CHAPTER VII

THE TRANSFORMATION OF SOCIALISM

Socialism is one of the simplest ideas in the world. It has always

puzzled me how there came to be so much bewilderment and

misunderstanding and miserable mutual slander about it. At one time I

agreed with Socialism, because it was simple. Now I disagree with

Socialism, because it is too simple. Yet most of its opponents still

seem to treat it, not merely as an iniquity but as a mystery of

iniquity, which seems to mystify them even more than it maddens them.

It may not seem strange that its antagonists should be puzzled about

what it is. It may appear more curious and interesting that its

admirers are equally puzzled. Its foes used to denounce Socialism as

Anarchy, which is its opposite. Its friends seemed to suppose that it

is a sort of optimism, which is almost as much of an opposite. Friends

and foes alike talked as if it involved a sort of faith in ideal human

nature; why I could never imagine. The Socialist system, in a more

special sense than any other, is founded not on optimism but on

original sin. It proposes that the State, as the conscience of the

community, should possess all primary forms of property; and that

obviously on the ground that men cannot be trusted to own or barter

or combine or compete without injury to themselves. Just as a State

might own all the guns lest people should shoot each other, so this

State would own all the gold and land lest they should cheat or

rackrent or exploit each other. It seems extraordinarily simple and

even obvious; and so it is. It is too obvious to be true. But while it

is obvious, it seems almost incredible that anybody ever thought it

optimistic.

I am myself primarily opposed to Socialism, or Collectivism or

Bolshevism or whatever we call it, for a primary reason not

immediately involved here: the ideal of property. I say the ideal and

not merely the idea; and this alone disposes of the moral mistake in

the matter. It disposes of all the dreary doubts of the

Anti-Socialists about men not yet being angels, and all the yet

drearier hopes of the Socialists about men soon being supermen. I do

not admit that private property is a concession to baseness and

selfishness; I think it is a point of honour. I think it is the most

truly popular of all points of honour. But this, though it has

everything to do with my plea for a domestic dignity, has nothing to

do with this passing summary of the situation of Socialism. I only

remark in passing that it is vain for the more vulgar sort of

Capitalist, sneering at ideals, to say to me that in order to have

Socialism "You must alter human nature." I answer "Yes. You must alter

it for the worse."

The clouds were considerably cleared away from the meaning of

Socialism by the Fabians of the 'nineties; by Mr. Bernard Shaw, a

sort of anti-romantic Quixote, who charged chivalry as chivalry

charged windmills, with Sidney Webb for his Sancho Panza. In so far as

these paladins had a castle to defend, we may say that their castle

was the Post Office. The red pillar-box was the immovable post against

which the irresistible force of Capitalist individualism was arrested.

Business men who said that nothing could be managed by the State were

forced to admit that they trusted all their business letters and

business telegrams to the State.

After all, it was not found necessary to have an office competing with

another office, trying to send out pinker postage-stamps or more

picturesque postmen. It was not necessary to efficiency that the

postmistress should buy a penny stamp for a halfpenny and sell it for

twopence; or that she should haggle and beat customers down about the

price of a postal order; or that she should always take tenders for

telegrams. There was obviously nothing actually impossible about the

State management of national needs; and the Post Office was at least

tolerably managed. Though it was not always a model employer, by any

means, it might be made so by similar methods. It was not impossible

that equitable pay, and even equal pay, could be given to the

Postmaster-General and the postman. We had only to extend this rule of

public responsibility, and we should escape from all the terror of

insecurity and torture of compassion, which hag-rides humanity in the

insane extremes of economic inequality and injustice. As Mr. Shaw put

it, "A man must save Society's honour before he can save his own."

That was one side of the argument: that the change would remove

inequality; and there was an answer on the other side. It can be

stated most truly by putting another model institution and edifice

side by side with the Post Office. It is even more of an ideal

republic, or commonwealth without competition or private profit. It

supplies its citizens not only with the stamps but with clothes and

food and lodging, and all they require. It observes considerable level

of equality in these things; notably in the clothes. It not only

supervises the letters but all the other human communications; notably

the sort of evil communications that corrupt good manners. This twin

model to the Post Office is called the Prison. And much of the scheme

for a model State was regarded by its opponents as a scheme for a

model prison; good because it fed men equally, but less acceptable

since it imprisoned them equally.

It is better to be in a bad prison than in a good one. From the

standpoint of the prisoner this is not at all a paradox; if only

because in a bad prison he is more likely to escape. But apart from

that, a man was in many ways better off in the old dirty and corrupt

prison, where he could bribe turnkeys to bring him drink and meet

fellow-prisoners to drink with. Now that is exactly the difference

between the present system and the proposed system. Nobody worth

talking about respects the present system. Capitalism is a corrupt

prison. That is the best that can be said for Capitalism. But it is

something to be said for it; for a man is a little freer in that

corrupt prison than he would be in a complete prison. As a man can

find one jailer more lax than another, so he could find one employer

more kind than another; he has at least a choice of tyrants. In the

other case he finds the same tyrant at every turn. Mr. Shaw and other

rational Socialists have agreed that the State would be in practice

government by a small group. Any independent man who disliked that

group would find his foe waiting for him at the end of every road.

It may be said of Socialism, therefore, very briefly, that its friends

recommended it as increasing equality, while its foes resisted it as

decreasing liberty. On the one hand it was said that the State could

provide homes and meals for all; on the other it was answered that

this could only be done by State officials who would inspect houses

and regulate meals. The compromise eventually made was one of the most

interesting and even curious cases in history. It was decided to do

everything that had ever been denounced in Socialism, and nothing that

had ever been desired in it. Since it was supposed to gain equality at

the sacrifice of liberty, we proceeded to prove that it was possible

to sacrifice liberty without gaining equality. Indeed, there was not

the faintest attempt to gain equality, least of all economic equality.

