When every one's talking sae much of Bolsheviki and Soviets it's hard
to follow what it's just all about. It's a serious subject--aye, I'd
be the last to say it wasna that! But, man--there's sae little in this
world that's no got its lighter side, if we'll but see it!
I'm a great yin for consistency. Men are consistent--mair than women,
I think. My wife will no agree with that, but it shall stand in spite
of her. I'll be maister in my ain book, even if I canna be such in my
ain hoose! And when it comes to all this talk of Bolshevism, I'm
wondering how the ones that are for it would like it if their
principles were really applied consistently to everything?
Tak' the theatre, just for an example. I mind a time when there was
nearly a strike. It was in America, once, and I was on tour in the far
West. Wall Morris, he that takes care of all such affairs for me, had
given me a grand company. On those tours, ye ken, I travel with my ain
company. That time there were my pipers, of coorse--it wouldna be my
performance without those braw laddies. And there was a bonnie lassie
to sing Scots songs in her lovely voice--a wee bit of a lassie she
was, that surprised you with the strength of her voice when she sang.
There was a dancer, and some Japanese acrobats, and a couple more
turns--another singer, a man, and two who whistled like birds. And
then there was just me, tae come on last.
Weel, there'd be trouble, once in sae often, aboot how they should gae
on. None of them liked tae open the show; they thocht they were too
good for that. And so they were, all of them, bless their hearts.
There was no a bad act amang the lot. But still--some one had to
appear first! And some one had to give orders. I forget, the noo, just
how it was settled, but settled it was, at any rate, and all was
peaceful and happy.
And then, whoever it was that did open got ill one nicht, and there
was a terrible disturbance. No one was willing to take the first turn.
And for a while it looked as if we could no get it settled any way at
all. So I said that I would open the show, and they could follow,
afterward, any way they pleased--or else that so and so must open, and
no more argument. They did as I said.
But now, suppose there'd been a Bolshevik organization of the company?
Suppose each act had had a vote in a council. Each one would have
voted for a different one to open, and the fight could never have been
settled. It took some one to decide it--and a way of enforcing the
decision--to mak' that simple matter richt.
I'm afraid of these Bolsheviki because I don't think they know just
what they are doing. I can deal with a man, whether I agree with him
or no, if he just knows what it is he wants to do, and how. I'll find
some common ground that we can both stand on while we have out our
differences. But these folk aren't like that. They say what they don't
mean. And they tell you, if you complain of that, they are interested
only in the end they want to attain, and that the means they use don't
matter.
Folk like that make an agreement never meaning to stick to it, ust to
get the better of you for a little while. They mak' any promise you
demand of them to get you quieted and willing to leave them alone, and
then when the time comes and it suits them they'll break it, and laugh
in your face. I'm not guessing or joking. And it's not the Bolshevists
in Russia I'm thinking of--it's the followers of them in Britain and
America, no matter what they choose to call themselves.
I've nothing to say about an out-and-out union labor fight. I've been
oot on strike maself and I ken there's times when men have to strike
to get their rights. They've reason for it then, and it's another
matter. But some of the new sort of leaders of the men think anything
is fair when they're dealing with an employer. They'll mak' agreements
they've no sort of thought of keeping. I'll admit it's to their credit
that they're frank.
They say, practically: "We'll make promises, but we won't keep them.
We'll make a truce, but no peace. And we'll choose the time when the
truce is to be broken."
And what I'm wanting to know is how are we going to do business that
way, and live together, and keep cities and countries going? And
suppose, just suppose, noo, doctrine like that was consistently
applied?
Here's Mr. Radical. He's courtin' a lassie--supposing he's no one of
those that believe in free love--and maybe if he is! I've found that
the way to cure those that have such notions as that is to let the
right lassie lay her een upon them. She'll like him fine as a suitor,
maybe. She'll like the way he'll be taking her to dances, and spending
his siller on presents for her, and on taking her oot to dinner, and
the theatre. But, ye'll ken, she's no thocht of marrying him.
Still, just to keep him dangling, she promises she wull, and she'll
let him slip his arm aboot her, and kiss her noo and again. But whiles
she finds the lad she really loves, and she's off wi' him. Mr. Radical
comes and reminds her of her promise.
"Oh, aye," she'll say, wi' a flirt of her head. "But that was like the
promise you made at the works that you'd keep the men at work for a
year on the new scale--when you called them oot on strike again within
a month! Good day to you!"
