SCIENCE AND ART UNDER SOCIALISM
SOCIALISM has been advocated by most of its
champions chiefly as a means of increasing the welfare
of the wage earning classes, and more particularly
their material welfare. It has seemed accordingly,
to some men whose aims are not material, as
if it has nothing to offer toward the general
advancement of civilization in the way of art and
thought. Some of its advocates, moreover--and
among these Marx must be included--have written,
no doubt not deliberately, as if with the Socialist
revolution the millennium would have arrived, and
there would be no need of further progress for the
human race. I do not know whether our age is more
restless than that which preceded it, or whether it
has merely become more impregnated with the idea
of evolution, but, for whatever reason, we have
grown incapable of believing in a state of static
perfection, and we demand, of any social system,
which is to have our approval, that it shall contain
within itself a stimulus and opportunity for progress
toward something still better. The doubts thus
raised by Socialist writers make it necessary to
inquire whether Socialism would in fact be hostile to
art and science, and whether it would be likely to
produce a stereotyped society in which progress
would become difficult and slow.
It is not enough that men and women should be
made comfortable in a material sense. Many members
of the well-to-do classes at present, in spite of
opportunity, contribute nothing of value to the life
of the world, and do not even succeed in securing for
themselves any personal happiness worthy to be so
called. The multiplication of such individuals would
be an achievement of the very minutest value; and
if Socialism were merely to bestow upon all the
kind of life and outlook which is now enjoyed by
the more apathetic among the well-to-do, it would
offer little that could inspire enthusiasm in any
generous 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 a
mere accessory. In this respect, we are not
distinguished from the brute. Knowledge is the goal.
If I were condemned to choose between a humanity
materially happy, glutted after the manner of a
flock of sheep in a field, and a humanity existing in
misery, but from which emanated, here and there,
some eternal truth, it is on the latter that my choice
would fall.''
[57] ``L'Anarchie et le Collectivisme,'' p. 114.
This statement puts the alternative in a very
extreme form in which it is somewhat unreal. It may
be said in reply that for those who have had the
leisure and the opportunity to enjoy ``eternal
truths'' it is easy to exalt their importance at the
expense of sufferings which fall on others. This is
true; but, if it is taken as disposing of the question,
it leaves out of account the importance of thought
for progress. Viewing the life of mankind as a whole,
in the future as well as in the present, there can be
no question that a society in which some men pursue
knowledge while others endure great poverty offers
more hope of ultimate good than a society in which
all are sunk in slothful comfort. It is true that
poverty is a great evil, but it is not true that material
prosperity is in itself a great good. If it is to have
any real value to society, it must be made a means to
the advancement of those higher goods that belong
to the life of the mind. But the life of the mind does
not consist of thought and knowledge alone, nor
can it be completely healthy unless it has some
instinctive contact, however deeply buried, with the
general life of the community. Divorced from the
social instinct, thought, like art, tends to become
finicky and precious. It is the position of such art
and thought as is imbued with the instinctive sense
of service to mankind that we wish to consider, for
it is this alone that makes up the life of the mind
in the sense in which it is a vital part of the life of
the community. Will the life of the mind in this
sense be helped or hindered by Socialism? And will
there still be a sufficient spur to progress to prevent
a condition of Byzantine immobility?
In considering this question we are, in a certain
sense, passing outside the atmosphere of democracy.
The general good of the community is realized only
in individuals, but it is realized much more fully in
some individuals than in others. Some men have a
comprehensive and penetrating intellect, enabling
them to appreciate and remember what has been
thought and known by their predecessors, and to
discover new regions in which they enjoy all the
high delights of the mental explorer. Others have
the power of creating beauty, giving bodily form to
impalpable visions out of which joy comes to many.
Such men are more fortunate than the mass, and also
more important for the collective life. A larger share
of the general sum of good is concentrated in them
than in the ordinary man and woman; but also their
contribution to the general good is greater. They
stand out among men and cannot be wholly fitted
into the framework of democratic equality. A social
system which would render them unproductive would
stand condemned, whatever other merits it might
have.
The first thing to realize--though it is difficult in
a commercial age--is that what is best in creative
mental activity cannot be produced by any system
of monetary rewards. Opportunity and the stimulus
of an invigorating spiritual atmosphere are important,
but, if they are presented, no financial inducements
will 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 a
certain pleasure in old age to the man of science
who has battled all his life against academic
prejudice, or to the artist who has endured years of
ridicule for not painting in the manner of his
predecessors; but it is not by the remote hope of such
pleasures that their work has been inspired. All
the most important work springs from an uncalculating
impulse, and is best promoted, not by rewards
after the event, but by circumstances which keep the
impulse alive and afford scope for the activities
which it inspires. In the creation of such circumstances
our present system is much at fault. Will
Socialism be better?
