FOOD
I
If the coming Revolution is to be a Social Revolution, it will be
distinguished from all former uprisings not only by its aim, but also by
its methods. To attain a new end, new means are required.
The three great popular movements which we have seen in France during
the last hundred years differ from each other in many ways, but they
have one common feature.
In each case the people strove to overturn the old regime, and spent
their heart's blood for the cause. Then, after having borne the brunt of
the battle, they sank again into obscurity. A Government, composed of
men more or less honest, was formed and undertook to organize a new
regime: the Republic in 1793, Labour in 1848, the Free Commune in 1871.
Imbued with Jacobin ideas, this Government occupied itself first of all
with political questions, such as the reorganization of the machinery of
government, the purifying of the administration, the separation of
Church and State, civic liberty, and such matters. It is true the
workmen's clubs kept an eye on the members of the new Government, and
often imposed their ideas on them. But even in these clubs, whether the
leaders belonged to the middle or the working classes, it was always
middle-class ideas which prevailed. They discussed various political
questions at great length, but forgot to discuss the question of bread.
Great ideas sprang up at such times, ideas that have moved the world;
words were spoken which still stir our hearts, at the interval of more
than a century. But the people were starving in the slums.
From the very Commencement of the Revolution industry inevitably came to
a stop--the circulation of produce was checked, and capital concealed
itself. The master--the employer--had nothing to fear at such times, he
fattened on his dividends, if indeed he did not speculate on the
wretchedness around; but the wage-earner was reduced to live from hand
to mouth. Want knocked at the door.
Famine was abroad in the land--such famine as had hardly been seen under
the old regime.
"The Girondists are starving us!" was the cry in the workmen's quarters
in 1793, and thereupon the Girondists were guillotined, and full powers
were given to "the Mountain" and to the Commune. The Commune indeed
concerned itself with the question of bread, and made heroic efforts to
feed Paris. At Lyons, Fouché and Collot d'Herbois established city
granaries, but the sums spent on filling them were woefully
insufficient. The town councils made great efforts to procure corn; the
bakers who hoarded flour were hanged--and still the people lacked bread.
Then they turned on the royalist conspirators and laid the blame at
their door. They guillotined a dozen or fifteen a day--servants and
duchesses alike, especially servants, for the duchesses had gone to
Coblentz. But if they had guillotined a hundred dukes and viscounts
every day, it would have been equally hopeless.
The want only grew. For the wage-earner cannot live without his wage,
and the wage was not forthcoming. What difference could a thousand
corpses more or less make to him?
Then the people began to grow weary. "So much for your vaunted
Revolution! You are more wretched than ever before," whispered the
reactionary in the ears of the worker. And little by little the rich
took courage, emerged from their hiding-places, and flaunted their
luxury in the face of the starving multitude. They dressed up like
scented fops and said to the workers: "Come, enough of this foolery!
What have you gained by your Revolution?"
And, sick at heart, his patience at an end, the revolutionary had at
last to admit to himself that the cause was lost once more. He retreated
into his hovel and awaited the worst.
Then reaction proudly asserted itself, and accomplished a
counter-revolutionary stroke. The Revolution dead, nothing remained but
to trample its corpse under foot.
The White Terror began. Blood flowed like water, the guillotine was
never idle, the prisons were crowded, while the pageant of rank and
fashion resumed its old course, and went on as merrily as before.
This picture is typical of all our revolutions. In 1848 the workers of
Paris placed "three months of starvation" at the service of the
Republic, and then, having reached the limit of their powers, they made,
in June, one last desperate effort--an effort which was drowned in
blood. In 1871 the Commune perished for lack of combatants. It had taken
measures for the separation of Church and State, but it neglected, alas,
until too late, to take measures for providing the people with bread.
And so it came to pass in Paris that _élégantes_ and fine gentlemen
could spurn the confederates, and bid them go sell their lives for a
miserable pittance, and leave their "betters" to feast at their ease in
fashionable restaurants.
At last the Commune saw its mistake, and opened communal kitchens. But
it was too late. Its days were already numbered, and the troops of
Versailles were on the ramparts.
"Bread, it is bread that the Revolution needs!"
Let others spend their time in issuing pompous proclamations, in
decorating themselves lavishly with official gold lace, and in talking
about political liberty!...
Be it ours to see, from the first day of the Revolution to the last, in
all the provinces fighting for freedom, that there is not a single man
who lacks bread, not a single woman compelled to stand with the wearied
crowd outside the bakehouse-door, that haply a coarse loaf may be
thrown to her in charity, not a single child pining for want of food.
It has always been the middle-class idea to harangue about "great
principles"--great lies rather!
The idea of the people will be to provide bread for all. And while
middle-class citizens, and workmen infested with middle-class ideas
admire their own rhetoric in the "Talking Shops," and "practical people"
are engaged in endless discussions on forms of government, we, the
"Utopian dreamers"--we shall have to consider the question of daily
bread.
We have the temerity to declare that all have a right to bread, that
there is bread enough for all, and that with this watchword of _Bread
for All_ the Revolution will triumph.
