BRIDGETOWN, TOUR No. 1
Sub-conductor of Foreign Observers Sheep came in as I was paying the
bill. He was a well-set-up man about fifty, and had the appearance of
an old Non-Com. He looked quiet and rather stolid. I never saw him
smile during the whole week I was with him, but he was not offensive in
his manner. Like Inspector Stiff he wore a green uniform, but one with
fewer facings and with chocolate-coloured buttons. Before we started
to walk across to the hotel he asked if I had got my pocket-diary. I
fished out a small notebook, such as I had used in Luniland for marking
engagements.
"That is of no use for the purpose," he informed me. "You must have one
like this"; and he showed me a book about six inches by four inches,
with four pages for each day.
"Oh!" I said, "I shall never need all that; besides, it is spaced for a
month only."
In a perfectly matter-of-fact voice he said calmly, "Every person in
Meccania uses a pocket-diary like this. You will find it indispensable
in order that you may make your entries correctly in your weekly diary
for the Time Department."
"The what department?" I asked, rather puzzled.
"The Time Department: but never mind; I will explain all that in its
proper place. We will get a pocket-diary as we go along."
We walked to the hotel, and on the way Sheep slipped into an office of
some kind and handed me a pocket-diary of the regulation type. As we
entered the hotel, which was a very small affair,--evidently the number
of foreigners in Bridgetown at any one time could not be more than a
dozen if they were all lodged here,--he popped his head into a sort
of box-office near the door and said in a loud voice, "Nine o'clock.
National Councillor Ming." A girl in the box-office echoed the words
whilst making an entry on a large sheet, and handed him a buff-coloured
sheet of cardboard, divided or ruled into small squares. This he
presented to me, telling me to note down on it the exact time when I
entered and left the hotel, and to get it initialed every other day by
the girl clerk in the box-office. If the times did not tally with her
record I was to consult the manager of the hotel.
"The first thing to do is to report yourself to the manager of the
hotel," said Sheep when he had taken me to my room, where I found my
baggage, which I had not seen since I left Graves.
The manager was a rather fussy little man, also in a green uniform
like Sheep's but with different facings. He did not seem specially
pleased to see me. All he said was, "I hope you will not give so much
trouble as the last of your fellow-countrymen we had here. If you will
study the regulations you will save yourself and me much inconvenience.
Meals are at eight, one, and six, and at no other times. And remember
that conversation with other Foreign Observers is prohibited until you
have received the Certificate of Approval."
Conductor Sheep had rung up for a motor-car, and as we waited a few
minutes for its arrival he said, "As you will have seen from the
printed programme of Tour No. 1, we shall first make a geographical
survey of the town, then we shall visit the public buildings, taking
note of their architectural features, and beginning first with those
under local control, following on with those under the joint control
of the Central and Local Government, and concluding with those solely
under the control of the Central Government. And of the first category
we shall see those first which have to do with the bodily needs, and
of these we shall take first those connected with food, then with
clothing, then with housing; for that is the only logical order.
Everything has been carefully prescribed by the Department of Culture
and the Department of Sociology, and the same plan is followed by all
Foreign Observers, whatever city they may be visiting."
We went first to a look-out tower which stood on a hill about a mile
outside the town. Here we had a view of the surrounding country. The
town lay in a bend of the river. It was not exactly picturesque, but
the large number of new public buildings near the centre, the broad
streets lined with villas, each surrounded by a garden in the large
residential quarter on the western side, and even the orderly streets
of houses and flats on the more thickly populated eastern side,
produced altogether a fine effect. The country round was magnificent.
Low wooded hills rose on three sides, backed by higher hills in the
distance. Sheep talked almost learnedly about the geology of the
district and the historical reasons for the situation of Bridgetown.
Then he pointed out that the plan of the town was like a wheel. In
the centre were the public buildings and squares. The main streets
radiated like spokes, and between these came the residential quarters
of the seven social classes; those of the first three on the west side,
those of the fourth to the north and south, those of the fifth, sixth
and seventh, to the east. On the east side also lay the factories,
workshops and warehouses. The shops were arranged in a sort of ring
running through the middle of each of the residential quarters.
"The seven social classes?" I asked. I had heard in a vague way of the
existence of this arrangement, but had little idea what it meant.