I do not think this question can be answered
without specifying the kind of Socialism that is intended:
some forms of Socialism would, I believe, be
even more destructive in this respect than the present
capitalist regime, while others would be immeasurably
better. Three things which a social system can
provide or withhold are helpful to mental creation:
first, technical training; second, liberty to follow
the creative impulse; third, at least the possibility of
ultimate appreciation by some public, whether large
or small. We may leave out of our discussion both
individual genius and those intangible conditions
which make some ages great and others sterile in art
and science--not because these are unimportant, but
because they are too little understood to be taken
account of in economic or political organization.
The three conditions we have mentioned seem to cover
most of what can be SEEN to be useful or harmful
from our present point of view, and it is therefore
to them that we shall confine ourselves.
1. Technical Training.--Technical training at
present, whether in science or art, requires one or
other of two conditions. Either a boy must be the
son of well-to-do parents who can afford to keep
him while he acquires his education, or he must show
so much ability at an early age as to enable him to
subsist on scholarships until he is ready to earn his
living. The former condition is, of course, a mere
matter of luck, and could not be preserved in its
present 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 same
extent, a real loss. But the well-to-do are a small
proportion of the population, and presumably on the
average no more talented by nature than their less
fortunate contemporaries. If the advantages which
are enjoyed now by those few among them who are
capable of good work in science or art could be
extended, even in a slightly attenuated form, to all
who are similarly gifted, the result would almost
infallibly be a gain, and much ability which is now
wasted would be rendered fruitful. But how is this
to be effected?
The system of scholarships obtained by competition,
though better than nothing, is objectionable
from many points of view. It introduces the competitive
spirit into the work of the very young; it
makes them regard knowledge from the standpoint
of what is useful in examinations rather than in the
light of its intrinsic interest or importance; it places
a premium upon that sort of ability which is displayed
precociously in glib answers to set questions
rather than upon the kind that broods on difficulties
and remains for a time rather dumb. What is perhaps
worse than any of these defects is the tendency
to cause overwork in youth, leading to lack of vigor
and interest when manhood has been reached. It
can hardly be doubted that by this cause, at present,
many fine minds have their edge blunted and their
keenness 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 it
would be very harmful. State Socialists at present
tend to be enamored of the systems which is exactly
of the kind that every bureaucrat loves: orderly,
neat, giving a stimulus to industrious habits, and
involving no waste of a sort that could be tabulated
in statistics or accounts of public expenditure.
Such men will argue that free higher education is
expensive to the community, and only useful in the
case of those who have exceptional abilities; it
ought, therefore, they will say, not to be given to all,
but only to those who will become more useful members
of society through receiving it. Such arguments
make a great appeal to what are called ``practical''
men, and the answers to them are of a sort which it
is difficult to render widely convincing. Revolt
against the evils of competition is, however, part
of the very essence of the Socialist's protest against
the existing order, and on this ground, if on no other,
those who favor Socialism may be summoned to look
for some better solution.
Much the simplest solution, and the only really
effective one, is to make every kind of education free
up to the age of twenty-one for all boys and girls
who desire it. The majority will be tired of education
before that age, and will prefer to begin other
work sooner; this will lead to a natural selection of
those with strong interests in some pursuit requiring
a long training. Among those selected in this way
by their own inclinations, probably almost all tho
have marked abilities of the kind in question will be
included. It is true that there will also be many
who have very little ability; the desire to become a
painter, for example, is by no means confined to
those who can paint. But this degree of waste could
well be borne by the community; it would be immeasurably
less than that now entailed by the support
of the idle rich. Any system which aims at
avoiding this kind of waste must entail the far more
serious waste of rejecting or spoiling some of the
best ability in each generation. The system of free
education up to any grade for all who desire it is
the only system which is consistent with the principles
of liberty, and the only one which gives a reasonable
hope of affording full scope for talent. This system
is equally compatible with all forms of Socialism
and Anarchism. Theoretically, it is compatible with
capitalism, but practically it is so opposite in spirit
that it would hardly be feasible without a complete
economic reconstruction. The fact that Socialism
would 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 be
stupendous.
