman desired to see the trafficn opium restricted. In such matters freedom isnot a panacea, and some degree of legal restrictionseems imperative for the national health.

But granting that the State, in some form, mustcontinue, we must also grant, I think, that its powersought to be very strictly limited to what is absolutelynecessary. There is no way of limiting itspowers except by means of groups which are jealousof their privileges and determined to preserve theirautonomy, even if this should involve resistance toaws decreed by the State, when these laws interfere inhe internal affairs of a group in ways not warrantedby the public interest. The glorification of the State,

and the doctrine that it is every citizen's duty to servehe State, are radically against progress and againstberty. The State, though at present a source of

much evil, is also a means to certain good things,and will be needed so long as violent and destructivempulses remain common. But it is MERELY a means,and a means which needs to be very carefully andsparingly used if it is not to do more harm than good.t is not the State, but the community, the worldwidecommunity of all human beings present anduture, that we ought to serve. And a good community

does not spring from the glory of the State,



but from the unfettered development of individuals:rom happiness in daily life, from congenial workgiving opportunity for whatever constructivenesseach man or woman may possess, from free personalelations embodying love and taking away the roots

of envy in thwarted capacity from affection, andabove all from the joy of life and its expression inhe spontaneous creations of art and science. It ishese things that make an age or a nation worthy

of existence, and these things are not to be securedby bowing down before the State. It is the individualn whom all that is good must be realized, and theree growth of the individual must be the supreme endof a political system which is to re-fashion the world.

CHAPTER VI

NTERNATIONAL RELATIONS

THE main objects which should be served by internationalelations may be taken to be two: First, the

avoidance of wars, and, second, the prevention of theoppression of weak nations by strong ones. Thesewo objects do not by any means necessarily lead inhe same direction, since one of the easiest ways ofsecuring the world's peace would be by a combinationof the most powerful States for the exploitation andoppression of the remainder. This method, however,s not one which the lover of liberty can favor. Wemust keep account of both aims and not be contentwith either alone.

One of the commonplaces of both Socialism andAnarchism is that all modern wars are due to capitalism,and would cease if capitalism were abolished.This view, to my mind, is only a half-truth; the halfhat is true is important, but the half that is untrues perhaps equally important when a fundamental

econstruction of society is being considered.

Socialist and Anarchist critics of existing societypoint, with perfect truth, to certain capitalistic factorswhich promote war. The first of these is thedesire of finance to find new fields of investment inundeveloped countries. Mr. J. A. Hobson, an authorwho is by no means extreme in his views, has wellstated this point in his book on ``The Evolution ofModern Capitalism.''[55] He says:



55] Walter Scott Publishing Company, 1906, p. 262.

The economic tap-root, the chief directing motive ofall the modern imperialistic expansion, is the pressure ofcapitalist industries for markets, primarily markets fornvestment, secondarily markets for surplus products ofhome industry. Where the concentration of capital hasgone furthest, and where a rigorous protective system prevails,

his pressure is necessarily strongest. Not merelydo the trusts and other manufacturing trades that restrictheir output for the home market more urgently requireoreign markets, but they are also more anxious to secureprotected markets, and this can only be achieved by extendinghe area of political rule. This is the essentialsignificance of the recent change in American foreignpolicy as illustrated by the Spanish War, the Philippineannexation, the Panama policy, and the new applicationof the Monroe doctrine to the South American States.South America is needed as a preferential market for

nvestment of trust ``profits'' and surplus trust products:f in time these states can be brought within a Zollvereinunder the suzerainty of the United States, the financialarea of operations receives a notable accession. Chinaas a field of railway enterprise and general industrialdevelopment already begins to loom large in the eyes oforesighted American business men; the growing traden American cotton and other goods in that country willbe a subordinate consideration to the expansion of thearea for American investments. Diplomatic pressure,armed force, and, where desirable, seizure of territory forpolitical control, will be engineered by the financial magnateswho control the political destiny of America. Thestrong and expensive American navy now beginning tobe built incidentally serves the purpose of affordingprofitable contracts to the shipbuilding and metal industries:ts real meaning and use is to forward the aggressivepolitical policy imposed upon the nation by the economicneeds of the financial capitalists.

t should be clearly understood that this constant

pressure to extend the area of markets is not a necessarymplication of all forms of organized industry. If competitionwas displaced by combinations of a genuinelycooperative character in which the whole gain of improvedeconomies passed, either to the workers in wages,or to large bodies of investors in dividends, the expansionof demand in the home markets would be so greatas to give full employment to the productive powers ofconcentrated capital, and there would be no self-accumulatingmasses of profit expressing themselves in newcredit and demanding external employment. It is the

`monopoly'' profits of trusts and combines, taken either



n construction, financial operation, or industrial working,hat form a gathering fund of self-accumulating creditwhose possession by the financial class implies a contracteddemand for commodities and a correspondinglyestricted employment for capital in American industries.

Within certain limits relief can be found by stimulationof the export trade under cover of a high protectiveariff which forbids all interference with monopoly ofhe home markets. But it is extremely difficult for

rusts adapted to the requirements of a profitable tiedmarket at home to adjust their methods of free competitionn the world markets upon a profitable basis ofsteady trading. Moreover, such a mode of expansion isonly appropriate to certain manufacturing trusts: theowners of railroad, financial and other trusts must lookalways more to foreign investments for their surplusprofits. This ever-growing need for fresh fields of investmentor their profits is the great crux of the financialsystem, and threatens to dominate the future economicsand the politics of the great Republic.

The financial economy of American capitalism exhibitsn more dramatic shape a tendency common to theinance of all developed industrial nations. The large,easy flow of capital from Great Britain, Germany, Austria,France, etc., into South African or Australian mines,nto Egyptian bonds, or the precarious securities of SouthAmerican republics, attests the same general pressurewhich increases with every development of financial machineryand the more profitable control of that machineryby the class of professional financiers

The kind of way in which such conditions tendoward war might have been illustrated, if Mr. Hobsonhad been writing at a later date, by various moreecent cases. A higher rate of interest is obtainable

on enterprises in an undeveloped country than in adeveloped one, provided the risks connected with anunsettled government can be minimized. To minimizehese risks the financiers call in the assistance of the

military and naval forces of the country which theyare momentarily asserting to be theirs. In order tohave the support of public opinion in this demandhey have recourse to the power of the Press.

The Press is the second great factor to whichcritics of capitalism point when they wish to provehat capitalism is the source of modern war. Sincehe running of a big newspaper requires a large capital,he proprietors of important organs necessarilybelong to the capitalist class, and it will be a rare

and exceptional event if they do not sympathize with



heir own class in opinion and outlook. They areable to decide what news the great mass of newspapereaders shall be allowed to have. They can

actually falsify the news, or, without going so faras that, they can carefully select it, giving such itemsas will stimulate the passions which they desire tostimulate, and suppressing such items as would providehe antidote. In this way the picture of theworld in the mind of the average newspaper reader

s made to be not a true picture, but in the mainhat which suits the interests of capitalists. This isrue in many directions, but above all in what con-cerns the relations between nations. The mass of thepopulation of a country can be led to love or hateany other country at the will of the newspaper proprietors,which is often, directly or indirectly, influencedby the will of the great financiers. So long asenmity between England and Russia was desired,our newspapers were full of the cruel treatment metedout to Russian political prisoners, the oppression of

Finland and Russian Poland, and other such topics.As soon as our foreign policy changed, these itemsdisappeared from the more important newspapers,and we heard instead of the misdeeds of Germany.Most men are not sufficiently critical to be on theirguard against such influences, and until they are, thepower of the Press will remain.

Besides these two influences of capitalism inpromoting war, there is another, much less emphasizedby the critics of capitalism, but by no means lessmportant: I mean the pugnacity which tends to bedeveloped in men who have the habit of command.So long as capitalist society persists, an undue measureof power will be in the hands of those who haveacquired wealth and influence through a great positionn industry or finance. Such men are in thehabit, in private life, of finding their will seldomquestioned; they are surrounded by obsequious satellitesand are not infrequently engaged in conflictswith Trade Unions. Among their friends and

acquaintances are included those who hold high positionsn government or administration, and these menequally are liable to become autocratic through thehabit of giving orders. It used to be customary tospeak of the ``governing classes,'' but nominal democracyhas caused this phrase to go out of fashion.Nevertheless, it still retains much truth; there arestill in any capitalist community those who commandand those who as a rule obey. The outlook of thesewo classes is very different, though in a modernsociety there is a continuous gradation from the extreme

of the one to the extreme of the other. The



man who is accustomed to find submission to his willbecomes indignant on the occasions when he findsopposition. Instinctively he is convinced that oppositions wicked and must be crushed. He is thereforemuch more willing than the average citizen to resorto war against his rivals. Accordingly we find,hough, of course, with very notable exceptions,hat in the main those who have most power aremost warlike, and those who have least power are

east disposed to hatred of foreign nations. This isone of the evils inseparable from the concentrationof power. It will only be cured by the abolition ofcapitalism if the new system is one which allows verymuch less power to single individuals. It will not becured by a system which substitutes the power ofMinisters or officials for the power of capitalistsThis is one reason, additional to those mentioned inhe preceding chapter, for desiring to see a diminutionn the authority of the State.

Not only does the concentration of power tendo cause wars, but, equally, wars and the fear of thembring about the necessity for the concentration ofpower. So long as the community is exposed tosudden dangers, the possibility of quick decision isabsolutely necessary to self-preservation. The cumbrousmachinery of deliberative decisions by thepeople is impossible in a crisis, and therefore so longas crises are likely to occur, it is impossible to abolishhe almost autocratic power of governments. In thiscase, as in most others, each of two correlative evilsends to perpetuate the other. The existence of menwith the habit of power increases the risk of war,and the risk of war makes it impossible to establisha system where no man possesses great power.

So far we have been considering what is true inhe contention that capitalism causes modern wars.t is time now to look at the other side, and to askourselves whether the abolition of capitalism would,by itself, be sufficient to prevent war.

do not myself believe that this is the case. Theoutlook of both Socialists and Anarchists seems tome, in this respect as in some others, to be undulydivorced from the fundamental instincts of humannature. There were wars before there was capital-sm, and fighting is habitual among animals. Thepower of the Press in promoting war is entirely dueo the fact that it is able to appeal to certainnstincts. Man is naturally competitive, acquisitive,and, in a greater or less degree, pugnacious. When

he Press tells him that so-and-so is his enemy, a whole



set of instincts in him responds to the suggestion. Its natural to most men to suppose that they haveenemies and to find a certain fulfillment of their naturewhen they embark upon a contest. What a manbelieves upon grossly insufficient evidence is an indexo his desires--desires of which he himself is oftenunconscious. If a man is offered a fact which goesagainst his instincts, he will scrutinize it closely, andunless the evidence is overwhelming, he will refuse to

believe it. If, on the other hand, he is offered somethingwhich affords a reason for acting in accordancewith his instincts, he will accept it even on the slenderestevidence. The origin of myths is explained in thisway, and much of what is currently believed innternational affairs is no better than myth. Althoughcapitalism affords in modern society the channel bywhich the instinct of pugnacity finds its outlet, theres reason to fear that, if this channel were closed,some other would be found, unless education andenvironment were so changed as enormously to diminish

he strength of the competitive instinct. If aneconomic reorganization can effect this it may pro-vide a real safeguard against war, but if not, it iso be feared that the hopes of universal peace willprove delusive.