II
That we are Utopians is well known. So Utopian are we that we go the
length of believing that the Revolution can and ought to assure shelter,
food, and clothes to all--an idea extremely displeasing to middle-class
citizens, whatever their party colour, for they are quite alive to the
fact that it is not easy to keep the upper hand of a people whose hunger
is satisfied.
All the same, we maintain our contention: bread must be found for the
people of the Revolution, and the question of bread must take precedence
of all other questions. If it is settled in the interests of the people,
the Revolution will be on the right road; for in solving the question of
Bread we must accept the principle of equality, which will force itself
upon us to the exclusion of every other solution.
It is certain that the coming Revolution--like in that respect to the
Revolution of 1848--will burst upon us in the middle of a great
industrial crisis. Things have been seething for half a century now, and
can only go from bad to worse. Everything tends that way--new nations
entering the lists of international trade and fighting for possession
of the world's markets, wars, taxes ever increasing. National debts,
the insecurity of the morrow, and huge colonial undertakings in every
corner of the globe.
There are millions of unemployed workers in Europe at this moment. It
will be still worse when Revolution has burst upon us and spread like
fire laid to a train of gunpowder. The number of the out-of-works will
be doubled as soon as the barricades are erected in Europe and the
United States. What is to be done to provide these multitudes with
bread?
We do not know whether the folk who call themselves "practical people"
have ever asked themselves this question in all its nakedness. But we do
know that they wish to maintain the wage system, and we must therefore
expect to have "national workshops" and "public works" vaunted as a
means of giving food to the unemployed.
Because national workshops were opened in 1789 and 1793; because the
same means were resorted to in 1848; because Napoleon III. succeeded in
contenting the Parisian proletariat for eighteen years by giving them
public works--which cost Paris to-day its debt of £80,000,000 and its
municipal tax of three or four pounds a-head;[3] because this excellent
method of "taming the beast" was customary in Rome, and even in Egypt
four thousand years ago; and lastly, because despots, kings, and
emperors have always employed the ruse of throwing a scrap of food to
the people to gain time to snatch up the whip--it is natural that
"practical" men should extol this method of perpetuating the wage
system. What need to rack our brains when we have the time-honoured
method of the Pharaohs at our disposal?
Yet should the Revolution be so misguided as to start on this path, it
would be lost.
In 1848, when the national workshops were opened on February 27, the
unemployed of Paris numbered only 8,000; a fortnight later they had
already increased to 49,000. They would soon have been 100,000, without
counting those who crowded in from the provinces.
Yet at that time trade and manufacturers in France employed half as many
hands as to-day. And we know that in time of Revolution exchange and
industry suffer most from the general upheaval. We have only to think,
indeed, of the number of workmen whose labour depends directly or
indirectly upon export trade, or of the number of hands employed in
producing luxuries, whose consumers are the middle-class minority.
A revolution in Europe means, then, the unavoidable stoppage of at least
half the factories and workshops. It means millions of workers and their
families thrown on the streets. And our "practical men" would seek to
avert this truly terrible situation by means of national relief works;
that is to say, by means of new industries created on the spot to give
work to the unemployed!
It is evident, as Proudhon had already pointed out more than fifty years
ago, that the smallest attack upon property will bring in its train the
complete disorganization of the system based upon private enterprise and
wage labour. Society itself will be forced to take production in hand,
in its entirety, and to reorganize it to meet the needs of the whole
people. But this cannot be accomplished in a day, or even in a month; it
must take a certain time to reorganize the system of production, and
during this time millions of men will be deprived of the means of
subsistence. What then is to be done?
There is only one really _practical_ solution of the problem--boldly to
face the great task which awaits us, and instead of trying to patch up a
situation which we ourselves have made untenable, to proceed to
reorganize production on a new basis.
Thus the really practical course of action, in our view, would be that
the people should take immediate possession of all the food of the
insurgent communes, keeping strict account of it all, that none might be
wasted, and that by the aid of these accumulated resources every one
might be able to tide over the crisis. During that time an agreement
would have to be made with the factory workers, the necessary raw
material given them, and the means of subsistence assured to them, while
they worked to supply the needs of the agricultural population. For we
must not forget that while France weaves silks and satins to deck the
wives of German financiers, the Empress of Russia, and the Queen of the
Sandwich Islands, and while Paris fashions wonderful trinkets and
playthings for rich folk all the world over, two-thirds of the French
peasantry have not proper lamps to give them light, or the implements
necessary for modern agriculture. Lastly, unproductive land, of which
there is plenty, would have to be turned to the best advantage, poor
soils enriched, and rich soils, which yet, under the present system, do
not yield a quarter, no, nor a tenth of what they might produce, would
be submitted to intensive culture, and tilled with as much care as a
market garden or a flower pot. It is impossible to imagine any other
practical solution of the problem; and, whether we like it or not, sheer
force of circumstances will bring it to pass.
III
The most prominent characteristic of our present capitalism is _the wage
system_, which in brief amounts to this:--
A man, or a group of men, possessing the necessary capital, starts some
industrial enterprise; he undertakes to supply the factory or workshops
with raw material, to organize production, to pay the employes a fixed
wage, and lastly, to pocket the surplus value or profits, under pretext
of recouping himself for managing the concern, for running the risks it
may involve, and for the fluctuations of price in the market value of
the wares.