2. Liberty to follow the creative impulse.--
When a man's training has been completed, if he is
possessed of really great abilities, he will do his best
work if he is completely free to follow his bent,
creating what seems good to him, regardless of the
judgment of ``experts.'' At present this is only
possible for two classes of people: those who have
private means, and those who can earn a living by
an occupation that does not absorb their whole
energies. Under Socialism, there will be no one with
private means, and if there is to be no loss as
regards art and science, the opportunity which now
comes by accident to a few will have to be provided
deliberately for a much larger number. The men
who have used private means as an opportunity for
creative work have been few but important: one
might mention Milton, Shelley, Keats and Darwin as
examples. Probably none of these would have produced
as good work if they had had to earn their
livelihood. If Darwin had been a university teacher,
he would of course have been dismissed from his post
by the influence of the clerics on account of his
scandalous theories.
Nevertheless, the bulk of the creative work of the
world is done at present by men who subsist by
some other occupation. Science, and research generally,
are usually done in their spare time by men
who live by teaching. There is no great objection to
this in the case of science, provided the number of
hours devoted to teaching is not excessive. It is
partly because science and teaching are so easily
combined that science is vigorous in the present age.
In music, a composer who is also a performer enjoys
similar advantages, but one who is not a performer
must starve, unless he is rich or willing to pander to
the public taste. In the fine arts, as a rule, it is not
easy in the modern world either to make a living by
really good work or to find a subsidiary profession
which leaves enough leisure for creation. This is
presumably one reason, though by no means the only
one, why art is less flourishing than science.
The bureaucratic State Socialist will have a
simple solution for these difficulties. He will appoint
a body consisting of the most eminent celebrities in
an art or a science, whose business it shall be to judge
the work of young men, and to issue licenses to those
whose productions find favor in their eyes. A licensed
artist shall be considered to have performed his duty
to the community by producing works of art. But of
course he will have to prove his industry by never
failing to produce in reasonable quantities, and his
continued ability by never failing to please his
eminent judges--until, in the fulness of time, he
becomes a judge himself. In this way, the authorities
will insure that the artist shall be competent,
regular, 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 seek
some less dubious mode of earning their living. Such
will be the ideal of the State Socialist.
In such a world all that makes life tolerable to
the lover of beauty would perish. Art springs from
a wild and anarchic side of human nature; between
the artist and the bureaucrat there must always be
a profound mutual antagonism, an age-long battle
in which the artist, always outwardly worsted, wins
in the end through the gratitude of mankind for the
joy that he puts into their lives. If the wild side
of human nature is to be permanently subjected to
the orderly rules of the benevolent, uncomprehending
bureaucrat, the joy of life will perish out of the
earth, and the very impulse to live will gradually
wither and die. Better a thousandfold the present
world with all its horrors than such a dead mummy
of a world. Better Anarchism, with all its risks,
than a State Socialism that subjects to rule what
must be spontaneous and free if it is to have any
value. It is this nightmare that makes artists, and
lovers of beauty generally, so often suspicious of
Socialism. But there is nothing in the essence of
Socialism to make art impossible: only certain forms
of Socialism would entail this danger. William
Morris was a Socialist, and was a Socialist very
largely because he was an artist. And in this he
was not irrational.
It is impossible for art, or any of the higher
creative activities, to flourish under any system which
requires that the artist shall prove his competence to
some body of authorities before he is allowed to follow
his impulse. Any really great artist is almost
sure to be thought incompetent by those among his
seniors who would be generally regarded as best
qualified to form an opinion. And the mere fact of
having to produce work which will please older men
is hostile to a free spirit and to bold innovation.
Apart from this difficulty, selection by older men
would lead to jealousy and intrigue and back-biting,
producing a poisonous atmosphere of underground
competition. The only effect of such a plan would be
to eliminate the few who now slip through owing to
some fortunate accident. It is not by any system,
but by freedom alone, that art can flourish.
There are two ways by which the artist could
secure freedom under Socialism of the right kind.
He might undertake regular work outside his art,
doing only a few hours' work a day and receiving
proportionately less pay than those who do a full
day's work. He ought, in that case, to be at liberty
to sell his pictures if he could find purchasers. Such
a system would have many advantages. It would
leave absolutely every man free to become an artist,
provided he were willing to suffer a certain economic
loss. This would not deter those in whom the impulse
was strong and genuine, but would tend to
exclude the dilettante. Many young artists at
present endure voluntarily much greater poverty
than need be entailed by only doing half the usual
day'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, and
as an offset to the peculiar joys of the creative life.