The abolition of capitalism might, and very likelywould, greatly diminish the incentives to war whichare derived from the Press and from the desire ofinance to find new fields for investment in undevelopedcountries, but those which are derived from thenstinct of command and the impatience of oppositionmight remain, though perhaps in a less virulentorm than at present. A democracy which has powers almost always more bellicose than one which isexcluded from its due share in the government. Thenternationalism of Marx is based upon the assumptionhat the proletariat everywhere are oppressed byhe ruling classes. The last words of the CommunistManifesto embody this idea--

Let the ruling classes tremble at a Communisticevolution. The proletarians have nothing to lose butheir chains. They have a world to win. Working menof all countries, unite!

So long as the proletarians have nothing to losebut their chains, it is not likely that their enmitywill be directed against other proletarians. If theworld had developed as Marx expected, the kind of

nternationalism which he foresaw might have inspired



a universal social revolution. Russia, which devel-oped more nearly than any other country upon thenes of his system, has had a revolution of the kind

which he expected. If the development in other countrieshad been similar, it is highly probable that thisevolution would have spread throughout the civilized

world. The proletariat of all countries might haveunited against the capitalists as their commonenemy, and in the bond of an identical hatred they

might for the moment have been free from hatredoward each other. Even then, this ground of unionwould have ceased with their victory, and on the morrowof the social revolution the old national rivalriesmight have revived. There is no alchemy by whicha universal harmony can be produced out of hatred.Those who have been inspired to action by the doctrineof the class war will have acquired the habitof hatred, and will instinctively seek new enemieswhen the old ones have been vanquished.

But in actual fact the psychology of the workingman in any of the Western democracies is totallyunlike that which is assumed in the CommunistManifesto. He does not by any means feel that hehas nothing to lose but his chains, nor indeed is thisrue. The chains which bind Asia and Africa insubjection to Europe are partly riveted by him. He ishimself part of a great system of tyranny andexploitation. Universal freedom would remove, not onlyhis own chains, which are comparatively light, buthe far heavier chains which he has helped to fastenupon the subject races of the world.

Not only do the working men of a country likeEngland have a share in the benefit accruing from theexploitation of inferior races, but many among themalso have their part in the capitalist system. Theunds of Trade Unions and Friendly Societies arenvested in ordinary undertakings, such as railways;many of the better-paid wage-earners have put theirsavings into government securities; and almost all

who are politically active feel themselves part of theorces that determine public policy, through thepower of the Labor Party and the greater unions.Owing to these causes their outlook on life has becomeo a considerable extent impregnated with capitalismand as their sense of power has grown, theirnationalism has increased. This must continue tobe true of any internationalism which is based uponhatred of the capitalist and adherence to the doctrineof the class war. Something more positiveand constructive than this is needed if governing

democracies are not to inherit the vices of governing



classes in the past.

do not wish to be thought to deny that capitalismdoes very much to promote wars, or that warswould probably be less frequent and less destructivef private property were abolished. On the contrary,believe that the abolition of private ownership of

and and capital is a necessary step toward anyworld in which the nations are to live at peace with

one another. I am only arguing that this step, necessaryas it is, will not alone suffice for this end, but thatamong the causes of war there are others that godeeper into the roots of human nature than any thatorthodox Socialists are wont to acknowledge.

Let us take an instance. In Australia and Californiahere is an intense dislike and fear toward theyellow races. The causes of this are complex; thechief among them are two, labor competition andnstinctive race-hatred. It is probable that, if race-

hatred did not exist, the difficulties of labor competitioncould be overcome. European immigrants alsocompete, but they are not excluded. In a sparselypopulated country, industrious cheap labor could,with a little care, be so utilized as to enrich the existingnhabitants; it might, for example, be confined tocertain kinds of work, by custom if not by law. Butace-hatred opens men's minds to the evils of

competition and closes them against the advantages ofco-operation; it makes them regard with horror thesomewhat unfamiliar vices of the aliens, while ourown vices are viewed with mild toleration. I cannotbut think that, if Australia were completely socialized,here would still remain the same popular objectionas at present to any large influx of Chinese orJapanese labor. Yet if Japan also were to become aSocialist State, the Japanese might well continue toeel the pressure of population and the desire for anoutlet. In such circumstances, all the passions andnterests required to produce a war would exist, inspite of the establishment of Socialism in both countries.

Ants are as completely Socialistic as any communitycan possibly be, yet they put to death anyant which strays among them by mistake from aneighboring ant-heap. Men do not differ much fromants, as regards their instincts in this respect, where-ever there is a great divergence of race, as betweenwhite men and yellow men. Of course the instinct oface-hostility can be overcome by suitable circumstances;

but in the absence of such circumstances itemains a formidable menace to the world's peace.

f the peace of the world is ever to become secure,



believe there will have to be, along with otherchanges, a development of the idea which inspires theproject of a League of Nations. As time goes on, thedestructiveness of war grows greater and its profitsgrow less: the rational argument against war acquiresmore and more force as the increasing productivityof labor makes it possible to devote a greaterand greater proportion of the population to the workof mutual slaughter. In quiet times, or when a great

war has just ended, men's moods are amenable tohe rational grounds in favor of peace, and it ispossible to inaugurate schemes designed to make warsess frequent. Probably no civilized nation wouldembark upon an aggressive war if it were fairlycertain in advance that the aggressor must be defeated.This could be achieved if most great nationscame to regard the peace of the world as of suchmportance that they would side against an aggressoreven in a quarrel in which they had no direct interest.t is on this hope that the League of Nations is based.

But the League of Nations, like the abolition ofprivate property, will be by no means sufficient if its not accompanied or quickly followed by othereforms. It is clear that such reforms, if they areo be effective, must be international; the world mustmove as a whole in these matters, if it is to move atall. One of the most obvious necessities, if peace is tobe secure, is a measure of disarmament. So long ashe present vast armies and navies exist, no systemcan prevent the risk of war. But disarmament, if its to serve its purpose, must be simultaneous and bymutual agreement among all the Great Powers. Andt is not likely to be successful so long as hatred andsuspicion rule between nations, for each nation willsuspect its neighbor of not carrying out the bargainairly. A different mental and moral atmosphererom that to which we are accustomed in internationalaffairs will be necessary if agreements between nationsare to succeed in averting catastrophes. If once suchan atmosphere existed it might be perpetuated and

strengthened by wise institutions; but it cannot beCREATED by institutions alone. International co-operationequires mutual good will, and good will, howevert has arisen, is only to be PRESERVED by co-operation.The international future depends upon the possibilityof the initial creation of good will between nations.

t is in this sort of matter that revolutions aremost useful. If the Russian Revolution had beenaccompanied by a revolution in Germany, the dramaticsuddenness of the change might have shaken

Europe, for the moment, out of its habits of thought:



he idea of fraternity might have seemed, in thewinkling of an eye, to have entered the world ofpractical politics; and no idea is so practical as thedea of the brotherhood of man, if only people can bestartled into believing in it. If once the idea ofraternity between nations were inaugurated with theaith and vigor belonging to a new revolution, all thedifficulties surrounding it would melt away, for allof them are due to suspicion and the tyranny of

ancient prejudice. Those who (as is common in theEnglish-speaking world) reject revolution as amethod, and praise the gradual piecemeal developmentwhich (we are told) constitutes solid progress,overlook the effect of dramatic events in changinghe mood and the beliefs of whole populations. Asimultaneous revolution in Germany and Russiawould no doubt have had such an effect, and wouldhave made the creation of a new world possible hereand now.

Dis aliter visum: the millennium is not for ourime. The great moment has passed, and for ourselvest is again the distant hope that must inspireus, not the immediate breathless looking for thedeliverance.[56] But we have seen what might have been,and we know that great possibilities do arise in timesof crisis. In some such sense as this, it may wellbe true that the Socialist revolution is the road touniversal peace, and that when it has been traversedall the other conditions for the cessation ofwars will grow of themselves out of the changedmental and moral atmosphere.

56] This was written in March, 1918, almost the darkestmoment of the war.

There is a certain class of difficulties which surroundshe sober idealist in all speculations about thenot too distant future. These are the cases where

he solution believed by most idealists to be universallyapplicable is for some reason impossible, and is,at the same time, objected to for base or interestedmotives by all upholders of existing inequalities. Thecase of Tropical Africa will illustrate what I mean.t would be difficult seriously to advocate the immediatentroduction of parliamentary government forhe natives of this part of the world, even if it wereaccompanied by women's suffrage and proportionalepresentation. So far as I know, no one supposeshe populations of these regions capable of self-

determination, except Mr. Lloyd George. There can



be no doubt that, whatever regime may be introducedn Europe, African negroes will for a long time tocome be governed and exploited by Europeans. Ifhe European States became Socialistic, and refused,under a Quixotic impulse, to enrich themselves at theexpense of the defenseless inhabitants of Africa,hose inhabitants would not thereby gain; on thecontrary, they would lose, for they would be handedover to the tender mercies of individual traders,

operating with armies of reprobate bravos, and committingevery atrocity to which the civilized barbarians prone. The European governments cannot divesthemselves of responsibility in regard to Africa.They must govern there, and the best that can behoped is that they should govern with a minimumof cruelty and rapacity. From the point of view ofpreserving the peace of the world, the problem is toparcel out the advantages which white men deriverom their position in Africa in such a way that nonation shall feel a sense of injustice. This problem

s comparatively simple, and might no doubt be solvedon the lines of the war aims of the Inter-Allied Socialists.But it is not this problem which I wish to discuss.What I wish to consider is, how could a Socialistor an Anarchist community govern and administeran African region, full of natural wealth, butnhabited by a quite uncivilized population? Unlessgreat precautions were taken the white community,under the circumstances, would acquire theposition and the instincts of a slave-owner. Itwould tend to keep the negroes down to the bare levelof subsistence, while using the produce of theircountry to increase the comfort and splendor of theCommunist community. It would do this with thatcareful unconsciousness which now characterizes allhe worst acts of nations. Administrators would beappointed and would be expected to keep silence aso their methods. Busybodies who reported horrorswould be disbelieved, and would be said to be actuatedby hatred toward the existing regime and by a perverseove for every country but their own. No doubt,

n the first generous enthusiasm accompanying theestablishment of the new regime at home, there wouldbe every intention of making the natives happy, butgradually they would be forgotten, and only theribute coming from their country would beemembered. I do not say that all these evils are

unavoidable; I say only that they will not be avoidedunless they are foreseen and a deliberate consciouseffort is made to prevent their realization. If thewhite communities should ever reach the point ofwishing to carry out as far as possible the principles

underlying the revolt against capitalism, they will



have to find a way of establishing an absolutedisinterestedness in their dealings with subject races. Itwill be necessary to avoid the faintest suggestion ofcapitalistic profit in the government of Africa, ando spend in the countries themselves whatever theywould be able to spend if they were self-governing.Moreover, it must always be remembered that backwardnessn civilization is not necessarily incurable,and that with time even the populations of Central

Africa may become capable of democratic self-government,provided Europeans bend their energies tohis purpose.