To preserve this system, those who now monopolize capital would be ready
to make certain concessions; to share, for example, a part of the
profits with the workers, or rather to establish a "sliding scale,"
which would oblige them to raise wages when prices were high; in brief
they would consent to certain sacrifices on condition that they were
still allowed to direct industry and to take its first fruits.
Collectivism, as we know, does not abolish the wage system, though it
introduces considerable modifications into the existing order of things.
It only substitutes the State, that is to say, some form of
Representative Government, national or local, for the individual
employer of labour. Under Collectivism it is the representatives of the
nation, or of the Commune, and their deputies and officials who are to
have the control of industry. It is they who reserve to themselves the
right of employing the surplus of production--in the interests of all.
Moreover, Collectivism draws a very subtle but very far-reaching
distinction between the work of the labourer and of the man who has
learned a craft. Unskilled labour in the eyes of the collectivist is
_simple_ labour, while the work of the craftsman, the mechanic, the
engineer, the man of science, etc., is what Marx calls _complex_ labour,
and is entitled to a higher wage. But labourers and craftsmen, weavers
and men of science, are all wage-servants of the State--"all officials,"
as was said lately, to gild the pill.
Well, then, the coming Revolution could render no greater service to
humanity than by making the wage system, in all its forms, an
impossibility, and by rendering Communism, which is the negation of
wage-slavery, the only possible solution.
For even admitting that the Collectivist modification of the present
system is possible, if introduced gradually during a period of
prosperity and peace--though for my part I question its practicability
even under such conditions--it would become impossible in a period of
Revolution, when the need of feeding hungry millions would spring up
with the first call to arms. A political revolution can be accomplished
without shaking the foundations of industry, but a revolution where the
people lay hands upon property will inevitably paralyse exchange and
production. The millions of public money flowing into the Treasury
would not suffice for paying wages to the millions of out-of-works.
This point cannot be too much insisted upon; the reorganization of
industry on a new basis (and we shall presently show how tremendous this
problem is) cannot be accomplished in a few days; nor, on the other
hand, will the people submit to be half starved for years in order to
oblige the theorists who uphold the wage system. To tide over the period
of stress they will demand what they have always demanded in such
cases--communization of supplies--the giving of rations.
It will be in vain to preach patience. The people will be patient no
longer, and if food is not forthcoming they will plunder the bakeries.
Then, if the people are not strong enough to carry all before them, they
will be shot down, to give Collectivism a fair field for experiment. To
this end "_order_" must be maintained at any price--order, discipline,
obedience! And as the capitalists will soon realize that when the people
are shot down by those who call themselves Revolutionists, the
Revolution itself will become hateful in the eyes of the masses, they
will certainly lend their support to the champions of _order_--even
though they are collectivists. In such a line of conduct, the
capitalists will see a means of hereafter crushing the collectivists in
their turn. And if "order is established" in this fashion, the
consequences are easy to foresee. Not content with shooting down the
"marauders," the faction of "order" will search out the "ringleaders of
the mob." They will set up again the law courts and reinstate the
hangman. The most ardent revolutionists will be sent to the scaffold. It
will be 1793 over again.
Do not let us forget how reaction triumphed in the last century. First
the "Hébertists" and "the madmen," were guillotined--those whom Mignet,
with the memory of the struggle fresh upon him, still called
"Anarchists." The Dantonists soon followed them; and when the party of
Robespierre had guillotined these revolutionaries, they in their turn
had to mount the scaffold; whereupon the people, sick of bloodshed, and
seeing the revolution lost, threw up the sponge, and let the
reactionaries do their worst.
If "order is restored," we say, the social democrats will hang the
anarchists; the Fabians will hang the social democrats, and will in
their turn be hanged by the reactionaries; and the Revolution will come
to an end.
But everything confirms us in the belief that the energy of the people
will carry them far enough, and that, when the Revolution takes place,
the idea of anarchist Communism will have gained ground. It is not an
artificial idea. The people themselves have breathed it in our ear, and
the number of communists is ever increasing, as the impossibility of any
other solution becomes more and more evident.
And if the impetus of the people is strong enough, affairs will take a
very different turn. Instead of plundering the bakers' shops one day,
and starving the next, the people of the insurgent cities will take
possession of the warehouses, the cattle markets,--in fact of all the
provision stores and of all the food to be had. The well-intentioned
citizens, men and women both, will form themselves into bands of
volunteers and address themselves to the task of making a rough general
inventory of the contents of each shop and warehouse.
If such a revolution breaks out in France, namely in Paris, then in
twenty-four hours the Commune will know what Paris has not found out
yet, in spite of its statistical committees, and what it never did find
out during the siege of 1871--the quantity of provisions it contains. In
forty-eight hours millions of copies will be printed of the tables
giving a sufficiently exact account of the available food, the places
where it is stored, and the means of distribution.
In every block of houses, in every street, in every town ward, groups of
volunteers will have been organized, and these commissariat volunteers
will find it easy to work in unison and keep in touch with each other.