The other possibility[58] would be that the necessaries
of life should be free, as Anarchists desire, to
all equally, regardless of whether they work or not.
Under this plan, every man could live without work:
there would be what might be called a ``vagabond's
wage,'' sufficient for existence but not for luxury.
The artist who preferred to have his whole time for
art and enjoyment might live on the ``vagabond's
wage''--traveling on foot when the humor seized him
to see foreign countries, enjoying the air and the
sun, as free as the birds, and perhaps scarcely less
happy. Such men would bring color and diversity
into the life of the community; their outlook would be
different from that of steady, stay-at-home workers,
and would keep alive a much-needed element of light-
heartedness which our sober, serious civilization tends
to 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 capacity
for simple enjoyments to choose poverty and free-
dom in preference to the comparatively light and
pleasant work which will be usual in those days.
[58] Which we discussed in Chapter IV.
By either of these methods, freedom can be preserved
for the artist in a socialistic commonwealth--
far more complete freedom, and far more widespread,
than any that now exists except for the possessors of
capital.
But there still remain some not altogether easy
problems. Take, for example, the publishing of books.
There will not, under Socialism, be private publishers
as at present: under State Socialism, presumably the
State will be the sole publisher, while under Syndicalism
or Guild Socialism the Federation du Livre
will have the whole of the trade in its hands. Under
these circumstances, who is to decide what MSS. are
to be printed? It is clear that opportunities exist
for an Index more rigorous than that of the Inquisition.
If the State were the sole publisher, it would
doubtless refuse books opposed to State Socialism.
If the Federation du Livre were the ultimate arbiter,
what publicity could be obtained for works criticising
it? And apart from such political difficulties
we should have, as regards literature, that
very censorship by eminent officials which we agreed
to regard as disastrous when we were considering the
fine arts in general. The difficulty is serious, and a
way of meeting it must be found if literature is to
remain free.
Kropotkin, who believes that manual and intellectual
work should be combined, holds that authors
themselves should be compositors, bookbinders, etc.
He even seems to suggest that the whole of the manual
work involved in producing books should be done by
authors. It may be doubted whether there are
enough authors in the world for this to be possible,
and in any case I cannot but think that it would
be a waste of time for them to leave the work they
understand in order to do badly work which others
could do far better and more quickly. That, however,
does not touch our present point, which is the
question how the MSS. to be printed will be selected.
In Kropotkin's plan there will presumably be an
Author's Guild, with a Committee of Management,
if Anarchism allows such things. This Committee
of Management will decide which of the books submitted
to it are worthy to be printed. Among these
will be included those by the Committee and their
friends, but not those by their enemies. Authors
of rejected MSS. will hardly have the patience to
spend their time setting up the works of successful
rivals, and there will have to be an elaborate system
of log-rolling if any books are to be printed at all.
It hardly looks as if this plan would conduce to harmony
among literary men, or would lead to the publication
of any book of an unconventional tendency.
Kropotkin's own books, for example, would hardly
have found favor.
The only way of meeting these difficulties, whether
under State Socialism or Guild Socialism or Anarchism,
seems to be by making it possible for an author
to pay for the publication of his book if it is not
such as the State or the Guild is willing to print at
its own expense. I am aware that this method is contrary
to the spirit of Socialism, but I do not see what
other way there is of securing freedom. The payment
might be made by undertaking to engage for
an assigned period in some work of recognized utility
and to hand over such proportion of the earnings as
might be necessary. The work undertaken might
of course be, as Kropotkin suggests, the manual part
of the production of books, but I see no special reason
why it should be. It would have to be an absolute
rule that no book should be refused, no matter what
the nature of its contents might be, if payment for
publication were offered at the standard rate. An
author who had admirers would be able to secure their
help in payment. An unknown author might, it is
true, have to suffer a considerable loss of comfort
in order to make his payment, but that would give
an automatic means of eliminating those whose writing
was not the result of any very profound impulse
and would be by no means wholly an evil.
Probably some similar method would be desirable
as regards the publishing and performing of new
music.
What we have been suggesting will, no doubt, be
objected to by orthodox Socialists, since they will find
something repugnant to their principles in the whole
idea of a private person paying to have certain
work done. But it is a mistake to be the slave of a
system, and every system, if it is applied rigidly, will
entail evils which could only be avoided by some
concession to the exigencies of special cases. On the
whole, a wise form of Socialism might afford infinitely
better opportunities for the artist and the man of
science than are possible in a capitalist community,
but only if the form of Socialism adopted is one
which is fitted for this end by means of provisions
such as we have been suggesting.