Wull Mr. Radical say that's all richt, and that what's all sound and
proper when he does it is the same when it's she does it tae him? Wull
he? Not he! He'll call her false, and tell the tale of her perfidy tae
all that wull listen to him!
But there's a thing we folk that want to keep things straight must aye
remember. And that's that if everything was as it should be, Mr.
Radical and his kind could get no following. It's because there's
oppression and injustice in this bonny world of ours that an opening
is made for those who think as do Trotzky and Lenine and the other
Russians whose names are too hard for a simple plain man to remember.
We maun e'en get ahead of the agitators and the trouble makers by
mending what's wrong. It's the way they use truth that makes them
dangerous. Their lies wull never hurt the world except for a little
while. It's because there's some truth in what they say that they make
so great an impression as they do. Folk do starve that ask nothing
better than a chance to earn money for themselves and their families
by hard work. There is poverty and misfortune in the world that micht
be prevented--that wull be prevented, if only we work as hard for
humanity now that we have peace as we did when we were at war.
Noo, here's an example of what I'm thinking of. I said, a while back,
that the folk that don't have bairns and raise them to make good
citizens were traitors. Well, so they are. But, after a', it's no
always their fault. When landlords wull not let their property to the
families that have weans, it's a hard thing to think about. And it's
that sort of thing makes folk turn into hating the way the world is
organized and conducted. No man ought to have the richt to deny a hame
to a man and his wife because they've a bairn to care for.
And then, too, there's many an employer bears doon upon those who work
for him, because he's strong and they're weak. He'll say his business
is his ain, to conduct as he sees fit. So it is--up to a certain
point. But he canna conduct it by his lane, can he? He maun have help,
or he would not hire men and women and pay them wages. And when he
maun have their help he makes them his partners, in a way.
Jock'll be working for such an employer. He'll be needing more money,
because the rent's been raised, and the wife's ailing. And his
employer wull say he's sorry, maybe, but he canna afford to pay Jock
more wages, because the cost of, diamonds such as his wife would be
wearing has gone up, and gasolene for his motor car is more expensive,
and silk shirts cost more. Oh, aye--I ken he'll no be telling Jock
that, but those wull be his real reasons, for a' that!
Noo, what's Jock to do? He can quit--oh, aye! But Jock hasna the time,
whiles he's at work, to hunt him anither job. He maun just tak' his
chances, if he quits, and be out of work for a week or twa, maybe. And
Jock canna afford that; he makes sae little that he hasna any siller
worth speaking of saved up. So when his employer says, short like: "I
cannot pay you more, Jock--tak' it or leave it!" there's nothing for
Jock to do. And he grows bitter and discontented, and when some
Bolshevik agitator comes along and tells Jock he's being ill used and
that the way to make himself better off is to follow the revolutionary
way, Jock's likely to believe him.
There's a bit o' truth, d'you see, in what the agitator tells Jock.
Jock is ill used. He knows his employer has all and more than he needs
or can use--he knows he has to pinch and worry and do without, and see
his wife and his bairns miserable, so that the employer can live on
the fat of the land. And he's likely, is he no, to listen to the first
man who comes along and tells him he has a way to cure a' that? Can ye
blame a man for that?
The plain truth is that richt noo, when there's more prosperity than
we've ever seen before, there are decent, hard workingmen who canna
afford to have as many bairns as they would wish, for lack of the
siller to care for them properly after they come. There are men who
mak' no more in wages than they did five years ago, when everything
cost half what it does the noo. And they're listening to those who
preach of general strikes, and overthrowing the state, and all the
other wild remedies the agitators recommend.
Now, we know, you and I, that these remedies wouldn't cure the faults
that we can see. We know that in Russia they're worse off for the way
they've heeded Lenine and Trotzky and their crew. We know that you
can't alter human nature that way, and that when customs and
institutions have grown up for thousands of years it's because most
people have found them good and useful. But here's puir Jock! What
interests him is how he's to buy shoes for Jean and Andy, and a new
dress for the wife, and milk for the wean that's been ailing ever
since she was born. He hears the bairns crying, after they're put to
bed, because they're hungry. And he counts his siller wi' the gude
wife, every pay day, and they try to see what can they do without
themselves that the bairns may be better off.
"Eh, man Jock, listen to me," says the sleek, well fed agitator. "Join
us, and you'll be able to live as well as the King himself. Your
employer's robbing you. He's buying diamonds for his wife with the
siller should be feeding your bairns."