If only the Jacobin bayonets do not get in the way; if only the
self-styled "scientific" theorists do not thrust themselves in to
darken counsel! Or rather let them expound their muddle-headed theories
as much as they like, provided they have no authority, no power! And
that admirable spirit of organization inherent in the people, above all
in every social grade of the French nation, but which they have so
seldom been allowed to exercise, will initiate, even in so huge a city
as Paris, and in the midst of a Revolution, an immense guild of free
workers, ready to furnish to each and all the necessary food.
Give the people a free hand, and in ten days the food service will be
conducted with admirable regularity. Only those who have never seen the
people hard at work, only those who have passed their lives buried among
the documents, can doubt it. Speak of the organizing genius of the
"Great Misunderstood," the people, to those who have seen it in Paris in
the days of the barricades, or in London during the great dockers'
strike, when half a million of starving folk had to be fed, and they
will tell you how superior it is to the official ineptness of Bumbledom.
And even supposing we had to endure a certain amount of discomfort and
confusion for a fortnight or a month, surely that would not matter very
much. For the mass of the people it would still be an improvement on
their former condition; and, besides, in times of Revolution one can
dine contentedly enough on a bit of bread and cheese while eagerly
discussing events.
In any case, a system which springs up spontaneously, under stress of
immediate need, will be infinitely preferable to anything invented
between four walls by hide-bound theorists sitting on any number of
committees.
IV
The people of the great towns will be driven by force of circumstances
to take possession of all the provisions, beginning with the barest
necessaries, and gradually extending Communism to other things, in order
to satisfy the needs of all the citizens. The sooner it is done the
better; the sooner it is done the less misery there will be and the less
strife.
But upon what basis must society be organized in order that all may have
their due share of food produce? This is the question that meets us at
the outset.
We answer that there are no two ways of it. There is only one way in
which Communism can be established equitably, only one way which
satisfies our instincts of justice and is at the same time practical;
namely, the system already adopted by the agrarian communes of Europe.
Take for example a peasant commune, no matter where, even in France,
where the Jacobins have done their best to destroy all communal usage.
If the commune possesses woods and copses, then, so long as there is
plenty of wood for all, every one can take as much as he wants, without
other let or hindrance than the public opinion of his neighbours. As to
the timber-trees, which are always scarce, they have to be carefully
apportioned.
The same with the communal pasture land; while there is enough and to
spare, no limit is put to what the cattle of each homestead may consume,
nor to the number of beasts grazing upon the pastures. Grazing grounds
are not divided, nor is fodder doled out, unless there is scarcity. All
the Swiss communes, and scores of thousands in France and Germany,
wherever there is communal pasture land, practise this system.
And in the countries of Eastern Europe, where there are great forests
and no scarcity of land, you will find the peasants felling the trees as
they need them, and cultivating as much of the soil as they require,
without any thought of limiting each man's share of timber or of land.
But the timber will be allowanced, and the land parcelled out, to each
household according to its needs, as soon as either becomes scarce, as
is already the case in Russia.
In a word, the system is this: no stint or limit to what the community
possesses in abundance, but equal sharing and dividing of those
commodities which are scarce or apt to run short. Of the 350 millions
who inhabit Europe, 200 millions still follow this system of natural
Communism.
It is a fact worth remarking that the same system prevails in the great
towns in the distribution of one commodity at least, which is found in
abundance, the water supplied to each house.
As long as there is no fear of the supply running short, no water
company thinks of checking the consumption of water in each house. Take
what you please! But during the great droughts, if there is any fear of
the supply failing, the water companies know that all they have to do is
to make known the fact, by means of a short advertisement in the papers,
and the citizens will reduce their consumption of water and not let it
run to waste.
But if water were actually scarce, what would be done? Recourse would be
had to a system of rations. Such a measure is so natural, so inherent in
common sense, that Paris twice asked to be put on rations during the two
sieges which it underwent in 1871.
Is it necessary to go into details, to prepare tables, showing how the
distribution of rations may work, to prove that it is just and
equitable, infinitely more just and equitable than the existing state of
things? All these tables and details will not serve to convince those of
the middle classes, nor, alas, those of the workers tainted with
middle-class prejudices, who regard the people as a mob of savages ready
to fall upon and devour each other, as soon as the Government ceases to
direct affairs. But those only who have never seen the people resolve
and act on their own initiative could doubt for a moment that if the
masses were masters of the situation, they would distribute rations to
each and all in strictest accordance with justice and equity.
If you were to give utterance, in any gathering of people, to the
opinion that delicacies--game and such-like--should be reserved for the
fastidious palates of aristocratic idlers, and black bread given to the
sick in the hospitals, you would be hissed. But say at the same
gathering, preach at the street corners and in the market places, that
the most tempting delicacies ought to be kept for the sick and
feeble--especially for the sick. Say that if there are only five brace
of partridge in the entire city, and only one case of sherry, they
should go to sick people and convalescents. Say that after the sick come
the children. For them the milk of the cows and goats should be reserved
if there is not enough for all. To the children and the aged the last
piece of meat, and to the strong man dry bread, if the community be
reduced to that extremity.
