But when we come to that particular talent which makes its money out

of the exercise of other people’s talents, the case becomes gravely

different. To allow Cleopatra to make money out of her charms is one

thing: to allow a trader to become enormously rich by engaging five

hundred Cleopatras at ten pounds a week or less, and hiring them

out at ten pounds a day or more, is quite another. We may forgive a

burglar in our admiration of his skill and nerve; but for the fence

who makes money by purchasing the burglar’s booty at a tenth of its

value it is impossible to feel any sympathy. When we come to reputable

women and honest men we find that they are exploited in the same way.

Civilization makes matters worse in this respect, because civilization

means division of labor. Remember the pin makers and pin machines. In a

primitive condition of society the maker of an article saves the money

to buy the materials, selects them, purchases them, and, having made

the article out of these materials, sells it to the user or consumer.

Today the raising of the money to buy the materials is a separate

business; the selection and purchasing is another separate business;

the making is divided between several workers or else done by a machine

tended by a young person; and the marketing is yet another separate

business. Indeed it is much more complicated than that, because the

separate businesses of buying materials and marketing products are

themselves divided into several separate businesses; so that between

the origin of the product in raw material from the hand of Nature

and its final sale across the counter to you there may be dozens of

middlemen, of whom you complain because they each take a toll which

raises the price to you, and it is impossible for you to find out how

many of them are really necessary agents in the process and how many

mere intercepters and parasites.

The same complication is found in that large part of the world’s work

which consists, not in making things, but in service. The woman who

once took the wool that her husband had just shorn from their sheep,

and with her own hands transformed it into a garment and sold it to the

wearer, or clothed her family with it, is now replaced by a financier,

a shipper, a woolbroker, a weaving mill, a wholesaler, a shopkeeper,

a shop assistant, and Heaven knows how many others besides, each able

to do her own bit of the process but ignorant of the other bits, and

unable to do even her own bit until all the others are doing their bits

at the same time. Any one of them without the others would be like an

artillery man without a cannon or a shop assistant with nothing to sell.

Now if you go through all these indispensable parties to any industry

or service, you will come on our question of exceptional ability in

its most pressing and dangerous form. You will find, for instance,

that whereas any ablebodied normal woman can be trained to become a

competent shop assistant, or a shorthand typist and operator of a

calculating machine (arithmetic is done by machines nowadays), or

a factory hand, or a teacher, hardly five out of every hundred can

manage a business or administer an estate or handle a large capital.

The number of persons who can do what they are told is always greatly

in excess of the number who can tell others what to do. If an educated

woman asks for more than four or five pounds a week in business, nobody

asks whether she is a good woman or a bad one: the question is, is

there a post for her in which she will have to make decisions, and if

so, can she be trusted to make them. If the answer is yes, she will be

paid more than a living wage: if not, no.