But there was a very spirited and vigorous effort to eliminate

liberty, by means of an entirely new crop of crude regulations and

interferences. But it was not the Socialist State regulating those

whom it fed, like children or even like convicts. It was the

Capitalist State raiding those whom it had trampled and deserted in

every sort of den, like outlaws or broken men. It occurred to the

wiser sociologists that, after all, it would be easy to proceed more

promptly to the main business of bullying men, without having gone

through the laborious preliminary business of supporting them. After

all, it was easy to inspect the house without having helped to build

it; it was even possible, with luck, to inspect the house in time to

prevent it being built. All that is described in the documents of the

Housing Problem; for the people of this age loved problems and hated

solutions. It was easy to restrict the diet without providing the

dinner. All that can be found in the documents of what is called

Temperance Reform.

In short, people decided that it was impossible to achieve any of the

good of Socialism, but they comforted themselves by achieving all the

bad. All that official discipline, about which the Socialists

themselves were in doubt or at least on the defensive, was taken over

bodily by the Capitalists. They have now added all the bureaucratic

tyrannies of a Socialist state to the old plutocratic tyrannies of a

Capitalist State. For the vital point is that it did not in the

smallest degree diminish the inequalities of a Capitalist State. It

simply destroyed such individual liberties as remained among its

victims. It did not enable any man to build a better house; it only

limited the houses he might live in--or how he might manage to live

there; forbidding him to keep pigs or poultry or to sell beer or

cider. It did not even add anything to a man's wages; it only took

away something from a man's wages and locked it up, whether he liked

it or not, in a sort of money-box which was regarded as a

medicine-chest. It does not send food into the house to feed the

children; it only sends an inspector into the house to punish the

parents for having no food to feed them. It does not see that they

have got a fire; it only punishes them for not having a fireguard. It

does not even occur to it to provide the fireguard.

Now this anomalous situation will probably ultimately evolve into the

Servile State of Mr. Belloc's thesis. The poor will sink into slavery;

it might as correctly be said that the poor will rise into slavery.

That is to say, sooner or later, it is very probable that the rich

will take over the philanthropic as well as the tyrannic side of the

bargain; and will feed men like slaves as well as hunting them like

outlaws. But for the purpose of my own argument it is not necessary to

carry the process so far as this, or indeed any farther than it has

already gone. The purely negative stage of interference, at which we

have stuck for the present, is in itself quite favourable to all these

eugenical experiments. The capitalist whose half-conscious thought and

course of action I have simplified into a story in the preceding

chapters, finds this insufficient solution quite sufficient for his

purposes. What he has felt for a long time is that he must check or

improve the reckless and random breeding of the submerged race, which

is at once outstripping his requirements and failing to fulfil his

needs. Now the anomalous situation has already accustomed him to

stopping things. The first interferences with sex need only be

negative; and there are already negative interferences without number.

So that the study of this stage of Socialism brings us to the same

conclusion as that of the ideal of liberty as formally professed by

Liberalism. The ideal of liberty is lost, and the ideal of Socialism

is changed, till it is a mere excuse for the oppression of the poor.

The first movements for intervention in the deepest domestic concerns

of the poor all had this note of negative interference. Official

papers were sent round to the mothers in poor streets; papers in which

a total stranger asked these respectable women questions which a man

would be killed for asking, in the class of what were called gentlemen

or in the countries of what were called free men. They were questions

supposed to refer to the conditions of maternity; but the point is

here that the reformers did not begin by building up those economic or

material conditions. They did not attempt to pay money or establish

property to create those conditions. They never give anything--except

orders. Another form of the intervention, and one already mentioned,

is the kidnapping of children upon the most fantastic excuses of sham

psychology. Some people established an apparatus of tests and trick

questions; which might make an amusing game of riddles for the family

fireside, but seems an insufficient reason for mutilating and

dismembering the family. Others became interested in the hopeless

moral condition of children born in the economic condition which they

did not attempt to improve. They were great on the fact that crime was

a disease; and carried on their criminological studies so successfully

as to open the reformatory for little boys who played truant; there

was no reformatory for reformers. I need not pause to explain that

crime is not a disease. It is criminology that is a disease.

Finally one thing may be added which is at least clear. Whether or no

the organisation of industry will issue positively in a eugenical

reconstruction of the family, it has already issued negatively, as in

the negations already noted, in a partial destruction of it. It took

the form of a propaganda of popular divorce, calculated at least to

accustom the masses to a new notion of the shifting and re-grouping of

families. I do not discuss the question of divorce here, as I have

done elsewhere, in its intrinsic character; I merely note it as one of

these negative reforms which have been substituted for positive

economic equality. It was preached with a weird hilarity, as if the

suicide of love were something not only humane but happy. But it need

not be explained, and certainly it need not be denied, that the

harassed poor of a diseased industrialism were indeed maintaining

marriage under every disadvantage, and often found individual relief

in divorce. Industrialism does produce many unhappy marriages, for the

same reason that it produces so many unhappy men. But all the reforms

were directed to rescuing the industrialism rather than the happiness.

Poor couples were to be divorced because they were already divided.

Through all this modern muddle there runs the curious principle of

sacrificing the ancient uses of things because they do not fit in with

the modern abuses. When the tares are found in the wheat, the greatest

promptitude and practicality is always shown in burning the wheat and

gathering the tares into the barn. And since the serpent coiled about

the chalice had dropped his poison in the wine of Cana, analysts were

instantly active in the effort to preserve the poison and to pour away

the wine.

Eugenics and Other Evils · 第 7 / 9 章