"Yes," answered Sheep, as if he were reading from a guide-book, "the
first consists of the highest aristocracy, military and civil; the
second, of the military and naval officers, all of noble birth; the
third, of the highest mercantile class with an income of £5000 a year
and the officials of the first grade in the Imperial civil service; the
fourth, of the officials of the civil service of lower grades and the
bulk of the professional classes; the fifth, of the skilled artisan
class; the sixth, of the semi-skilled; and the seventh, of the menial
industrial groups."
I asked him to go over it again whilst I took a note for future
reference.
The rest of the morning passed in listening to Sheep's elaborate
descriptions of the drainage and sewage systems, the water supply,
the power and light and heat supply, the tramway system, the parcels
system, the postal delivery system, the milk delivery system, all from
the geographical point of view. After lunch we spent some time in going
all over the town on the tramways. This completed the geographical
survey.
At six o'clock I was deposited in the hotel just in time for dinner.
Presently I prepared to go out to some place of amusement; but on
attempting to leave the hotel I was stopped by the porter, who told me
I could not leave the hotel unless accompanied by my conductor.
So I spent the evening in writing up my journal. During the day I
had noticed that everywhere all the men were dressed in a sort of
uniform, and that the colours of these uniforms corresponded to the
rank or class of the wearers. Perhaps I ought to have mentioned this
circumstance earlier, for certainly it was one of the first things
I noticed when I began to go into the streets. The colours of the
uniforms are very striking and even crude. They supply the only
touch of the picturesque in Bridgetown, for, judging by my first
day's impressions of the town, I should imagine that the authorities
responsible for rebuilding it have swept away every vestige of the
tiny mediæval city which once existed on this spot and have replaced
it by a perfectly uniform piece of Meccanian town-planning. In such a
setting these uniforms strike one at first as out of place, but perhaps
I have not yet grasped their purpose or significance. The colour of the
uniforms of the members of the First Class is white; that of the Second
Class, red or scarlet; of the Third, yellow; of the Fourth, green; of
the Fifth, chocolate; of the Sixth, grey; of the Seventh, dark blue.
But so far I have seen no white uniforms, and only a few scarlet. I
saw several yellow uniforms to-day, but the most common were the green
uniforms of the Fourth Class and the chocolate uniforms of the Fifth
Class, to which the skilled artisans belong. Greys and dark blues were
also fairly numerous; but what surprised me most of all was the small
number of people to be seen in the streets. I must ask Sheep for the
explanation of this.
Promptly at nine o'clock next morning Sub-Conductor of Foreign
Observers Sheep made his appearance at the hotel, and we began our tour
of the public buildings. He took me first to the 'Import-Food-Hall,'
which stood alongside the railway on the outskirts of the town near
the industrial quarter. It was a great warehouse through which all
the food brought into the town has to pass before it is allowed to be
sold in the markets and shops. (The sole exception is milk, which is
distributed by municipal servants.) The building was very extensive
and several stories high. The two ends were open for the passage of
railway wagons. The architecture was not without a certain coarse
dignity. The arches were decorated in Romanesque style, and the whole
front facing the street was covered with rude sculptures in high relief
of scenes connected with the production of food. The interior walls
were covered with frescoes depicting similar scenes. Conductor Sheep
grew almost enthusiastic over this exhibition of Meccanian Art. All
these decorations, he said, had been executed by the students of the
Bridgetown Art School. I was not altogether surprised to hear this;
there was something so very naïve and obvious about the whole idea.
We next saw the municipal slaughter-houses, which were almost
adjoining. Inspector Sheep informed me how many minutes it took to
kill and prepare for the meat market a given number of cattle, sheep or
pigs. He dilated on the perfection of the machinery for every process,
and assured me that not a single drop of blood was wasted. The amount
of every particular kind of animal food required for each week in the
year was ascertained by the Sociological Department, and consequently
there was no difficulty in regulating the supply. The perfection of
the methods of preserving meat also effected some economy. Conductor
Sheep assured me that the Meccanian slaughter-houses had become the
models for all the civilised world, and that a former Director of the
Bridgetown slaughter-houses had been lent to a foreign Government to
organise the system of technical instruction for butchers.