The problem of Africa is, of course, a part of thewider problems of Imperialism, but it is that part inwhich the application of Socialist principles is mostdifficult. In regard to Asia, and more particularlyn regard to India and Persia, the application ofprinciples is clear in theory though difficult in politicalpractice. The obstacles to self-government which

exist in Africa do not exist in the same measure inAsia. What stands in the way of freedom of Asiaticpopulations is not their lack of intelligence, but onlyheir lack of military prowess, which makes them aneasy prey to our lust for dominion. This lust wouldprobably be in temporary abeyance on the morrow ofa Socialist revolution, and at such a moment a newdeparture in Asiatic policy might be taken withpermanently beneficial results. I do not mean, ofcourse, that we should force upon India that formof democratic government which we have developedor our own needs. I mean rather that we shouldeave India to choose its own form of government, itsown manner of education and its own type of civilization.ndia has an ancient tradition, very differentrom that of Western Europe, a tradition highlyvalued by educated Hindoos, but not loved by ourschools and colleges. The Hindoo Nationalist feelshat his country has a type of culture containing elementsof value that are absent, or much less marked,n the West; he wishes to be free to preserve this,

and desires political freedom for such reasons ratherhan for those that would most naturally appeal toan Englishman in the same subject position. Thebelief of the European in his own Kultur tends to beanatical and ruthless, and for this reason, as much asor any other, the independence of extra-Europeancivilization is of real importance to the world, for it isnot by a dead uniformity that the world as a whole ismost enriched.

have set forth strongly all the major difficulties

n the way of the preservation of the world's peace,



not because I believe these difficulties to be insuperable,but, on the contrary, because I believe that theycan be overcome if they are recognized. A correctdiagnosis is necessarily the first step toward a cure.The existing evils in international relations spring,at bottom, from psychological causes, from motivesorming part of human nature as it is at present.Among these the chief are competitiveness, love ofpower, and envy, using envy in that broad sense in

which it includes the instinctive dislike of any gaino others not accompanied by an at least equal gaino ourselves. The evils arising from these threecauses can be removed by a better education and abetter economic and political system.

Competitiveness is by no means wholly an evil.When it takes the form of emulation in the serviceof the public, or in discovery or the production ofworks of art, it may become a very useful stimulus,urging men to profitable effort beyond what they

would otherwise make. It is only harmful when itaims at the acquisition of goods which are limitedn amount, so that what one man possesses he holds athe expense of another. When competitiveness takeshis form it is necessarily attended by fear, and outof fear cruelty is almost inevitably developed. But asocial system providing for a more just distributionof material goods might close to the instinct ofcompetitiveness those channels in which it is harmful,and cause it to flow instead in channels in which itwould become a benefit to mankind. This is one greateason why the communal ownership of land and capital

would be likely to have a beneficial effect uponhuman nature, for human nature, as it exists in adultmen and women, is by no means a fixed datum, buta product of circumstances, education and opportunityoperating upon a highly malleable nativedisposition.

What is true of competitiveness is equally trueof love of power. Power, in the form in which it is

now usually sought, is power of command, power ofmposing one's will upon others by force, open orconcealed. This form of power consists, in essence, inhwarting others, for it is only displayed when othersare compelled to do what they do not wish to do.Such power, we hope, the social system which is tosupersede capitalist will reduce to a minimum by themethods which we outlined in the preceding chapter.These methods can be applied in international noess than in national affairs. In international affairshe same formula of federalism will apply: self-

determination for every group in regard to matters which



concern it much more vitally than they concernothers, and government by a neutral authority embracingival groups in all matters in which conflictingnterests of groups come into play; lout alwayswith the fixed principle that the functions of governmentare to be reduced to the bare minimum compatiblewith justice and the prevention of privateviolence. In such a world the present harmful outletsor the love of power would be closed. But the

power which consists in persuasion, in teaching, ineading men to a new wisdom or the realization ofnew possibilities of happiness--this kind of power,which may be wholly beneficial, would remain untouched,and many vigorous men, who in the actualworld devote their energies to domination, would insuch a world find their energies directed to the creationof new goods rather than the perpetuation ofancient evils.

Envy, the third of the psychological causes to

which we attributed what is bad in the actual world,depends in most natures upon that kind of fundamentaldiscontent which springs from a lack ofree development, from thwarted instinct, androm the impossibility of realizing an imaginedhappiness. Envy cannot be cured by preaching;preaching, at the best, will only alter its manifestationsand lead it to adopt more subtle forms of concealment.Except in those rare natures in whichgenerosity dominates in spite of circumstances, theonly cure for envy is freedom and the joy of life.From populations largely deprived of the simplenstinctive pleasures of leisure and love, sunshine andgreen fields, generosity of outlook and kindlinessof dispositions are hardly to be expected. In suchpopulations these qualities are not likely to be found,even among the fortunate few, for these few areaware, however dimly, that they are profiting by annjustice, and that they can only continue to enjoyheir good fortune by deliberately ignoring thosewith whom it is not shared. If generosity and kindliness

are to be common, there must be more carehan there is at present for the elementary wants ofhuman nature, and more realization that the diffusionof happiness among all who are not the victims ofsome peculiar misfortune is both possible and imperative.A world full of happiness would not wish toplunge into war, and would not be filled with thatgrudging hostility which our cramped and narrowexistence forces upon average human nature. A worldull of happiness is not beyond human power tocreate; the obstacles imposed by inanimate nature

are not insuperable. The real obstacles lie in the



heart of man, and the cure for these is a firm hope,nformed and fortified by thought.

CHAPTER VII

SCIENCE AND ART UNDER SOCIALISM

SOCIALISM has been advocated by most of itschampions chiefly as a means of increasing the welfareof the wage earning classes, and more particularlyheir material welfare. It has seemed accordingly,o some men whose aims are not material, asf it has nothing to offer toward the generaladvancement of civilization in the way of art andhought. Some of its advocates, moreover--andamong these Marx must be included--have written,no doubt not deliberately, as if with the Socialist

evolution the millennium would have arrived, andhere would be no need of further progress for thehuman race. I do not know whether our age is moreestless than that which preceded it, or whether it

has merely become more impregnated with the ideaof evolution, but, for whatever reason, we havegrown incapable of believing in a state of staticperfection, and we demand, of any social system,which is to have our approval, that it shall containwithin itself a stimulus and opportunity for progressoward something still better. The doubts thusaised by Socialist writers make it necessary tonquire whether Socialism would in fact be hostile toart and science, and whether it would be likely toproduce a stereotyped society in which progresswould become difficult and slow.

t is not enough that men and women should bemade comfortable in a material sense. Many membersof the well-to-do classes at present, in spite ofopportunity, contribute nothing of value to the life

of the world, and do not even succeed in securing forhemselves any personal happiness worthy to be socalled. The multiplication of such individuals wouldbe an achievement of the very minutest value; andf Socialism were merely to bestow upon all thekind of life and outlook which is now enjoyed byhe more apathetic among the well-to-do, it wouldoffer little that could inspire enthusiasm in anygenerous spirit.

`The true role of collective existence,'' says M.

Naquet,[57]'' . . . is to learn, to discover, to know.



Eating, drinking, sleeping, living, in a word, is amere accessory. In this respect, we are notdistinguished from the brute. Knowledge is the goal.f I were condemned to choose between a humanitymaterially happy, glutted after the manner of alock of sheep in a field, and a humanity existing inmisery, but from which emanated, here and there,some eternal truth, it is on the latter that my choicewould fall.''

57] ``L'Anarchie et le Collectivisme,'' p. 114.

This statement puts the alternative in a veryextreme form in which it is somewhat unreal. It maybe said in reply that for those who have had theeisure and the opportunity to enjoy `èternalruths'' it is easy to exalt their importance at theexpense of sufferings which fall on others. This is

rue; but, if it is taken as disposing of the question,t leaves out of account the importance of thoughtor progress. Viewing the life of mankind as a whole,n the future as well as in the present, there can beno question that a society in which some men pursueknowledge while others endure great poverty offersmore hope of ultimate good than a society in whichall are sunk in slothful comfort. It is true thatpoverty is a great evil, but it is not true that materialprosperity is in itself a great good. If it is to haveany real value to society, it must be made a means tohe advancement of those higher goods that belongo the life of the mind. But the life of the mind doesnot consist of thought and knowledge alone, norcan it be completely healthy unless it has somenstinctive contact, however deeply buried, with thegeneral life of the community. Divorced from thesocial instinct, thought, like art, tends to becomeinicky and precious. It is the position of such artand thought as is imbued with the instinctive senseof service to mankind that we wish to consider, for

t is this alone that makes up the life of the mindn the sense in which it is a vital part of the life ofhe community. Will the life of the mind in thissense be helped or hindered by Socialism? And willhere still be a sufficient spur to progress to preventa condition of Byzantine immobility?

n considering this question we are, in a certainsense, passing outside the atmosphere of democracy.The general good of the community is realized onlyn individuals, but it is realized much more fully in

some individuals than in others. Some men have a



comprehensive and penetrating intellect, enablinghem to appreciate and remember what has beenhought and known by their predecessors, and todiscover new regions in which they enjoy all thehigh delights of the mental explorer. Others havehe power of creating beauty, giving bodily form tompalpable visions out of which joy comes to many.Such men are more fortunate than the mass, and alsomore important for the collective life. A larger share

of the general sum of good is concentrated in themhan in the ordinary man and woman; but also theircontribution to the general good is greater. Theystand out among men and cannot be wholly fittednto the framework of democratic equality. A socialsystem which would render them unproductive wouldstand condemned, whatever other merits it mighthave.

The first thing to realize--though it is difficult ina commercial age--is that what is best in creative

mental activity cannot be produced by any systemof monetary rewards. Opportunity and the stimulusof an invigorating spiritual atmosphere are important,but, if they are presented, no financial inducementswill be required, while if they are absent,material compensations will be of no avail. Recognition,even if it takes the form of money, can bring acertain pleasure in old age to the man of sciencewho has battled all his life against academicprejudice, or to the artist who has endured years ofidicule for not painting in the manner of his

predecessors; but it is not by the remote hope of suchpleasures that their work has been inspired. Allhe most important work springs from an uncalculatingmpulse, and is best promoted, not by rewardsafter the event, but by circumstances which keep thempulse alive and afford scope for the activitieswhich it inspires. In the creation of such circumstancesour present system is much at fault. WillSocialism be better?

do not think this question can be answeredwithout specifying the kind of Socialism that is intended:some forms of Socialism would, I believe, beeven more destructive in this respect than the presentcapitalist regime, while others would be immeasurablybetter. Three things which a social system canprovide or withhold are helpful to mental creation:irst, technical training; second, liberty to followhe creative impulse; third, at least the possibility ofultimate appreciation by some public, whether largeor small. We may leave out of our discussion both

ndividual genius and those intangible conditions



which make some ages great and others sterile in artand science--not because these are unimportant, butbecause they are too little understood to be takenaccount of in economic or political organization.The three conditions we have mentioned seem to covermost of what can be SEEN to be useful or harmfulrom our present point of view, and it is thereforeo them that we shall confine ourselves.