Say, in a word, that if this or that article of consumption runs short,
and has to be doled out, to those who have most need most should be
given. Say that and see if you do not meet with universal agreement.
The man who is full-fed does not understand this, but the people do
understand, and have always understood it; and even the child of luxury,
if he is thrown on the street and comes into contact with the masses,
even he will learn to understand.
The theorists--for whom the soldier's uniform and the barrack mess table
are civilization's last word--would like no doubt to start a regime of
National Kitchens and "Spartan Broth." They would point out the
advantages thereby gained, the economy in fuel and food, if such huge
kitchens were established, where every one could come for their rations
of soup and bread and vegetables.
We do not question these advantages. We are well aware that important
economies have already been achieved in this direction--as, for
instance, when the handmill, or quern, and the baker's oven attached to
each house were abandoned. We can see perfectly well that it would be
more economical to cook broth for a hundred families at once, instead of
lighting a hundred separate fires. We know, besides, that there are a
thousand ways of preparing potatoes, but that cooked in one huge pot for
a hundred families they would be just as good.
We know, in fact, that variety in cooking being a matter of the
seasoning introduced by each cook or housewife, the cooking together of
a hundredweight of potatoes would not prevent each cook or housewife
from dressing and serving them in any way she pleased. And we know that
stock made from meat can be converted into a hundred different soups to
suit a hundred different tastes.
But though we are quite aware of all these facts, we still maintain that
no one has a right to force a housewife to take her potatoes from the
communal kitchen ready cooked if she prefers to cook them herself in her
own pot on her own fire. And, above all, we should wish each one to be
free to take his meals with his family, or with his friends, or even in
a restaurant, if it seemed good to him.
Naturally large public kitchens will spring up to take the place of the
restaurants, where people are poisoned nowadays. Already the Parisian
housewife gets the stock for her soup from the butcher, and transforms
it into whatever soup she likes, and London housekeepers know that they
can have a joint roasted, or an apple or rhubarb tart baked at the
baker's for a trifling sum, thus economizing time and fuel. And when the
communal kitchen--the common bakehouse of the future--is established,
and people can get their food cooked without the risk of being cheated
or poisoned, the custom will no doubt become general of going to the
communal kitchen for the fundamental parts of the meal, leaving the last
touches to be added as individual taste shall suggest.
But to make a hard and fast rule of this, to make a duty of taking home
our food ready cooked, that would be as repugnant to our modern minds as
the ideas of the convent or the barrack--morbid ideas born in brains
warped by tyranny or superstition.
Who will have a right to the food of the commune? will assuredly be the
first question which we shall have to ask ourselves. Every township will
answer for itself, and we are convinced that the answers will all be
dictated by the sentiment of justice. Until labour is reorganized, as
long as the disturbed period lasts, and while it is impossible to
distinguish between inveterate idlers and genuine workers thrown out of
work, the available food ought to be shared by all without exception.
Those who have been enemies to the new order will hasten of their own
accord to rid the commune of their presence. But it seems to us that the
masses of the people, which have always been magnanimous, and have
nothing of vindictiveness in their disposition, will be ready to share
their bread with all who remain with them, conquered and conquerers
alike. It will be no loss to the Revolution to be inspired by such an
idea, and, when work is set agoing again, the antagonists of yesterday
will stand side by side in the same workshops. A society where work is
free will have nothing to fear from idlers.
"But provisions will run short in a month!" our critics at once exclaim.
"So much the better," say we. It will prove that for the first time on
record the people have had enough to eat. As to the question of
obtaining fresh supplies, we shall discuss the means in our next
chapter.
V
By what means could a city in a state of revolution be supplied with
food? We shall answer this question, but it is obvious that the means
resorted to will depend on the character of the Revolution in the
provinces, and in neighbouring countries. If the entire nation, or,
better still, if all Europe should accomplish the Social Revolution
simultaneously, and start with thorough-going Communism, our procedure
would be simplified; but if only a few communities in Europe make the
attempt, other means will have to be chosen. The circumstances will
dictate the measures.
We are thus led, before we proceed further, to glance at the State of
Europe, and, without pretending to prophesy, we may try to foresee what
course the Revolution will take, or at least what will be its essential
features.
Certainly it would be very desirable that all Europe should rise at
once, that expropriation should be general, and that communistic
principles should inspire all and sundry. Such a universal rising would
do much to simplify the task of our century.
But all the signs lead us to believe that it will not take place. That
the Revolution will embrace Europe we do not doubt. If one of the four
great continental capitals--Paris, Vienna, Brussels, or Berlin--rises in
revolution and overturns its Government, it is almost certain that the
three others will follow its example within a few weeks' time. It is,
moreover, highly probable that the Peninsulas and even London and St.
Petersburg would not be long in following suit. But whether the
Revolution would everywhere exhibit the same characteristics is highly
doubtful.