Even when there is no room for original decisions, and there is nothing

to do but keep other people hard at their allotted work, and maintain

discipline generally, the ability to do this is an exceptional gift

and has a special value. It may be nothing more admirable than the

result of a combination of brute energy with an unamiable indifference

to the feelings of others; but its value is unquestionable: it makes

its possessor a forewoman or foreman in a factory, a wardress in a

prison, a matron in an institution, a sergeant in the army, a mistress

in a school, and the like. Both the managing people and the mere

disciplinarians may be, and often are, heartily detested; but they are

so necessary that any body of ordinary persons left without what they

call superiors, will immediately elect them. A crew of pirates, subject

to no laws except the laws of nature, will elect a boatswain to order

them about and a captain to lead them and navigate the ship, though

the one may be the most insufferable bully and the other the most

tyrannical scoundrel on board. In the revolutionary army of Napoleon

an expeditionary troop of dragoons, commanded by an officer who became

terrified and shammed illness, insisted on the youngest of their

number, a boy of sixteen, taking command, because he was an aristocrat,

and they were accustomed to make aristocrats think for them. He

afterwards became General Marbot: you will find the incident recorded

in his memoirs. Every woman knows that the most strongminded woman in

the house can set up a domestic tyranny which is sometimes a reign of

terror. Without directors most of us would be like riderless horses in

a crowded street. The philosopher Herbert Spencer, though a very clever

man, had the amiable trait in his character of an intense dislike to

coercion. He could not bring himself even to coerce his horse; and the

result was that he had to sell it and go on foot, because the horse,

uncoerced, could do nothing but stop and graze. Tolstoy, equally a

professed humanitarian, tamed and managed the wildest horses; but he

did it by the usual method of making things unpleasant for the horse

until it obeyed him.

However, horses and human beings are alike in that they very seldom

object to be directed: they are usually only too glad to be saved

the trouble of thinking and planning for themselves. Ungovernable

people are the exception and not the rule. When authority is abused

and subordination made humiliating, both are resented; and anything

from a mutiny to a revolution may ensue; but there is no instance on

record of a beneficially and tactfully exercised authority provoking

any reaction. Our mental laziness is a guarantee of our docility:

the mother who says “How dare you go out without asking my leave?”

presently finds herself exclaiming “Why cant you think for yourself

instead of running to me for everything?” But she would be greatly

astonished if a rude motor car manufacturer said to her, “Why cant you

make a car for yourself instead of running to me for it?”

I am myself by profession what is called an original thinker, my

business being to question and test all the established creeds and

codes to see how far they are still valid and how far worn out or

superseded, and even to draft new creeds and codes. But creeds and

codes are only two out of the hundreds of useful articles that make

for a good life. All the other articles I have to take as they are

offered to me on the authority of those who understand them; so that

though many people who cannot bear to have an established creed or

code questioned regard me as a dangerous revolutionary and a most

insubordinate fellow, I have to be in most matters as docile a creature

as you could desire to meet. When a railway porter directs me to

number ten platform I do not strike him to earth with a shout of “Down

with tyranny!” and rush violently to number one platform. I accept

his direction because I want to be directed, and want to get into the

right train. No doubt if the porter bullied and abused me, and I, after

submitting to this, found that my train really started from number

seven platform and that the number ten train landed me in Portsmouth

when my proper destination was Birmingham, I should rise up against

that porter and do what I could to contrive his downfall; but if he

had been reasonably civil and had directed me aright I should rally

to his defence if any attempt were made to depose him. I have to be

housekept-for, nursed, doctored, and generally treated like a child

in all sorts of situations in which I do not know what to do; and far

from resenting such tutelage I am only too glad to avail myself of it.

The first time I was ever in one of those electric lifts which the

passengers work for themselves instead of being taken up and down by a

conductor pulling at a rope, I almost cried, and was immensely relieved

when I stepped out alive.

You may think I am wandering from our point; but I know too well by

experience that there is likely to be at the back of your mind a notion

that it is in our nature to resent authority and subordination as such,

and that only an unpopular and stern coercion can maintain them. Have

I not indeed just been impressing on you that the miseries of the

world today are due in great part to our objection, not merely to bad

government, but to being governed at all? But you must distinguish.

It is true that we dislike being interfered with, and want to do as

we like when we know what to do, or think we know. But when there is

something that obviously must be done, and only five in every hundred

of us know how to do it, then the odd ninetyfive will not merely be

led by the five: they will clamor to be led, and will, if necessary,

kill anyone who obstructs the leaders. That is why it is so easy for

ambitious humbugs to get accepted as leaders. No doubt competent

leadership may be made unpopular by bad manners and pretension to

general superiority; and subordination may be made intolerable by

humiliation. Leaders who produce these results should be ruthlessly

cashiered, no matter how competent they are in other respects, because

they destroy self-respect and happiness, and create a dangerous

resentment complex which reduces the competence and upsets the tempers

of those whom they lead. But you may take it as certain that authority

and subordination in themselves are never unpopular, and can be trusted

to re-establish themselves after the most violent social convulsion.