. Technical Training.--Technical training atpresent, whether in science or art, requires one orother of two conditions. Either a boy must be theson of well-to-do parents who can afford to keephim while he acquires his education, or he must showso much ability at an early age as to enable him tosubsist on scholarships until he is ready to earn hisving. The former condition is, of course, a mere

matter of luck, and could not be preserved in itspresent form under any kind of Socialism or Communism.This loss is emphasized by defenders of the

present system, and no doubt it would be, to sameextent, a real loss. But the well-to-do are a smallproportion of the population, and presumably on theaverage no more talented by nature than their lessortunate contemporaries. If the advantages whichare enjoyed now by those few among them who arecapable of good work in science or art could beextended, even in a slightly attenuated form, to allwho are similarly gifted, the result would almostnfallibly be a gain, and much ability which is nowwasted would be rendered fruitful. But how is thiso be effected?

The system of scholarships obtained by competition,hough better than nothing, is objectionablerom many points of view. It introduces the competitivespirit into the work of the very young; itmakes them regard knowledge from the standpointof what is useful in examinations rather than in theght of its intrinsic interest or importance; it places

a premium upon that sort of ability which is displayed

precociously in glib answers to set questionsather than upon the kind that broods on difficultiesand remains for a time rather dumb. What is perhapsworse than any of these defects is the tendencyo cause overwork in youth, leading to lack of vigorand interest when manhood has been reached. Itcan hardly be doubted that by this cause, at present,many fine minds have their edge blunted and theirkeenness destroyed.

State Socialism might easily universalize the

system of scholarships obtained by competitive examination,



and if it did so it is to he feared that itwould be very harmful. State Socialists at presentend to be enamored of the systems which is exactlyof the kind that every bureaucrat loves: orderly,neat, giving a stimulus to industrious habits, andnvolving no waste of a sort that could be tabulatedn statistics or accounts of public expenditure.Such men will argue that free higher education isexpensive to the community, and only useful in the

case of those who have exceptional abilities; itought, therefore, they will say, not to be given to all,but only to those who will become more useful membersof society through receiving it. Such argumentsmake a great appeal to what are called ``practical''men, and the answers to them are of a sort which its difficult to render widely convincing. Revoltagainst the evils of competition is, however, partof the very essence of the Socialist's protest againsthe existing order, and on this ground, if on no other,hose who favor Socialism may be summoned to look

or some better solution.

Much the simplest solution, and the only reallyeffective one, is to make every kind of education freeup to the age of twenty-one for all boys and girlswho desire it. The majority will be tired of educationbefore that age, and will prefer to begin otherwork sooner; this will lead to a natural selection ofhose with strong interests in some pursuit requiringa long training. Among those selected in this wayby their own inclinations, probably almost all thohave marked abilities of the kind in question will bencluded. It is true that there will also be manywho have very little ability; the desire to become apainter, for example, is by no means confined tohose who can paint. But this degree of waste couldwell be borne by the community; it would be immeasurablyess than that now entailed by the supportof the idle rich. Any system which aims atavoiding this kind of waste must entail the far moreserious waste of rejecting or spoiling some of the

best ability in each generation. The system of freeeducation up to any grade for all who desire it ishe only system which is consistent with the principlesof liberty, and the only one which gives a reasonablehope of affording full scope for talent. This systems equally compatible with all forms of Socialismand Anarchism. Theoretically, it is compatible withcapitalism, but practically it is so opposite in spirithat it would hardly be feasible without a completeeconomic reconstruction. The fact that Socialismwould facilitate it must be reckoned a very powerful

argument in favor of change, for the waste of talent



at present in the poorer classes of society must bestupendous.

2. Liberty to follow the creative impulse.--When a man's training has been completed, if he ispossessed of really great abilities, he will do his bestwork if he is completely free to follow his bent,creating what seems good to him, regardless of theudgment of `èxperts.'' At present this is only

possible for two classes of people: those who haveprivate means, and those who can earn a living byan occupation that does not absorb their wholeenergies. Under Socialism, there will be no one withprivate means, and if there is to be no loss asegards art and science, the opportunity which now

comes by accident to a few will have to be provideddeliberately for a much larger number. The menwho have used private means as an opportunity forcreative work have been few but important: onemight mention Milton, Shelley, Keats and Darwin as

examples. Probably none of these would have producedas good work if they had had to earn theirvelihood. If Darwin had been a university teacher,

he would of course have been dismissed from his postby the influence of the clerics on account of hisscandalous theories.

Nevertheless, the bulk of the creative work of theworld is done at present by men who subsist bysome other occupation. Science, and research generally,are usually done in their spare time by menwho live by teaching. There is no great objection tohis in the case of science, provided the number ofhours devoted to teaching is not excessive. It ispartly because science and teaching are so easilycombined that science is vigorous in the present age.n music, a composer who is also a performer enjoyssimilar advantages, but one who is not a performermust starve, unless he is rich or willing to pander tohe public taste. In the fine arts, as a rule, it is noteasy in the modern world either to make a living by

eally good work or to find a subsidiary professionwhich leaves enough leisure for creation. This ispresumably one reason, though by no means the onlyone, why art is less flourishing than science.

The bureaucratic State Socialist will have asimple solution for these difficulties. He will appointa body consisting of the most eminent celebrities inan art or a science, whose business it shall be to judgehe work of young men, and to issue licenses to thosewhose productions find favor in their eyes. A licensed

artist shall be considered to have performed his duty



o the community by producing works of art. But ofcourse he will have to prove his industry by neverailing to produce in reasonable quantities, and hiscontinued ability by never failing to please hiseminent judges--until, in the fulness of time, hebecomes a judge himself. In this way, the authoritieswill insure that the artist shall be competent,egular, and obedient to the best traditions of his

art. Those who fail to fulfil these conditions will be

compelled by the withdrawal of their license to seeksome less dubious mode of earning their living. Suchwill be the ideal of the State Socialist.

n such a world all that makes life tolerable tohe lover of beauty would perish. Art springs froma wild and anarchic side of human nature; betweenhe artist and the bureaucrat there must always bea profound mutual antagonism, an age-long battlen which the artist, always outwardly worsted, winsn the end through the gratitude of mankind for the

oy that he puts into their lives. If the wild sideof human nature is to be permanently subjected tohe orderly rules of the benevolent, uncomprehendingbureaucrat, the joy of life will perish out of theearth, and the very impulse to live will graduallywither and die. Better a thousandfold the presentworld with all its horrors than such a dead mummyof a world. Better Anarchism, with all its risks,han a State Socialism that subjects to rule whatmust be spontaneous and free if it is to have anyvalue. It is this nightmare that makes artists, andovers of beauty generally, so often suspicious ofSocialism. But there is nothing in the essence ofSocialism to make art impossible: only certain formsof Socialism would entail this danger. WilliamMorris was a Socialist, and was a Socialist veryargely because he was an artist. And in this hewas not irrational.

t is impossible for art, or any of the highercreative activities, to flourish under any system which

equires that the artist shall prove his competence tosome body of authorities before he is allowed to followhis impulse. Any really great artist is almostsure to be thought incompetent by those among hisseniors who would be generally regarded as bestqualified to form an opinion. And the mere fact ofhaving to produce work which will please older mens hostile to a free spirit and to bold innovation.Apart from this difficulty, selection by older menwould lead to jealousy and intrigue and back-biting,producing a poisonous atmosphere of underground

competition. The only effect of such a plan would be



o eliminate the few who now slip through owing tosome fortunate accident. It is not by any system,but by freedom alone, that art can flourish.

There are two ways by which the artist couldsecure freedom under Socialism of the right kind.He might undertake regular work outside his art,doing only a few hours' work a day and receivingproportionately less pay than those who do a full

day's work. He ought, in that case, to be at libertyo sell his pictures if he could find purchasers. Sucha system would have many advantages. It wouldeave absolutely every man free to become an artist,provided he were willing to suffer a certain economicoss. This would not deter those in whom the impulsewas strong and genuine, but would tend toexclude the dilettante. Many young artists atpresent endure voluntarily much greater povertyhan need be entailed by only doing half the usualday's work in a well-organized Socialist community;

and some degree of hardship is not objectionable,as a test of the strength of the creative impulse, andas an offset to the peculiar joys of the creative life.

The other possibility[58] would be that the necessariesof life should be free, as Anarchists desire, toall equally, regardless of whether they work or not.Under this plan, every man could live without work:here would be what might be called a ̀ `vagabond'swage,'' sufficient for existence but not for luxury.The artist who preferred to have his whole time forart and enjoyment might live on the ``vagabond'swage''--traveling on foot when the humor seized himo see foreign countries, enjoying the air and thesun, as free as the birds, and perhaps scarcely lesshappy. Such men would bring color and diversitynto the life of the community; their outlook would bedifferent from that of steady, stay-at-home workers,and would keep alive a much-needed element of light-heartedness which our sober, serious civilization tendso kill. If they became very numerous, they might

be too great an economic burden on the workers;but I doubt if there are many with enough capacityor simple enjoyments to choose poverty and free-dom in preference to the comparatively light andpleasant work which will be usual in those days.

58] Which we discussed in Chapter IV.

By either of these methods, freedom can be preserved

or the artist in a socialistic commonwealth--



ar more complete freedom, and far more widespread,han any that now exists except for the possessors ofcapital.

But there still remain some not altogether easyproblems. Take, for example, the publishing of books.There will not, under Socialism, be private publishersas at present: under State Socialism, presumably theState will be the sole publisher, while under Syndicalism

or Guild Socialism the Federation du Livrewill have the whole of the trade in its hands. Underhese circumstances, who is to decide what MSS. areo be printed? It is clear that opportunities existor an Index more rigorous than that of the Inquisition.f the State were the sole publisher, it woulddoubtless refuse books opposed to State Socialism.f the Federation du Livre were the ultimate arbiter,what publicity could be obtained for works criticisingt? And apart from such political difficultieswe should have, as regards literature, that

very censorship by eminent officials which we agreedo regard as disastrous when we were considering theine arts in general. The difficulty is serious, and away of meeting it must be found if literature is toemain free.