It is more than probable that expropriation will be everywhere carried
into effect on a larger scale, and that this policy carried out by any
one of the great nations of Europe will influence all the rest; yet the
beginnings of the Revolution will exhibit great local differences, and
its course will vary in different countries. In 1789-93, the French
peasantry took four years to finally rid themselves of the redemption of
feudal rights, and the bourgeois to overthrow royalty. Let us keep that
in mind, and therefore be prepared to see the Revolution develop itself
somewhat gradually. Let us not be disheartened if here and there its
steps should move less rapidly. Whether it would take an avowedly
socialist character in all European nations, at any rate at the
beginning, is doubtful. Germany, be it remembered, is still realizing
its dream of a United Empire. Its advanced parties see visions of a
Jacobin Republic like that of 1848, and of the organization of labour
according to Louis Blanc; while the French people, on the other hand,
want above all things a free Commune, whether it be a communist Commune
or not.
There is every reason to believe that, when the coming Revolution takes
place, Germany will go further than France went in 1793. The
eighteenth-century Revolution in France was an advance on the English
Revolution of the seventeenth, abolishing as it did at one stroke the
power of the throne and the landed aristocracy, whose influence still
survives in England. But, if Germany goes further and does greater
things than France did in 1793, there can be no doubt that the ideas
which will foster the birth of her Revolution will be those of 1848;
while the ideas which will inspire the Revolution in Russia will
probably be a combination of those of 1789 with those of 1848.
Without, however, attaching to these forecasts a greater importance than
they merit, we may safely conclude this much: the Revolution will take a
different character in each of the different European nations; the point
attained in the socialization of wealth will not be everywhere the same.
Will it therefore be necessary, as is sometimes suggested, that the
nations in the vanguard of the movement should adapt their pace to those
who lag behind? Must we wait till the Communist Revolution is ripe in
all civilized countries? Clearly not! Even if it were a thing to be
desired, it is not possible. History does not wait for the laggards.
Besides, we do not believe that in any one country the Revolution will
be accomplished at a stroke, in the twinkling of an eye, as some
socialists dream.[4] It is highly probable that if one of the five or
six large towns of France--Paris, Lyons, Marseilles, Lille,
Saint-Etienne, Bordeaux--were to proclaim the Commune, the others would
follow its example, and that many smaller towns would do the same.
Probably also various mining districts and industrial centres would
hasten to rid themselves of "owners" and "masters," and form themselves
into free groups.
But many country places have not advanced to that point. Side by side
with the revolutionized communes such places would remain in an
expectant attitude, and would go on living on the Individualist system.
Undisturbed by visits of the bailiff or the tax-collector, the peasants
would not be hostile to the revolutionaries, and thus, while profiting
by the new state of affairs, they would defer the settlement of accounts
with the local exploiters. But with that practical enthusiasm which
always characterizes agrarian uprisings (witness the passionate toil of
1792) they would throw themselves into the task of cultivating the land,
which, freed from taxes and mortgages, would become so much dearer to
them.
As to other countries, revolution would break out everywhere, but
revolution under divers aspects; in one country State Socialism, in
another Federation; everywhere more or less Socialism, not conforming to
any particular rule.
VI
Let us now return to our city in revolt, and consider how its citizens
can provide foodstuffs for themselves. How are the necessary provisions
to be obtained if the nation as a whole has not accepted Communism? This
is the question to be solved. Take, for example, one of the large French
towns--take the capital itself, for that matter. Paris consumes every
year thousands of tons of grain, 400,000 head of oxen, 300,000 calves,
400,000 swine, and more than two millions of sheep, besides great
quantities of game. This huge city devours, besides, more than 20
million pounds of butter, 200 million eggs, and other produce in like
proportion.
It imports flour and grain from the United States and from Russia,
Hungary, Italy, Egypt, and the Indies; live stock from Germany, Italy,
Spain--even Roumania and Russia; and as for groceries, there is not a
country in the world that it does not lay under contribution.
Now, let us see how Paris or any other great town could be revictualled
by home-grown produce, supplies of which could be readily and willingly
sent in from the provinces.
To those who put their trust in "authority" the question will appear
quite simple. They would begin by establishing a strongly centralized
Government, furnished with all the machinery of coercion--the police,
the army, the guillotine. This Government would draw up a statement of
all the produce contained in France. It would divide the country into
districts of supply, and then _command_ that a prescribed quantity of
some particular foodstuff be sent to such a place on such a day, and
delivered at such a station, to be there received on a given day by a
specified official and stored in particular warehouses.
Now, we declare with the fullest conviction, not merely that such a
solution is undesirable, but that it never could by any possibility be
put into practice. It is wildly Utopian!
Pen in hand, one may dream such a dream in the study, but in contact
with reality it comes to nothing,--this was proved in 1793; for, like
all such theories, it leaves out of account the spirit of independence
that is in man. The attempt would lead to a universal uprising, to three
or four _Vendées_, to the villages rising against the towns, all the
country up in arms defying the city for its arrogance in attempting to
impose such a system upon the country.
We have already had too much of Jacobin Utopias! Let us see if some
other form of organization will meet the case.