Foolishness? Oh, aye--but it's easier for you and me to see than for
Jock, is it no?
And just suppose, noo, that a union comes and Jock gets a chance to
join it--a real, old fashioned union, not one of the new sort that's
for upsetting everything. It brings Jock and Sandy and Tom and all the
rest of the men in the works together. And there's one man, speaking
for a' of them, to talk to the employer.
"The men maun have more money, sir," he'll say, respectfully.
"I cannot pay it," says the employer.
"Then they'll go out on strike," says the union leader.
And the employer will whine and complain! But, do you mind, the shoe's
on the other foot the noo! For now, if they all quit, it hurts him. He
wouldna mind Jock quitting, sae lang as the rest stayed. But when they
all go out together it shuts doon his works, and he begins to lose
siller. And so he's likely to find that he can squeeze out a few
shillings extra for each man's pay envelope, though that had seemed so
impossible before. Jock, by himself, is weak, and at his employer's
mercy. But Jock, leagued with all the other men in the works, has
power.
Now, I hear a lot of talk from employers that sounds fine but is no
better, when you come to pick it to pieces, than the talk of the
agitators. Oh, I'll believe you if you tell me they're sincere, and
believe what they say! But that does not mak' it richt for me to
believe them, too!
Here's your employer who won't deal with a union.
"Every man in my shop can come to my office at any time and talk to
me," he'll say. "He needs no union delegate to speak for him. I'll
talk to the men any time, and do everything I can to adjust any
legitimate grievance they may have. But I won't deal with men who
presume to speak for them--with union delegates and leaders."
But can he no see, or wull he no see, that it's only when all the men
in his shop bind themselves together that they can talk to him as man
to man, as equal to equal? He's stronger than any one or twa of them,
but when the lot of them are leagued together they are his match.
That's what's meant by collective bargaining, and the employer who
won't recognize that right is behind the times, and is just inviting
trouble for himself and all the rest of us.
Let me tell you a story I heard in America on my last tour. I was away
oot on the Pacific coast. It was when America was beginning her great
effort in the war, and she was trying to build airplanes fast enough
to win the mastery of the air frae the Hun. She needed spruce for
them--and to supply us and France and Italy, as well. That spruce grew
in great, damp forests in the States of Oregon and Washington--one
great tree, that was suitable for making aircraft, to an acre, maybe.
It was a great task to select those trees and hew them doon, and split
and cut them up.
And in those forests lumbermen had been working for years. It was
hard, punishing work; work for strong, rough men. And those who owned
the forests and employed the men were strong, hard men themselves, as
they had need to be. But they could not see that the men they employed
had any richt to organize themselves. So always they fought, when a
union appeared in the forests, and they had beaten them all.
The men were weak, dealing, each by himself, with his employer. The
employers were strong. But presently a new sort of union came--the I.
W. W. It did as it pleased. It cheated and lied. It made promises and
didn't keep them. It didn't fight fair, the way the old unions did.
And the men flocked to it--not because they liked to fight that way,
but because that was the first time they had had a chance to deal with
their employers on even terms.
So, very quickly, the I. W. W. had organized most of the men who
worked in the forests. There had been a strike, the summer before I
was there, and, after the men went back to work, they still soldiered
on their jobs and did as little as they could--that was the way the I.
W. W. taught them to do.
"Don't stay out on strike and lose your pay," the I. W. W. leaders
said. "That's foolish. Go back--but do as little as you can and still
not be dismissed. Poll a log whenever you can without being caught.
Make all the trouble and expense you can for the bosses."
And here was the world, all humanity, needing the spruce, and these
men acting so! The American army was ordered to step in. And a wise
American officer, seeing what was wrong, soon mended matters. He was
stronger than employers and men put together. He put all that was
wrong richt. He saw to it that the men got good hours, good pay, good
working conditions. He organized a new union among them that had
nothing to do with the I. W. W. but that was strong enough to make the
employers deal fairly with it.
And sae it was that the I. W. W. began to lose its members. For it
turned out that the men wanted to be fair and honorable, if the
employers would but meet them half way, and so, in no time at all,
work was going on better than ever, and the I. W. W. leaders could
make no headway at all among the workers. It is only men who are
discontented because they are unfairly treated who listen to such folk
as those agitators. And is there no a lesson for all of us in that?