Kropotkin, who believes that manual and intellectualwork should be combined, holds that authorshemselves should be compositors, bookbinders, etc.He even seems to suggest that the whole of the manualwork involved in producing books should be done byauthors. It may be doubted whether there areenough authors in the world for this to be possible,and in any case I cannot but think that it wouldbe a waste of time for them to leave the work theyunderstand in order to do badly work which otherscould do far better and more quickly. That, however,does not touch our present point, which is thequestion how the MSS. to be printed will be selected.n Kropotkin's plan there will presumably be anAuthor's Guild, with a Committee of Management,

f Anarchism allows such things. This Committeeof Management will decide which of the books submittedo it are worthy to be printed. Among thesewill be included those by the Committee and theirriends, but not those by their enemies. Authorsof rejected MSS. will hardly have the patience tospend their time setting up the works of successfulivals, and there will have to be an elaborate system

of log-rolling if any books are to be printed at all.t hardly looks as if this plan would conduce to harmonyamong literary men, or would lead to the publication

of any book of an unconventional tendency.



Kropotkin's own books, for example, would hardlyhave found favor.

The only way of meeting these difficulties, whetherunder State Socialism or Guild Socialism or Anarchism,seems to be by making it possible for an authoro pay for the publication of his book if it is notsuch as the State or the Guild is willing to print atts own expense. I am aware that this method is contrary

o the spirit of Socialism, but I do not see whatother way there is of securing freedom. The paymentmight be made by undertaking to engage foran assigned period in some work of recognized utilityand to hand over such proportion of the earnings asmight be necessary. The work undertaken mightof course be, as Kropotkin suggests, the manual partof the production of books, but I see no special reasonwhy it should be. It would have to be an absoluteule that no book should be refused, no matter whathe nature of its contents might be, if payment for

publication were offered at the standard rate. Anauthor who had admirers would be able to secure theirhelp in payment. An unknown author might, it isrue, have to suffer a considerable loss of comfortn order to make his payment, but that would givean automatic means of eliminating those whose writingwas not the result of any very profound impulseand would be by no means wholly an evil.

Probably some similar method would be desirableas regards the publishing and performing of newmusic.

What we have been suggesting will, no doubt, beobjected to by orthodox Socialists, since they will findsomething repugnant to their principles in the wholedea of a private person paying to have certainwork done. But it is a mistake to be the slave of asystem, and every system, if it is applied rigidly, willentail evils which could only be avoided by someconcession to the exigencies of special cases. On the

whole, a wise form of Socialism might afford infinitelybetter opportunities for the artist and the man ofscience than are possible in a capitalist community,but only if the form of Socialism adopted is onewhich is fitted for this end by means of provisionssuch as we have been suggesting.

3. Possibility of Appreciation.--This conditions one which is not necessary to all who do creativework, but in the sense in which I mean it the greatmajority find it very nearly indispensable. I do not

mean widespread public recognition, nor that ignorant,



half-sincere respect which is commonly accordedo artists who have achieved success. Neither ofhese serves much purpose. What I mean is ratherunderstanding, and a spontaneous feeling that thingsof beauty are important. In a thoroughly commercializedsociety, an artist is respected if he makesmoney, and because he makes money, but there is nogenuine respect for the works of art by which hismoney has been made. A millionaire whose fortune

has been made in button-hooks or chewing-gum isegarded with awe, but none of this feeling is

bestowed on the articles from which his wealth isderived. In a society which measures all things bymoney the same tends to be true of the artist. If hehas become rich he is respected, though of courseess than the millionaire, but his pictures or booksor music are regarded as the chewing-gum or the button-hooks are regarded, merely as a means to money.n such an atmosphere it is very difficult for the artisto preserve his creative impulse pure: either he is

contaminated by his surroundings, or he becomesembittered through lack of appreciation for the objectof his endeavor.

t is not appreciation of the artist that is necessaryso much as appreciation of the art. It is difficultor an artist to live in an environment in whicheverything is judged by its utility, rather than by itsntrinsic quality. The whole side of life of whichart is the flower requires something which may becalled disinterestedness, a capacity for directenjoyment without thought of tomorrow's problems anddifficulties. When people are amused by a joke theydo not need to be persuaded that it will serve somemportant purpose. The same kind of direct pleasures involved in any genuine appreciation of art.The struggle for life, the serious work of a trade orprofession, is apt to make people too solemn forokes and too pre-occupied for art. The easing ofhe struggle, the diminution in the hours of work, andhe lightening of the burden of existence, which would

esult from a better economic system, could hardlyail to increase the joy of life and the vital energy,available for sheer delight in the world. And if thiswere achieved there would inevitably be more spontaneouspleasure in beautiful things, and more enjoymentof the work of artists. But none of these goodesults are to be expected from the mere removal

of poverty: they all require also a diffused sense ofreedom, and the absence of that feeling of oppressionby a vast machine which now weighs down the individualspirit. I do not think State Socialism can give

his sense of freedom, but some other forms of Socialism,



which have absorbed what is true in Anarchisteaching, can give it to a degree of which capitalism iswholly incapable.

A general sense of progress and achievement isan immense stimulus to all forms of creative work.For this reason, a great deal will depend, not onlyn material ways, upon the question whether methodsof production in industry and agriculture become

stereotyped or continue to change rapidly as theyhave done during the last hundred years. Improvedmethods of production will be much more obviouslyhan now to the interest of the community at large,when what every man receives is his due share of theotal produce of labor. But there will probably notbe any individuals with the same direct and intensenterest in technical improvements as now belongso the capitalist in manufacture. If the naturalconservatism of the workers is not to prove strongerhan their interest in increasing production, it will

be necessary that, when better methods are introducedby the workers in any industry, part at leastof the benefit should be allowed for a time to beetained by them. If this is done, it may be presumedhat each Guild will be continually seeking for newprocesses or inventions, and will value those technicalparts of scientific research which are useful for thispurpose. With every improvement, the question willarise whether it is to be used to give more leisure or toncrease the dividend of commodities. Where theres so much more leisure than there is now, there willbe many more people with a knowledge of science oran understanding of art. The artist or scientificnvestigator will be far less cut off than he is atpresent from the average citizen, and this will almostnevitably be a stimulus to his creative energy.

think we may fairly conclude that, from thepoint of view of all three requisites for art and science,namely, training, freedom and appreciation, StateSocialism would largely fail to remove existing

evils and would introduce new evils of its own; butGuild Socialism, or even Syndicalism, if it adopteda liberal policy toward those who preferred to workess than the usual number of hours at recognizedoccupations, might be immeasurably preferable toanything that is possible under the rule of capitalism.There are dangers, but they will all vanish if themportance of liberty is adequately acknowledged.n this as in nearly everything else, the road to allhat is best is the road of freedom.



CHAPTER VIII

THE WORLD AS IT COULD BE MADE

N the daily lives of most men and women, fearplays a greater part than hope: they are moreilled with the thought of the possessions that others

may take from them, than of the joy that they mightcreate in their own lives and in the lives with whichhey come in contact.

t is not so that life should be lived.

Those whose lives are fruitful to themselves, toheir friends, or to the world are inspired by hopeand sustained by joy: they see in imagination thehings that might be and the way in which they areo be brought into existence. In their private relations

hey are not pre-occupied with anxiety lesthey should lose such affection and respect as theyeceive: they are engaged in giving affection

and respect freely, and the reward comes oftself without their seeking. In their work theyare not haunted by jealousy of competitors, butconcerned with the actual matter that has to be done.n politics, they do not spend time and passion defendingunjust privileges of their class or nation, buthey aim at making the world as a whole happier, lesscruel, less full of conflict between rival greeds, andmore full of human beings whose growth has notbeen dwarfed and stunted by oppression.

A life lived in this spirit--the spirit that aims atcreating rather than possessing--has a certainundamental happiness, of which it cannot be whollyobbed by adverse circumstances. This is the way

of life recommended in the Gospels, and by all thegreat teachers of the world. Those who have foundt are freed from the tyranny of fear, since what they

value most in their lives is not at the mercy of outsidepower. If all men could summon up the courageand the vision to live in this way in spite of obstaclesand discouragement, there would be no need for theegeneration of the world to begin by political and

economic reform: all that is needed in the way of reformwould come automatically, without resistance,owing to the moral regeneration of individuals. Buthe teaching of Christ has been nominally acceptedby the world for many centuries, and yet those whoollow it are still persecuted as they were before the

ime of Constantine. Experience has proved that



ew are able to see through the apparent evils of anoutcast's life to the inner joy that comes of faithand creative hope. If the domination of fear is to beovercome, it is not enough, as regards the mass ofmen, to preach courage and indifference to misfortune:t is necessary to remove the causes of fear,o make a good life no longer an unsuccessful one ina worldly sense, and to diminish the harm that canbe inflicted upon those who are not wary in self-

defense.

When we consider the evils in the lives we knowof, we find that they may be roughly divided intohree classes. There are, first, those due to physicalnature: among these are death, pain and thedifficulty of making the soil yield a subsistence.These we will call ``physical evils.'' Second, we mayput those that spring from defects in the characteror aptitudes of the sufferer: among these are ignorance,ack of will, and violent passions. These we

will call `èvils of character.'' Third come thosehat depend upon the power of one individual orgroup over another: these comprise not only obviousyranny, but all interference with free development,whether by force or by excessive mental influencesuch as may occur in education. These we will callèvils of power.'' A social system may be judged

by its bearing upon these three kinds of evils.

The distinction between the three kinds cannotbe sharply drawn. Purely physical evil is a limit,which we can never be sure of having reached: wecannot abolish death, but we can often postpone it byscience, and it may ultimately become possible tosecure that the great majority shall live till old age;we cannot wholly prevent pain, but we can diminisht indefinitely by securing a healthy life for all; wecannot make the earth yield its fruits in any abundancewithout labor, but we can diminish the amountof the labor and improve its conditions until it ceaseso be an evil. Evils of character are often the result

of physical evil in the shape of illness, and still moreoften the result of evils of power, since tyrannydegrades both those who exercise it and (as a rule)hose who suffer it. Evils of power are intensifiedby evils of character in those who have power, and byear of the physical evil which is apt to be the lot ofhose who have no power. For all these reasons, thehree sorts of evil are intertwined. Nevertheless,speaking broadly, we may distinguish among ourmisfortunes those which have their proximate cause inhe material world, those which are mainly due to

defects in ourselves, and those which spring from our



being subject to the control of others.

The main methods of combating these evils are: forphysical evils, science; for evils of character, educationin the widest sense) and a free outlet for allmpulses that do not involve domination; for evilsof power, the reform of the political and economicorganization of society in such a way as to reduceo the lowest possible point the interference of one

man with the life of another. We will begin with thehird of these kinds of evil, because it is evils of powerspecially that Socialism and Anarchism have soughto remedy. Their protest against Inequalities ofwealth has rested mainly upon their sense of the evilsarising from the power conferred by wealth. Thispoint has been well stated by Mr. G. D. H. Cole:--

What, I want to ask, is the fundamental evil in ourmodern Society which we should set out to abolish?