During the great French Revolution, the provinces starved the large
towns, and killed the Revolution. And yet it is a known fact that the
production of grain in France during 1792-3 had not diminished; indeed,
the evidence goes to show that it had increased. But after having taken
possession of the manorial lands, after having reaped a harvest from
them, the peasants would not part with their grain for paper-money. They
withheld their produce, waiting for a rise in the price, or the
introduction of gold. The most rigorous measures of the National
Convention were without avail, and her executions failed to break up the
ring, or force the farmers to sell their corn. For it is a matter of
history that the commissaries of the Convention did not scruple to
guillotine those who withheld their grain from the market, and
pitilessly executed those who speculated in foodstuffs. All the same,
the corn was not forthcoming, and the townsfolk suffered from famine.
But what was offered to the husbandman in exchange for his hard toil?
_Assignats_, scraps of paper decreasing in value every day, promises of
payment, which could not be kept. A forty-pound note would not purchase
a pair of boots, and the peasant, very naturally, was not anxious to
barter a year's toil for a piece of paper with which he could not even
buy a shirt.
As long as worthless paper-money--whether called assignats or labour
notes--is offered to the peasant-producer it will always be the same.
The country will withhold its produce, and the towns will suffer want,
even if the recalcitrant peasants are guillotined as before.
We must offer to the peasant in exchange for his toil not worthless
paper-money, but the manufactured articles of which he stands in
immediate need. He lacks the proper implements to till the land, clothes
to protect him from the inclemencies of the weather, lamps and oil to
replace his miserable rushlight or tallow dip, spades, rakes, ploughs.
All these things, under present conditions, the peasant is forced to do
without, not because he does not feel the need of them, but because, in
his life of struggle and privation, a thousand useful things are beyond
his reach; because he has not money to buy them.
Let the town apply itself, without loss of time, to manufacturing all
that the peasant needs, instead of fashioning geegaws for the wives of
rich citizens. Let the sewing machines of Paris be set to work on
clothes for the country folk workaday clothes and clothes for Sunday
too, instead of costly evening dresses for the English and Russian
landlords and the African gold-magnates' wives. Let the factories and
foundries turn out agricultural implements, spades, rakes, and
such-like, instead of waiting till the English send them to France, in
exchange for French wines!
Let the towns send no more inspectors to the villages, wearing red,
blue, or rainbow-coloured scarves, to convey to the peasant orders to
take his produce to this place or that, but let them send friendly
embassies to the countryfolk and bid them in brotherly fashion: "Bring
us your produce, and take from our stores and shops all the manufactured
articles you please."--Then provisions would pour in on every side. The
peasant would only withhold what he needed for his own use, and would
send the rest into the cities, feeling _for the first time in the course
of history_ that these toiling townsfolk were his comrades--his
brethren, and not his exploiters.
We shall be told, perhaps, that this would necessitate a complete
transformation of industry. Well, yes, that is true of certain
departments; but there are other branches which could be rapidly
modified in such a way as to furnish the peasant with clothes, watches,
furniture, and the simple implements for which the towns make him pay
such exorbitant prices at the present time. Weavers, tailors,
shoemakers, tinsmiths, cabinet-makers, and many other trades and crafts
could easily direct their energies to the manufacture of useful and
necessary articles, and abstain from producing mere luxuries. All that
is needed is that the public mind should be thoroughly convinced of the
necessity of this transformation, and should come to look upon it as an
act of justice and of progress, and that it should no longer allow
itself to be cheated by that dream, so dear to the theorists--the dream
of a revolution which confines itself to taking possession of the
profits of industry, and leaves production and commerce just as they are
now.
This, then, is our view of the whole question. Cheat the peasant no
longer with scraps of paper--be the sums inscribed upon them ever so
large; but offer him in exchange for his produce the very _things_ of
which he, the tiller of the soil, stands in need. Then the fruits of the
land will be poured into the towns. If this is not done there will be
famine in our cities, and reaction and despair will follow in its train.
VII
All the great towns, we have said, buy their grain, their flour, and
their meat, not only from the provinces, but also from abroad. Foreign
countries send Paris not only spices, fish, and various dainties, but
also immense quantities of corn and meat.
But when the Revolution comes these cities will have to depend on
foreign countries as little as possible. If Russian wheat, Italian or
Indian rice, and Spanish or Hungarian wines abound in the markets of
western Europe, it is not that the countries which export them have a
superabundance, or that such a produce grows there of itself, like the
dandelion in the meadows. In Russia for instance, the peasant works
sixteen hours a day, and half starves from three to six months every
year, in order to export the grain with which he pays the landlord and
the State. To-day the police appears in the Russian village as soon as
the harvest is gathered in, and sells the peasant's last horse and last
cow for arrears of taxes and rent due to the landlord, unless the victim
immolates himself of his own accord by selling the grain to the
exporters. Usually, rather than part with his livestock at a
disadvantage, he keeps only a nine-months' supply of grain, and sells
the rest. Then, in order to sustain life until the next harvest, he
mixes birch-bark and tares with his flour for three months, if it has
been a good year, and for six months if it has been bad, while in London
they are eating biscuits made of his wheat.
But as soon as the Revolution comes, the Russian peasant will keep bread
enough for himself and his children; the Italian and Hungarian peasants
will do the same; the Hindoo, let us hope, will profit by these good
examples; and the farmers of America will hardly be able to cover all
the deficit in grain which Europe will experience. So it will not do to
count on their contributions of wheat and maize satisfying all the
wants.