3. Possibility of Appreciation.--This condition
is one which is not necessary to all who do creative
work, but in the sense in which I mean it the great
majority find it very nearly indispensable. I do not
mean widespread public recognition, nor that ignorant,
half-sincere respect which is commonly accorded
to artists who have achieved success. Neither of
these serves much purpose. What I mean is rather
understanding, and a spontaneous feeling that things
of beauty are important. In a thoroughly commercialized
society, an artist is respected if he makes
money, and because he makes money, but there is no
genuine respect for the works of art by which his
money has been made. A millionaire whose fortune
has been made in button-hooks or chewing-gum is
regarded with awe, but none of this feeling is
bestowed on the articles from which his wealth is
derived. In a society which measures all things by
money the same tends to be true of the artist. If he
has become rich he is respected, though of course
less than the millionaire, but his pictures or books
or music are regarded as the chewing-gum or the button-
hooks are regarded, merely as a means to money.
In such an atmosphere it is very difficult for the artist
to preserve his creative impulse pure: either he is
contaminated by his surroundings, or he becomes
embittered through lack of appreciation for the object
of his endeavor.
It is not appreciation of the artist that is necessary
so much as appreciation of the art. It is difficult
for an artist to live in an environment in which
everything is judged by its utility, rather than by its
intrinsic quality. The whole side of life of which
art is the flower requires something which may be
called disinterestedness, a capacity for direct
enjoyment without thought of tomorrow's problems and
difficulties. When people are amused by a joke they
do not need to be persuaded that it will serve some
important purpose. The same kind of direct pleasure
is involved in any genuine appreciation of art.
The struggle for life, the serious work of a trade or
profession, is apt to make people too solemn for
jokes and too pre-occupied for art. The easing of
the struggle, the diminution in the hours of work, and
the lightening of the burden of existence, which would
result from a better economic system, could hardly
fail to increase the joy of life and the vital energy,
available for sheer delight in the world. And if this
were achieved there would inevitably be more spontaneous
pleasure in beautiful things, and more enjoyment
of the work of artists. But none of these good
results are to be expected from the mere removal
of poverty: they all require also a diffused sense of
freedom, and the absence of that feeling of oppression
by a vast machine which now weighs down the individual
spirit. I do not think State Socialism can give
this sense of freedom, but some other forms of Socialism,
which have absorbed what is true in Anarchist
teaching, can give it to a degree of which capitalism is
wholly incapable.
A general sense of progress and achievement is
an immense stimulus to all forms of creative work.
For this reason, a great deal will depend, not only
in material ways, upon the question whether methods
of production in industry and agriculture become
stereotyped or continue to change rapidly as they
have done during the last hundred years. Improved
methods of production will be much more obviously
than now to the interest of the community at large,
when what every man receives is his due share of the
total produce of labor. But there will probably not
be any individuals with the same direct and intense
interest in technical improvements as now belongs
to the capitalist in manufacture. If the natural
conservatism of the workers is not to prove stronger
than their interest in increasing production, it will
be necessary that, when better methods are introduced
by the workers in any industry, part at least
of the benefit should be allowed for a time to be
retained by them. If this is done, it may be presumed
that each Guild will be continually seeking for new
processes or inventions, and will value those technical
parts of scientific research which are useful for this
purpose. With every improvement, the question will
arise whether it is to be used to give more leisure or to
increase the dividend of commodities. Where there
is so much more leisure than there is now, there will
be many more people with a knowledge of science or
an understanding of art. The artist or scientific
investigator will be far less cut off than he is at
present from the average citizen, and this will almost
inevitably be a stimulus to his creative energy.
I think we may fairly conclude that, from the
point of view of all three requisites for art and science,
namely, training, freedom and appreciation, State
Socialism would largely fail to remove existing
evils and would introduce new evils of its own; but
Guild Socialism, or even Syndicalism, if it adopted
a liberal policy toward those who preferred to work
less than the usual number of hours at recognized
occupations, might be immeasurably preferable to
anything that is possible under the rule of capitalism.
There are dangers, but they will all vanish if the
importance of liberty is adequately acknowledged.
In this as in nearly everything else, the road to all
that is best is the road of freedom.