There are two possible answers to that question, andam sure that very many well-meaning people would

make the wrong one. They would answer POVERTY,when they ought to answer SLAVERY. Face to faceevery day with the shameful contrasts of riches anddestitution, high dividends and low wages, and painfullyconscious of the futility of trying to adjust the balanceby means of charity, private or public, they would answerunhesitatingly that they stand for the ABOLITIONOF POVERTY.

Well and good! On that issue every Socialist is withhem. But their answer to my question is none the lesswrong.

Poverty is the symptom: slavery the disease. Theextremes of riches and destitution follow inevitably uponhe extremes of license and bondage. The many are notenslaved because they are poor, they are poor becausehey are enslaved. Yet Socialists have all too often

ixed their eyes upon the material misery of the poorwithout realizing that it rests upon the spiritual degradationof the slave.[59]

59] ``Self-Government in Industry,'' G. Bell & Sons, 1917, pp.10-111.

do not think any reasonable person can doubthat the evils of power in the present system are

vastly greater than is necessary, nor that they



might be immeasurably diminished by a suitable formof Socialism. A few fortunate people, it is true, arenow enabled to live freely on rent or interest, andhey could hardly have more liberty under anothersystem. But the great bulk, not only of the verypoor, but, of all sections of wage-earners and evenof the professional classes, are the slaves of the needor getting money. Almost all are compelled towork so hard that they have little leisure for enjoyment

or for pursuits outside their regular occupation.Those who are able to retire in later middle age arebored, because they have not learned how to fillheir time when they are at liberty, and such interestsas they once had apart from work have dried up.Yet these are the exceptionally fortunate: the majorityhave to work hard till old age, with the fear ofdestitution always before them, the richer ones dreadinghat they will be unable to give their childrenhe education or the medical care that they considerdesirable, the poorer ones often not far removed from

starvation. And almost all who work have no voicen the direction of their work; throughout the hoursof labor they are mere machines carrying out the willof a master. Work is usually done under disagreeableconditions, involving pain and physical hardship.The only motive to work is wages: the very idea thatwork might be a joy, like the work of the artist, isusually scouted as utterly Utopian.

But by far the greater part of these evils arewholly unnecessary. If the civilized portion of mankindcould be induced to desire their own happinessmore than another's pain, if they could be induced towork constructively for improvements which theywould share with all the world rather than destructivelyo prevent other classes or nations from stealinga march on them, the whole system by which theworld's work is done might be reformed root andbranch within a generation.

From the point of view of liberty, what system

would be the best? In what direction should we wishhe forces of progress to move?

From this point of view, neglecting for themoment all other considerations, I have no doubt thathe best system would be one not far removed fromhat advocated by Kropotkin, but rendered morepracticable by the adoption of the main principles ofGuild Socialism. Since every point can be disputed,will set down without argument the kind of organization

of work that would seem best.



Education should be compulsory up to the ageof 16, or perhaps longer; after that, it should be continuedor not at the option of the pupil, but remainree (for those who desire it) up to at least the ageof 21. When education is finished no one should beCOMPELLED to work, and those who choose not to workshould receive a bare livelihood, and be left completelyree; but probably it would be desirable that thereshould be a strong public opinion in favor of work,

so that only comparatively few should choose idleness.One great advantage of making idleness economicallypossible is that it would afford a powerfulmotive for making work not disagreeable; and nocommunity where most work is disagreeable can besaid to have found a solution of economic problems.think it is reasonable to assume that few would

choose idleness, in view of the fact that even now ateast nine out of ten of those who have (say) 100 poundsa year from investments prefer to increase their incomeby paid work.

Coming now to that great majority who will notchoose idleness, I think we may assume that, with thehelp of science, and by the elimination of the vastamount of unproductive work involved in internal andnternational competition, the whole communitycould be kept in comfort by means of four hours'work a day. It is already being urged by experiencedemployers that their employes can actually produceas much in a six-hour day as they can when theywork eight hours. In a world where there is a muchhigher level of technical instruction than there is nowhe same tendency will be accentuated. People willbe taught not only, as at present, one trade, or onesmall portion of a trade, but several trades, so thathey can vary their occupation according to theseasons and the fluctuations of demand. Every industrywill be self-governing as regards all its internalaffairs, and even separate factories will decide forhemselves all questions that only concern those whowork in them. There will not be capitalist management,

as at present, but management by elected representatives,as in politics. Relations between differentgroups of producers will be settled by the GuildCongress, matters concerning the community as thenhabitants of a certain area will continue to bedecided by Parliament, while all disputes betweenParliament and the Guild Congress will be decidedby a body composed of representatives of both inequal numbers.

Payment will not be made, as at present, only for

work actually required and performed, but for willingness



o work. This system is already adopted inmuch of the better paid work: a man occupies a certainposition, and retains it even at times when therehappens to be very little to do. The dread of unemploymentand loss of livelihood will no longer hauntmen like a nightmare. Whether all who are willingo work will be paid equally, or whether exceptionalskill will still command exceptional pay, is a matterwhich may be left to each guild to decide for itself.

An opera-singer who received no more pay than ascene-shifter might choose to be a scene-shifter untilhe system was changed: if so, higher pay wouldprobably be found necessary. But if it were freelyvoted by the Guild, it could hardly constitute agrievance.

Whatever might be done toward making workagreeable, it is to be presumed that some trades wouldalways remain unpleasant. Men could be attractednto these by higher pay or shorter hours, instead of

being driven into them by destitution. The communitywould then have a strong economic motiveor finding ways of diminishing the disagreeablenessof these exceptional trades.

There would still have to be money, or somethinganalogous to it, in any community such as we aremagining. The Anarchist plan of a free distributionof the total produce of work in equal sharesdoes not get rid of the need for some standard ofexchange value, since one man will choose to take hisshare in one form and another in another. Whenhe day comes for distributing luxuries, old ladieswill not want their quota of cigars, nor young menheir just proportion of lap-dog; this will make itnecessary to know how many cigars are the equivalentof one lap-dog. Much the simplest way is topay an income, as at present, and allow relativevalues to be adjusted according to demand. But ifactual coin were paid, a man might hoard it and inime become a capitalist. To prevent this, it would

be best to pay notes available only during a certainperiod, say one year from the date of issue. Thiswould enable a man to save up for his annual holiday,but not to save indefinitely.

There is a very great deal to be said for theAnarchist plan of allowing necessaries, and allcommodities that can easily be produced in quantitiesadequate to any possible demand, to be given awayreely to all who ask for them, in any amounts theymay require. The question whether this plan should

be adopted is, to my mind, a purely technical one:



would it be, in fact, possible to adopt it without muchwaste and consequent diversion of labor to the productionof necessaries when it might be more usefullyemployed otherwise? I have not the means of answeringhis question, but I think it exceedingly probablehat, sooner or later, with the continuedmprovement in the methods of production, thisAnarchist plan will become feasible; and when it does,t certainly ought to be adopted.

Women in domestic work, whether married or unmarried,will receive pay as they would if they weren industry. This will secure the complete economicndependence of wives, which is difficult to achieven any other way, since mothers of young childrenought not to be expected to work outside the home.

The expense of children will not fall, as at present,on the parents. They will receive, like adults,heir share of necessaries, and their education will

be free.[60] There is no longer to be the presentcompetition for scholarships among the abler children:hey will not be imbued with the competitive spiritrom infancy, or forced to use their brains to anunnatural degree with consequent listlessness and lackof health in later life. Education will be far morediversified than at present; greater care will be takeno adapt it to the needs of different types of youngpeople. There will be more attempt to encouragenitiative young pupils, and less desire to fill theirminds with a set of beliefs and mental habits regardedas desirable by the State, chiefly because they helpo preserve the status quo. For the great majorityof children it will probably be found desirable tohave much more outdoor education in the country.And for older boys and girls whose interests are notntellectual or artistic, technical education, undertakenn a liberal spirit, is far more useful in promotingmental activity than book-learning which theyegard (however falsely) as wholly useless except for

purposes of examination. The really useful educa-

ion is that which follows the direction of the child'sown instinctive interests, supplying knowledge forwhich it is seeking, not dry, detailed informationwholly out of relation to its spontaneous desires.

60] Some may fear that the result would be an undue increaseof population, but such fears I believe to be groundless. Seeabove, (Chapter IV, on ̀ `Work and Pay.'' Also, Chapter vi of`Principles of Social Reconstruction'' (George Allen and

Unwin, Ltd.).



Government and law will still exist in ourcommunity, but both will be reduced to a minimum.There will still be acts which will be forbidden--forexample, murder. But very nearly the whole of thatpart of the criminal law which deals with propertywill have become obsolete, and many of the motiveswhich now produce murders will be no longer operative.Those who nevertheless still do commit crimes

will not be blamed or regarded as wicked; they willbe regarded as unfortunate, and kept in some kindof mental hospital until it is thought that they areno longer a danger. By education and freedom andhe abolition of private capital the number of crimescan be made exceedingly small. By the method ofndividual curative treatment it will generally bepossible to secure that a man's first offense shall alsobe his last, except in the case of lunatics and theeeble-minded, for whom of course a more prolongedbut not less kindly detention may be necessary.

Government may be regarded as consisting ofwo parts: the one, the decisions of the communityor its recognized organs; the other, the enforcing ofhose decisions upon all who resist them. The firstpart is not objected to by Anarchists. The secondpart, in an ordinary civilized State, may remainentirely in the background: those who have resisteda new law while it was being debated will, as a rule,submit to it when it is passed, because resistance isgenerally useless in a settled and orderly community.But the possibility of governmental force remains,and indeed is the very reason for the submission whichmakes force unnecessary. If, as Anarchists desire,here were no use of force by government, the majoritycould still band themselves together and useorce against the minority. The only differencewould be that their army or their police force wouldbe ad hoc, instead of being permanent and professional.The result of this would be that everyonewould have to learn how to fight, for fear a well-

drilled minority should seize power and establish anold-fashioned oligarchic State. Thus the aim of theAnarchists seems hardly likely to be achieved byhe methods which they advocate.

The reign of violence in human affairs, whetherwithin a country or in its external relations, can onlybe prevented, if we have not been mistaken, by anauthority able to declare all use of force except bytself illegal, and strong enough to be obviouslycapable of making all other use of force futile, except

when it could secure the support of public opinion as



a defense of freedom or a resistance to injustice.Such an authority exists within a country: it is theState. But in international affairs it remains to becreated. The difficulties are stupendous, but they mustbe overcome if the world is to be saved from periodicalwars, each more destructive than any of its predecessors.Whether, after this war, a League of Nationswill be formed, and will be capable of performing thisask, it is as yet impossible to foretell. However that

may be, some method of preventing wars will have tobe established before our Utopia becomes possible.When once men BELIEVE that the world is safe fromwar, the whole difficulty will be solved: there will thenno longer be any serious resistance to the disbandingof national armies and navies, and the substitutionor them of a small international force for protectionagainst uncivilized races. And when that stage hasbeen reached, peace will be virtually secure.