Since all our middle-class civilization is based on the exploitation of
inferior races and countries with less advanced industrial systems, the
Revolution will confer a boon at the very outset, by menacing that
"civilization," and allowing the so-called inferior races to free
themselves.
But this great benefit will manifest itself by a steady and marked
diminution of the food supplies pouring into the great cities of western
Europe.
It is difficult to predict the course of affairs in the provinces. On
the one hand the slave of the soil will take advantage of the Revolution
to straighten his bowed back. Instead of working fourteen or fifteen
hours a day, as he does at present, he will be at liberty to work only
half that time, which of course would have the effect of decreasing the
production of the principal articles of consumption--grain and meat.
But, on the other hand, there will be an increase of production as soon
as the peasant realizes that he is no longer forced to support the idle
rich by his toil. New tracts of land will be cleared, new and improved
machines set a-going.
"Never was the land so energetically cultivated as in 1792, when the
peasant had taken back from the landlord the soil which he had coveted
so long," Michelet tells us speaking of the Great Revolution.
Of course, before long, intensive culture would be within the reach of
all. Improved machinery, chemical manures, and all such matters would
soon be supplied by the Commune. But everything tends to indicate that
at the outset there would be a falling off in agricultural products, in
France and elsewhere.
In any case it would be wisest to count upon such a falling off of
contributions from the provinces as well as from abroad.--How is this
falling off to be made good?
Why! by setting to work ourselves! No need to rack our brains for
far-fetched panaceas when the remedy lies close at hand.
The large towns, as well as the villages, must undertake to till the
soil. We must return to what biology calls "the integration of
functions"--after the division of labour, the taking up of it as a
whole--this is the course followed throughout Nature.
Besides, philosophy apart, the force of circumstances would bring about
this result. Let Paris see that at the end of eight months it will be
running short of bread, and Paris will set to work to grow wheat.
Land will not be wanting, for it is round the great towns, and round
Paris especially, that the parks and pleasure grounds of the landed
gentry are to be found. These thousands of acres only await the skilled
labour of the husbandman to surround Paris with fields infinitely more
fertile and productive than the steppes of southern Russia, where the
soil is dried up by the sun. Nor will labour be lacking. To what should
the two million citizens of Paris turn their attention, when they would
be no longer catering for the luxurious fads and amusements of Russian
princes, Roumanian grandees, and wives of Berlin financiers?
With all the mechanical inventions of the century; with all the
intelligence and technical skill of the worker accustomed to deal with
complicated machinery; with inventors, chemists, professors of botany,
practical botanists like the market gardeners of Gennevilliers; with all
the plant that they could use for multiplying and improving machinery;
and, finally, with the organizing spirit of the Parisian people, their
pluck and energy--with all these at its command, the agriculture of the
anarchist Commune of Paris would be a very different thing from the rude
husbandry of the Ardennes.
Steam, electricity, the heat of the sun, and the breath of the wind,
will ere long be pressed into service. The steam plough and the steam
harrow will quickly do the rough work of preparation, and the soil, thus
cleaned and enriched, will only need the intelligent care of man, and of
woman even more than man, to be clothed with luxuriant vegetation--not
once but three or four times in the year.
Thus, learning the art of horticulture from experts, and trying
experiments in different methods on small patches of soil reserved for
the purpose, vying with each other to obtain the best returns, finding
in physical exercise, without exhaustion or overwork, the health and
strength which so often flags in cities,--men, women and children will
gladly turn to the labour of the fields, when it is no longer a slavish
drudgery, but has become a pleasure, a festival, a renewal of health and
joy.
"There are no barren lands; the earth is worth what man is worth"--that
is the last word of modern agriculture. Ask of the earth, and she will
give you bread, provided that you ask aright.
A district, though it were as small as the two departments of the Seine
and the Seine-et-Oise, and with so great a city as Paris to feed, would
be practically sufficient to grow upon it all the food supplies, which
otherwise might fail to reach it.
The combination of agriculture and industry, the husbandman and the
mechanic in the same individual--this is what anarchist communism will
inevitably lead us to, if it starts fair with expropriation.
Let the Revolution only get so far, and famine is not the enemy it will
have to fear. No, the danger which will menace it lies in timidity,
prejudice, and half-measures. The danger is where Danton saw it when he
cried to France: "De l'audace, de l'audace, et encore de l'audace." The
bold thought first, and the bold deed will not fail to follow.
FOOTNOTES:
[3] The municipal debt of Paris amounted in 1904 to 2,266,579,100
francs, and the charges for it were 121,000,000 francs.
[4] No fallacy more harmful has ever been spread than the fallacy of a
"One-day Revolution," which is propagated in superficial Socialist
pamphlets speaking of the Revolution of the 18th of March at Berlin,
supposed (which is absolutely wrong) to have given Prussia its
representative Government. We saw well the harm made by such fallacies
in Russia in 1905-1907. The truth is that up to 1871 Prussia, like
Russia of the present day, had a scrap of paper which could be described
as a "Constitution," but it had no representative Government. The
Ministry imposed upon the nation, up till 1870, the budget it chose to
propose.