What is to be feared is less their overthrow than the idolization of

those who exercise authority successfully. Nelson was idolized by his

seamen; Lenin was buried as a saint by revolutionary Russia; Signor

Mussolini is adored in Italy as The Leader (Il Duce); but no anarchist

preaching resistance to authority as such has ever been popular or ever

will be.

Now it is unfortunately one of the worst vices of the Capitalist system

that it destroys the social equality that is indispensable to natural

authority and subordination. The very word subordination, which is

properly co-ordination, betrays this perversion. Under it directing

ability is sold in the market like fish; and, like sturgeon, it is dear

because it is scarce. By paying the director more than the directee

it creates a difference of class between them; and the difference

of class immediately changes a direction or command which naturally

would not only not be resented but desired and begged for, into an

assertion of class superiority which is fiercely resented. “Who are you

that you should order me about? I am as good as you”, is an outburst

that never occurs when Colonel Smith gives an order to Lieutenant the

Duke of Tencounties. But it very often rises to the lips of Mrs Hicks

(though she may leave it unspoken out of natural politeness or fear

of consequences), who lives in a slum, when she receives from Mrs

Huntingdon Howard, who lives in a square, an order, however helpful to

her, given in a manner which emphasizes, and is meant to emphasize, the

lady’s conviction that Mrs Hicks is an inferior sort of animal. And Mrs

Howard sometimes feels, when Lady Billionham refuses to know her, that

Lord Billionham’s rank is but the guinea’s stamp: her man Huntingdon’s

the gowd for a’ that. Nothing would please her better than to take

her super-incomed neighbor down a peg. Whereas if Mrs Hicks and Mrs

Huntingdon Howard and Lady Billionham all had equal incomes, and their

children could intermarry without derogation, they would never dream

of quarrelling because they (or their husbands) could tell oneanother

what to do when they did not know themselves. To be told what to do is

to escape responsibility for its consequences; and those who fear any

dislike of such telling between equals know little of human nature.

The worst of it is that Capitalism produces a class of persons so

degraded by their miserable circumstances that they are incapable of

responding to an order civilly given, and have to be fiercely scolded

or cursed and kicked before any work can be got out of them; and these

poor wretches in turn produce a class of slavedrivers who know no other

methods of maintaining discipline. The only remedy is not to produce

such people. They are abortions produced by poverty, and will disappear

with it.

Reluctance to command is a more serious difficulty. When a couple of

soldiers are sent on any duty one of them must be made a corporal for

the occasion, as there must be someone to make the decisions and be

responsible for them. Usually both men object: each trying to shove the

burden on to the other. When they differ in this respect the Platonic

rule is to choose the reluctant man, as the probability is that the

ambitious one is a conceited fool who does not feel the responsibility

because he does not understand it. This kind of reluctance cannot be

overcome by extra pay. It may be overcome by simple coercion, as in

the case of common jurors. If you are a direct ratepayer you may find

yourself at any moment summoned to serve on a jury and make decisions

involving the disgrace or vindication, the imprisonment or freedom,

the life or death of your fellowcreatures, as well as to maintain the

rights of the jury against the continual tendency of the Bench to

dictate its decisions. You are not paid to do this: you are forced to

do it, just as men were formerly pressed into the navy or forced to sit

in Parliament against their will and that of their constituents.

But though in the last resort coercion remains available as a means of

compelling citizens to undertake duties from which they shrink, it is

found in practice that fitness for special kinds of work carries with

it a desire to exercise it, even at serious material disadvantages.

Mozart could have made much more money as a valet than he did as the

greatest composer of his time, and indeed one of the greatest composers

of all time; nevertheless he chose to be a composer and not a valet.