The practice of government by majorities, which

Anarchists criticise, is in fact open to most of theobjections which they urge against it. Still moreobjectionable is the power of the executive in mattersvitally affecting the happiness of all, such aspeace and war. But neither can be dispensed withsuddenly. There are, however, two methods of diminishinghe harm done by them: (1) Government bymajorities can be made less oppressive by devolution,by placing the decision of questions primarily affectingonly a section of the community in the hands ofhat section, rather than of a Central Chamber. Inhis way, men are no longer forced to submit to decisionsmade in a hurry by people mostly ignorant ofhe matter in hand and not personally interested.Autonomy for internal affairs should be given, notonly to areas, but to all groups, such as industries orChurches, which have important common interestsnot shared by the rest of the community. (2) Thegreat powers vested in the executive of a modernState are chiefly due to the frequent need of rapiddecisions, especially as regards foreign affairs. If

he danger of war were practically eliminated, morecumbrous but less autocratic methods would be possible,and the Legislature might recover many of thepowers which the executive has usurped. By thesewo methods, the intensity of the interference withberty involved in government can be gradually

diminished. Some interference, and even some dangerof unwarranted and despotic interference, is of theessence of government, and must remain so long asgovernment remains. But until men are less proneo violence than they are now, a certain degree of

governmental force seems the lesser of two evils. We



may hope, however, that if once the danger of war isat an end, men's violent impulses will gradually growess, the more so as, in that case, it will be possibleo diminish enormously the individual power whichnow makes rulers autocratic and ready for almostany act of tyranny in order to crush opposition. Thedevelopment of a world where even governmentalorce has become unnecessary (except against lunatics)must be gradual. But as a gradual process it

s perfectly possible; and when it has been completedwe may hope to see the principles of Anarchismembodied in the management of communal affairs.

How will the economic and political system thatwe have outlined bear on the evils of character? Ibelieve the effect will be quite extraordinarilybeneficent.

The process of leading men's thought and imaginationaway from the use of force will be greatly

accelerated by the abolition of the capitalist system,provided it is not succeeded by a form of State Socialismn which officials have enormous power. At present,he capitalist has more control over the lives ofothers than any man ought to have; his friends haveauthority in the State; his economic power is thepattern for political power. In a world where all menand women enjoy economic freedom, there will not behe same habit of command, nor, consequently, thesame love of despotism; a gentler type of characterhan that now prevalent will gradually grow up. Menare formed by their circumstances, not born ready-made. The bad effect of the present economic systemon character, and the immensely better effect to beexpected from communal ownership, are among thestrongest reasons for advocating the change.

n the world as we have been imagining fit, economicear and most economic hope will be alikeemoved out of life. No one will be haunted by the

dread of poverty or driven into ruthlessness by the

hope of wealth. There will not be the distinction ofsocial classes which now plays such an immense partn life. The unsuccessful professional man will notve in terror lest his children should sink in the scale;he aspiring employe will not be looking forward tohe day when he can become a sweater in his turn.Ambitious young men will have to dream other daydreamshan that of business success and wealthwrung out of the ruin of competitors and the degradationof labor. In such a world, most of the nightmareshat lurk in the background of men's minds

will no longer exist; on the other hand, ambition and



he desire to excel will have to take nobler forms thanhose that are encouraged by a commercial society.All those activities that really confer benefits uponmankind will be open, not only to the fortunate few,but to all who have sufficient ambition and nativeaptitude. Science, labor-saving inventions, technicalprogress of all kinds, may be confidently expected tolourish far more than at present, since they will behe road to honor, and honor will have to replace

money among those of the young who desire toachieve success. Whether art will flourish in aSocialistic community depends upon the form of Social-sm adopted; if the State, or any public authority,no matter what), insists upon controlling art, and

only licensing those whom it regards as proficient, theesult will be disaster. But if there is real freedom,

allowing every man who so desires to take up anartist's career at the cost of some sacrifice of comfort,t is likely that the atmosphere of hope, andhe absence of economic compulsion, will lead to a

much smaller waste of talent than is involved in ourpresent system, and to a much less degree of crushingof impulse in the mills of the struggle for life.

When elementary needs have been satisfied, theserious happiness of most men depends upon twohings: their work, and their human relations. In theworld that we have been picturing, work will be free,not excessive, full of the interest that belongs to acollective enterprise in which there is rapid progress,with something of the delight of creation even forhe humblest unit. And in human relations the gainwill be just as great as in work. The only humanelations that have value are those that are rooted in

mutual freedom, where there is no domination and noslavery, no tie except affection, no economic orconventional necessity to preserve the external show whenhe inner life is dead. One of the most horriblehings about commercialism is the way in which itpoisons the relations of men and women. The evils ofprostitution are generally recognized, but, great as

hey are, the effect of economic conditions on marriageseems to me even worse. There is not infrequently,n marriage, a suggestion of purchase, of acquiringa woman on condition of keeping her in a certainstandard of material comfort. Often and often, amarriage hardly differs from prostitution except bybeing harder to escape from. The whole basis ofhese evils is economic. Economic causes make marriagea matter of bargain and contract, in whichaffection is quite secondary, and its absence constitutesno recognized reason for liberation. Marriage

should be a free, spontaneous meeting of mutual



nstinct, filled with happiness not unmixed with aeeling akin to awe: it should involve that degree ofespect of each for the other that makes even the

most trifling interference with liberty an uttermpossibility, and a common life enforced by one againsthe will of the other an unthinkable thing of deephorror. It is not so that marriage is conceived byawyers who make settlements, or by priests who givehe name of ``sacrament'' to an institution which pretends

o find something sanctifiable in the brutal lustsor drunken cruelties of a legal husband. It is not ina spirit of freedom that marriage is conceived bymost men and women at present: the law makes it anopportunity for indulgence of the desire to interfere,where each submits to some loss of his or her own liberty,or the pleasure of curtailing the liberty of theother. And the atmosphere of private propertymakes it more difficult than it otherwise would be forany better ideal to take root.

t is not so that human relations will be conceivedwhen the evil heritage of economic slavery has ceasedo mold our instincts. Husbands and wives, parentsand children, will be only held together by affection:where that has died, it will be recognized that nothingworth preserving is left. Because affection willbe free, men and women will not find in private life anoutlet and stimulus to the love of domineering, but allhat is creative in their love will have the freer scope.Reverence for whatever makes the soul in those whoare loved will be less rare than it is now: nowadays,many men love their wives in the way in which theyove mutton, as something to devour and destroy.But in the love that goes with reverence there is aoy of quite another order than any to be found bymastery, a joy which satisfies the spirit and not onlyhe instincts; and satisfaction of instinct and spiritat once is necessary to a happy life, or indeed to anyexistence that is to bring out the best impulses ofwhich a man or woman is capable.

n the world which we should wish to see, therewill be more joy of life than in the drab tragedy ofmodern every-day existence. After early youth, ashings are, most men are bowed down by forethought,no longer capable of light-hearted gaiety, but only ofa kind of solemn jollification by the clock at theappropriate hours. The advice to ``become as littlechildren'' would be good for many people in manyespects, but it goes with another precept, ̀ `take nohought for the morrow,'' which is hard to obey in acompetitive world. There is often in men of science,

even when they are quite old, something of the



simplicity of a child: their absorption in abstracthought has held them aloof from the world, andespect for their work has led the world to keep them

alive in spite of their innocence. Such men havesucceeded in living as all men ought to be able to live;but as things are, the economic struggle makes theirway of life impossible for the great majority.

What are we to say, lastly, of the effect of our

projected world upon physical evil? Will there beess illness than there is at present? Will the produceof a given amount of labor be greater? Or will populationpress upon the limits of subsistence, as Malthusaught in order to refute Godwin's optimism?

think the answer to all these questions turns,n the end, upon the degree of intellectual vigor to beexpected in a community which has done away withhe spur of economic competition. Will men in sucha world become lazy and apathetic? Will they cease

o think? Will those who do think find themselvesconfronted with an even more impenetrable wall ofunreflecting conservatism than that which confrontshem at present? These are important questions; fort is ultimately to science that mankind must lookor their success in combating physical evils.

f the other conditions that we have postulatedcan be realized, it seems almost certain that theremust be less illness than there is at present. Populationwill no longer be congested in slums; children willhave far more of fresh air and open country; thehours of work will be only such as are wholesome, notexcessive and exhausting as they are at present.

As for the progress of science, that depends veryargely upon the degree of intellectual liberty existingn the new society. If all science is organized andsupervised by the State, it will rapidly becomestereotyped and dead. Fundamental advances will not bemade, because, until they have been made, they will

seem too doubtful to warrant the expenditure ofpublic money upon them. Authority will be in thehands of the old, especially of men who have achievedscientific eminence; such men will be hostile to thoseamong the young who do not flatter them by agreeingwith their theories. Under a bureaucratic StateSocialism it is to be feared that science would sooncease to be progressive and acquired a medieval respector authority.

But under a freer system, which would enable all

kinds of groups to employ as many men of science as



hey chose, and would allow the ``vagabond's wage''o those who desired to pursue some study so new aso be wholly unrecognized, there is every reason tohink that science would flourish as it has never donehitherto.[61] And, if that were the case, I do not believehat any other obstacle would exist to the physicalpossibility of our system.

61] See the discussion of this question in the preceding chapter.

The question of the number of hours of worknecessary to produce general material comfort ispartly technical, partly one of organization. Wemay assume that there would no longer be unproductiveabor spent on armaments, national defense,advertisements, costly luxuries for the very rich, orany of the other futilities incidental to our competitivesystem. If each industrial guild secured for a term of

years the advantages, or part of the advantages, ofany new invention or methods which it introduced, its pretty certain that every encouragement would begiven to technical progress. The life of a discovereror inventor is in itself agreeable: those who adopt it,as things are now, are seldom much actuated by economicmotives, but rather by the interest of the workogether with the hope of honor; and these motiveswould operate more widely than they do now, sinceewer people would be prevented from obeying themby economic necessities. And there is no doubt thatntellect would work more keenly and creatively ina world where instinct was less thwarted, where theoy of life was greater, and where consequently therewould be more vitality in men than there is at present.

There remains the population question, which,ever since the time of Malthus, has been the lastefuge of those to whom the possibility of a better

world is disagreeable. But this question is nowa very different one from what it was a hundred

years ago. The decline of the birth-rate in allcivilized countries, which is pretty certain to continue,whatever economic system is adopted, suggestshat, especially when the probable effects of the warare taken into account, the population of WesternEurope is not likely to increase very much beyondts present level, and that of America is likely only toncrease through immigration. Negroes may continueo increase in the tropics, but are not likely tobe a serious menace to the white inhabitants of temperateegions. There remains, of course, the Yellow

Peril; but by the time that begins to be serious



t is quite likely that the birth-rate will also havebegun to decline among the races of Asia If not,here are other means of dealing with this question;and in any case the whole matter is too conjecturalo be set up seriously as a bar to our hopes. I concludehat, though no certain forecast is possible,here is not any valid reason for regarding the possiblencrease of population as a serious obstacle toSocialism.

Our discussion has led us to the belief that thecommunal ownership of land and capital, which constituteshe characteristic doctrine of Socialism andAnarchist Communism, is a necessary step toward theemoval of the evils from which the world suffers at

present and the creation of such a society as anyhumane man must wish to see realized. But, thougha necessary step, Socialism alone is by no meanssufficient. There are various forms of Socialism: theorm in which the State is the employer, and all who

work receive wages from it, involves dangers ofyranny and interference with progress which wouldmake it, if possible, even worse than the presentegime. On the other hand, Anarchism, which avoidshe dangers of State Socialism, has dangers anddifficulties of its own, which make it probable that,within any reasonable period of time, it could notast long even if it were established. Nevertheless, itemains an ideal to which we should wish to approach

as nearly as possible, and which, in some distant age,we hope may be reached completely. Syndicalismshares many of the defects of Anarchism, and, like it,would prove unstable, since the need of a centralgovernment would make itself felt almost at once.

The system we have advocated is a form of GuildSocialism, leaning more, perhaps, towards Anarchismhan the official Guildsman would wholly approve. Its in the matters that politicians usually ignore--science and art, human relations, and the joy of life-that Anarchism is strongest, and it is chiefly for the

sake of these things that we included such more oress Anarchist proposals as the ``vagabond's wage.''t is by its effects outside economics and politics, ateast as much as by effects inside them, that a socialsystem should be judged. And if Socialism evercomes, it is only likely to prove beneficent if non-economic goods are valued and consciously pursued.

The world that we must seek is a world in whichhe creative spirit is alive, in which life is an adventureull of joy and hope, based rather upon the impulse

o construct than upon the desire to retain



what we possess or to seize what is possessed byothers. It must be a world in which affection has freeplay, in which love is purged of the instinct fordomination, in which cruelty and envy have beendispelled by happiness and the unfettered developmentof all the instincts that build up life and fill it withmental delights. Such a world is possible; it waitsonly for men to wish to create it.

Meantime, the world in which we exist has otheraims. But it will pass away, burned up in the fireof its own hot passions; and from its ashes will springa new and younger world, full of fresh hope, withhe light of morning in its eyes.

NDEX

Academy, Royal, 107

Africa, 149, 165Agriculture, 90 ff.Alexander II, 43Allemane, 60America, xi, 31, 74 ff., 125, 140, 210American Federation ofLabor, 76Anarchism, passim--defined, 33and law, 33, 51, 111 ff., 198 ff.and violence, 33, 52-4, 72, 121 ff.and distribution, 93 ff.and wages, 96 ff.anti-German, 46attitude to syndicalism, 79congress in Amsterdam, 79Ants, 152Army, private, 120, 123Art, 109, 111, 138, 166 ff., 203and appreciation, 169, 181-6and commercialism, 181

and freedom, 182Artists, 103under State Socialism, 174Asia, 149, 158, 210Australia, 151Authors, Guild of, 179Autonomy, 133, 137, 160

Backwoods, 133Bakunin, x, 3649

biography, 3747



writings, 4749and Marx, 38 ff., 59 n.and Pan-Slavism, 41, 45and Dresden insurrection, 41imprisonments, 41anti-German, 45and production, 50Bebel, 66Benbow, William, 71 n.

Bergson, 68Bernstein, 27-29, 56Bevington, 53Bismarck, 30Books under Socialism, 178Bornstedt, 39Bourgeoisie, 11Bourses du Travail, 54, 63Boycott, 68Briand, 72Bright, 21

Brooks, John Graham, 75, 77n.Brousse, Paul, 60Bureaucracy, 128, 174Button-hooks, 182

Cafiero, 48n.Capital, 6, 10, 18-25Capitalism, 2, 202and war, 139 ff.

California, 181Censor of plays, 107Champion, 91Charlton, Broughton, 19Chewing-gum, 189China, 137, 140Christ, 187Chuang Tzu, 33Churches, 201Civil Service, 128

Class war, xvi, 9 ff., 27, 29, 81,66, 116 149Clemenceau, 71Cobden, 21Cole, G. I). H., 89n., 63, 64n.,73, 76, 81n., 134, 190Communism, 10 ff.anarchist, 1, 38ff., 60, 96n.,100n., 106n.Communist Manifesto, 5, 9-18,14, 148

Competitiveness, 160



Concentration of Capital, Lawof, 8, 23-5Confederation General duTravail, 63-65, 71, 74Conquest of Bread, The, 80, 87Constantine, 108, 187Creativeness, 186-7Crime, 118 ff.Cultivation, intensive, 89

Cultures maraicheres, 91

Darwin, 173Deleon, 76Democracy, 2, 30, 129 ff., 148, 167Deutche Jahrbuscher, 38Devolution, 200Disarmament, 153Disraeli, 30Distribution, 99 ff.

Dubois, Felix, 62Duelling, 123

Education, 169 ff., 189, 193, 196Edward VI, 22Empire Knouto-Germanique, 48Engels, 3, 6, 17, 38Envy, 160-169Evils--physical,188, 207-11of character, 188, ~2-07of power, 188 ff.Evolution, 164

Fabians, 67Fear, 186, 203Feudalism, 10Fields, Factories andWorkshops, 80, 87 ff.

Finance and war, 140Finland, 144Fourier, 4n.Franco-Prussian War, 46, 86, 69Franklin, 100n.Freedom, see Liberty

George, Lloyd, 186German Communist League, 8German Working Men's

Association, 8



Germany, 144Giles, Lionel, 36n.God and the State, 48Godwin, 207Gompers, 76Gospels, The, 187Government, 111 ff., 198 ff.representative, 117, 129 ff., 137 ff.Guesde, Jules, 89-60

Guild Congress, 83, Cal ff.,Guild Socialism, xi, 80 ff., 133,192, 211and the State, 82-4, 114,184-5Guillaume, James, 36n., 37

Haywood, 77Hegel, 4Herd instinct, xv

Heubner, 41History, materialisticinterpretation of, 7Hobson, J. A., 144Hodgskin, 5n.Hulme, T. E., 29Hypocrisy, 132

dleness, 103 ff.ndependent Labor Party, 87ndia, 188ndividual 138ndustrial Relations, AmericanCommission on, 78ndustrial Workers of theWorld (I.W.W.), xi, 31, 74nternational alliance of socialistdemocracy, 44nternational fraternity, 43nternational Working Men's

Association, 6, 44 ff., 69nternationalism, 148, 150

Japan, 161Jaures, 60Jouhaux, 75Joy of Life, 206

Keats, 173

Knowledge, 168



Kropotkin, 36, 46, 80-61, 87 ff.,96n., 100n., 102, 106n.,116 ff., 179, 192Kultur, 159

Labor, integration of, 99Labor Party, 57, 150Lagardelle, 64

Law, 111 ff., 198Levine, Louis, 69n., 60n.Liberal Party, 28, 30Liberty, 111 ff., 192, 201and syndicalism, 85and anarchism, 108and creative impulse, 169,172-81and art, 182-3, 204and human relations, 204

Liquor Traffic, 137Livre, Federation du, 178Lunatics, 119Lynching, 122

Magistrates, 101Majorities, divine right of, 130, 200Malthus, 86 ff., 207 ff.Manchesterism, 29Marriage, 204Marx, x, 1-31, 36, 60, 77, 148.164biography, 3-7doctrines, 7-31, 113and Bakunin, 38 ff.and International WorkingMen's Association, 44 ff.,89n.Marzisme, La decomposition

du, 29Mazzini, 43Millennium by force, 164Millerand, 60, 61Milton, 173Miners, Western Federationof, 76, 78Money, 196Monroe Doctrine, 140Morning Star, 21Morris, William, 176



Napoleon, 120Napoleon III, 46Naquet, Alfred, 98n., 118n, 165National Guilds, 81n.National Guilds League, 82Nationalism, 17, 25, 28, 32Nations--relations of, 139 ff.

League of, 132, 200Necessaries, free? 109, 196Neue Reinische Zeitung, 41Nicholas, Tsar, 43

Opera Singers, 196Opium Traffic, 137Orage, 81n.Owen, Robert, 5n.

Pellico, Silvio, 42Pelloutier, 54, 63Permeation, 57Persia, 158Plato, viiPoets, 104Poland, 37, 144Population, 197n.Possibilists, 60Poverty, 190Power, love of, 111, 144, 160,161Press, 143Production, methods of, 87 ff.Proletariat, 11 ff.Proportional Representation,165Proudhon, 4n., 38Pugnacity, 147Punishment, 123 ff.

Rarachol, 53

Ravenstone, Piercy, 6n.Reclue, Elisee, 48n.Revisionism, 27, 66Revolution--French, 7Russian, 18, 67, 148, 164

Social, 6, 17, 70, 113, 148, 164,



164of 1848, 3, 6, 40Ruge, 38

Sabotage, 66Saint-Simon, 4n.Sand, George, 38, 41Sarajevo, 32

Scholarships, 170, 197Science, 86, 109, 138 166 ff.,189, 207men of, 207Self-interest, 125Sharing, free, 96 ff., 195Shelley, 173Single Tax, 82Slavery, 190Socialism, passim--defined, 1

English, 5French, 4, 59German, 66evolutionary, 27State, 67, 107, 115, 128, 170,174, 202, 208and distribution, 93 ff.and art and science, 164 ff.203Guild, see Guild SocialismSocialist Labor Party, 76Socialist Revolutionaries, Allianceof, 43Socialists, Inter-Allied, 156Sorel, 29, 67Spinoza, 120State, x, xi, 1, 16, 30, 48, 60,68, 78, 82-4, 107 ff., 138, 146Strikes, 66, 67, 70, 78 ff., 130Syndicalism, passim--and Marx, 28, 116

and party, 30and liberty, 85and political action, 30, 69129 ff.and anarchism, x, 66, 72,in France, 58 ff.in Italy, 58n.reformist and revolutionary,62and class-war, 65, 116and general strike, 67, 69,

130



and the State, 68, 116and Guild Socialism, 81n.,134Syndicalist Railwayman, 69Syndicates, 65

Tariffs, 137Technical Training, 169 ff., 197

Theft, 121Thompson, William, 5n.Tolstoy, 32

Trade Unionism, x, 13, 62industrial, 31, 74 ff.craft, 73Trusts, 75, 141

Utopias, vii, $, 200

Vagabond's wage, 177, 193,208, 212Villeneuves Saint Georges, 71Violence, crimes of, 121, 122,199Violence, Reflections on, 29Viviani, 60Volkstimme, 27n.Volunteers, 121

Wages, 9, 78, 9$ ff., 199iron law of, 26and art and science, 168 ff.Wagner, Richard, 41Waldeck-Rousseau, 61, 63Walkley, Mary Anne, 90War--

avoidance of, 139 ff., 199and capitalism, 139 ff.and the Press 143 ff.Women--votes for, 155economic independence of,196Work--and wages, 93 ff., 194hours of, 102, 193, 209can it be made pleasant?

100, 193, 904



Yellow races, 151, 210

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884957 Proposed Roads to Freedom by Bertrand Russell