He knew that he would be a bad valet, and believed that he could be

a good composer; and this outweighed all money considerations with

him. When Napoleon was a subaltern he was by no means a success. When

Nelson was a captain he was found so unsatisfactory that he was left

without a ship on half pay for several years. But Napoleon was a great

general and Nelson a great admiral; and I have not the smallest doubt,

nor probably have you, that if Napoleon and Nelson had been forced to

choose between being respectively a drummer boy and a cabin boy and

being a general and an admiral for the same money, they would have

chosen the job in which their genius had full scope. They would even

have accepted less money if they could have secured their proper job

in no other way. Have we not already noted, in Chapter 6, how the

capitalist system leaves men of extraordinary and beneficent talent,

poor whilst making nonentities and greedy money hunters absurdly rich?

Let us therefore dismiss the fear that persons of exceptional ability

need special inducements to exercise that ability to the utmost.

Experience proves that even the most severe discouragements and

punishments cannot restrain them from trying to do so. Let us return to

the real social problem: that of preventing them from taking advantage

of the vital necessity and relative scarcity of certain kinds of

ability to extort excessive incomes.

In socialized services no difficulty arises. The civil servant, the

judge, the navy captain, the field marshal, the archbishop, however

extraordinary able, gets no more than any routineer of his rank and

seniority. A real gentleman is not supposed to sell himself to the

highest bidder: he asks his country for a sufficient provision and a

dignified position in return for the best work he can do for it. A

real lady can say no less. But in capitalist commerce they are both

forced to be cads: that is, to hold up to ransom those to whom their

services are indispensable, and become rich at their expense. The mere

disciplinarian cannot extort very much because disciplinarians of one

sort or another are not very scarce. But the organizer and financier

is in a strong position. The owner of a big business, if his employees

ask for anything more than a subsistence wage as their share of its

product, can always say “Well, if you are not satisfied, take the

business and work it yourself without me”. This they are unable to do.

The Trade Union to which his employees belong may be tempted to take

him at his word; but it soon finds itself unable to carry on, that sort

of management not being its job. He says in effect, and often in so

many words, “You cannot do without me; so you must work on my terms”.

They reply with perfect truth “Neither can you do without us: let us

see you organize without any workers to organize”. But he beats them;

and the reason is not that he can do without them any more than they

can do without him (or her), but that his bargain for the use of his

ability is not really made with them but with the landlords whose land

he is using and the capitalists who have lent him the capital for his

enterprise. It is to them that he can say unanswerably “You cannot

do without me”. They may say “Yes we can. We can tell the workers

that unless they give up everything they can make out of our land

and capital to us except what is enough to keep them alive and renew

themselves from generation to generation they shall starve; because

they cannot produce without land and capital, and we own all there

is available of both”. “That is true” retorts the able organizer and

financier; “but please to remember that without an elaborate scientific

organization of their labor they can produce no more than a mob of

allotment holders, or of serfs on a tenth century manor, whereas if

I organize them for you industrially and financially I can multiply

their product a thousandfold. Even if you have to pay me a large

share of the increase due to my ability you are still far richer than

if you did without me.” And to this there is no reply. In this way

there arises under Capitalism not only a rent of land and a rent of

capital (called interest), but a rent of ability (called profit); and

just as in order to secure equality of income it becomes necessary to

nationalize land and capital, so it becomes necessary to nationalize

ability. We already do this in part by taxing profits. But we do it

completely only when, as in the public services, we give it direct

national or municipal employment.

Note that rent of ability is a form of rent of labor. Rent is a word

that it is very necessary to understand, and that very few people

do understand: they think it is only what they have to pay to their

landlord. But technically rent is a price that arises whenever there

are differences in the yield of any particular source of wealth. When

there is a natural difference between the yield of one field and

another, or one coal-mine and another, or between the advantages of

one building site and another, people will pay more for the better

than for the worse; and that extra price is rent. Similarly, when

there is a difference between the business ability of one person and

another, the price of that difference is rent. You cannot abolish

rent, because you cannot abolish the natural difference between one

cornfield and another, one coal-field and another, or one person and

another; but you can nationalize it by nationalizing the land, the

mines, and the labor of the country either directly or by national

appropriation of their product by taxation, as to which latter method,

as we have seen, there are limits. Until this is done, rent of ability

in profiteering will make its possessors rich enough to make their

children idle landlords and capitalists and destroy economic equality.

Great astronomers, chemists, mathematicians, physicists, philosophers,

explorers, discoverers, teachers, preachers, sociologists, and saints

may be so poor that their wives are worn-out in a constant struggle

to keep up appearances and make both ends meet; but the business

organizers pile millions on millions whilst their unfortunate daughters

carry about diamonds and sables to advertize their parent’s riches,

and drink cocktails until they feel so bad inside that they pay large

sums to surgeons to cut them open and find out what is the matter with

them. If you reproach these organizers for their inordinate gains, they

tell you--or they would tell you if they understood their own position

and could express it intelligibly--that every penny they make is made

by making money for other people as well; that before they can spend

a farthing on themselves they must provide rent for the landlord,

interest for the capitalist, and wages for the proletarian on a scale

that would be impossible without them; and that England can support

five times the number of people she could a hundred years ago because

her industries are better organized and more amply financed by them

and their like. This is true; but you need not be abashed by it; for

which of us has not to provide rent for the landlord, interest for the

capitalist, and wages for the laborer before we can spend a penny on

ourselves? And why should the organizer and financier be paid more for

the exercise of his particular faculty than we who have to co-operate

with him by the exercise of our particular faculties before he can

produce a loaf of bread or a glass of milk? It is not natural necessity

but the capitalist system that enables him to snatch more than his

fellow workers from the welter of competitive commerce; and while this

lasts we shall have the financier’s daughter saying to the scavenger’s

daughter “What would your common dirty father do without my father, who

is going to be made a lord?” and the scavenger’s daughter retorting

“What would your greedy robber of a father do if my father did not keep

the streets clean for him?” Of course you have never heard a lady or

a young person talk like that. And probably you never will. They are

too polite and too thoughtless to discuss their father’s positions.

Besides, they never speak to oneanother. But if they did, and anything

upset their tempers, their last words before they came to blows would

be just those which I have imagined. If you doubt it, read what the

capitalist papers say about Trade Unionists and Socialists, and what

the proletarian papers say about landlords and capitalists and bosses.

Do you suppose that the charwoman, who has worked in her own necessary

way all her life as hard as or harder than any financier, and in the

end has nothing to leave to her daughter but her pail and scrubbing

brush, really believes, or ever will believe, that Lady Billionham,

inheriting a colossal income from her father the financier, has any

moral right to her money? Or, if your father had discovered and worked

out the theory of relativity, and was acknowledged throughout the

world to have the greatest mind since Newton’s, would you consider it

morally satisfactory to be obliged to jump at an offer of marriage from

a Chicago pork king to enable your illustrious parent to have more

than one presentable suit of clothes, knowing all the time that if

it had not been for the work of men like your father in pure science

not a wheel in the whole vast machinery of modern production would

be turning, nor a bagman be able to travel faster than Marco Polo?

Privately appropriated rent, whether of land, capital, or ability,

makes bad blood; and it is of bad blood that civilizations die. That

it is why it is our urgent business to see that Lord Billionham gets

no more than Einstein, and neither of them more than the charwoman.

You cannot equalize their abilities, but fortunately you can equalize

their incomes. Billionham’s half-crown is as good as Einstein’s

two-and-sixpence; and the charwoman’s thirty pennies will buy as much

bread as either. Equalize them in that respect, and their sons and

daughters will be intermarriageable, which will be a very good thing

for them, and lead to an enormous improvement of our human stock, the

quality of which is the most important thing in the world.

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The intelligent woman's guide to socialism and capitalism · 第 36 / 52 段