The five markets were in five different parts of the city. They served
to distribute perishable foods only, which were not allowed to be
sold in the ordinary shops. All women in the Fifth, Sixth and Seventh
Classes were obliged to do their marketing in person. Each person was
obliged to deal solely with one dealer for a year at a time, and to
attend at the market at a particular hour, so that there should be no
congestion and no waste of time on the part of the dealers. This, I
suppose, explains the wonderful orderliness of these markets. There was
no gossiping or chaffering. Whether the people enjoy this arrangement
is a matter upon which Sheep did not enlighten me. He said it had been
calculated by the Time Department that an economy of 50 per cent had
been effected in the time spent upon the daily purchase of food since
the introduction of the modern market system.
Foods that are not perishable are sold in the shops, and as regards
certain articles there is the same system of choosing each year the
shop at which one buys a particular article, whilst as regards others
trade is free. The housewife must buy her bread always from the same
baker; but things like mustard, spices, coffee or preserved food may be
bought at any shop.
The sale of drink is regulated in a different way. The three lowest
classes are not allowed to keep drink in their houses; but as the
favourite national drink is a mild kind of beer which can be got in
any restaurant, there is no apparent hardship in this regulation. The
way in which excess is checked is very curious. The weekly budgets
of every family, in all classes below the fourth, are checked by the
authorities--by which department I do not know--and if the amount
spent on drink exceeds a certain sum per head, a fine is inflicted and
the offender warned. If the offence is persisted in, the offender is
forbidden to buy any drink for a specified period. One might suppose
that such regulations could easily be evaded; so they could in most
countries, but not in Meccania. Everything is so perfectly scrutinised
that no evasion seems possible--at any rate as far as the three lowest
classes are concerned.
"This scrutiny of family budgets," I remarked, "is it not resented and
even evaded?"
"I do not think it is resented," answered Sheep, "but it certainly
cannot be evaded. Why should it be resented? The facts are only known
to the officials, and in any case they would be required by the
Sociological Department. How else could it obtain the necessary data
for its researches? Every woman is taught how to keep her household
accounts in the proper manner, and she sends in her account book at
the end of each quarter. That is necessary for many reasons. No," he
concluded, as if the idea had not occurred to him before, "I have never
heard of any complaints. Only those would wish to complain who desired
to evade some salutary regulation; consequently there is no reason why,
out of regard for them, we should interfere with a practice that has so
many advantages."
"What are the advantages?" I asked, for so far I had seen no advantage
except the possibility of checking expenditure upon drink.
"The use of these accurate family budgets and household accounts to the
Sociological Department is simply indispensable. To the Department of
Trade and Industry also they are very valuable. In fact, you may take
it that all our Meccanian institutions are so arranged that they serve
several purposes and fit in with the whole Meccanian scheme of life."
Incidentally, in connection with the family expenditure on food, he
mentioned model dietaries. I was curious to know what these were. He
explained that there were three recognised kinds of dietaries. First,
the Food Department prescribed model dietaries for families of the
three lowest classes in normal health. Secondly, when each person was
medically examined--and this happened at least once a year--the medical
officer might prescribe a dietary for the individual; and lastly, if a
person were positively ill, it would be the duty of the medical officer
in charge of the case to prescribe a dietary. I was going to ask some
further questions about the Medical Department, when Sheep reminded me
that we had still several other municipal departments to visit before
we came to the Medical Department, and that we must not depart from the
programme of our tour.
The Department for the Inspection and Regulation of Clothing came next.
I was rather surprised that this should be a municipal institution,
seeing that the regulations were uniform for the whole country.
Sheep explained that it was just because the regulations were so
perfectly uniform that the function of administering them could be
entrusted to the municipality. The department was quite a small
affair. Only about ten inspectors were required for Bridgetown. Their
duties were to see that no person wore any uniform to which he was
not entitled, and that on ceremonial occasions full-dress uniform was
worn. It was quite easy to ensure that a uniform of the right colour
was worn, but in addition to that the various grades of each class
were indicated by the various facings, stripes, buttons and badges, as
were also the different occupations within each class and grade. The
penalties for wearing unauthorised decorations were very heavy, and
infringements were very rare, as detection was almost certain.
"I should have thought that the whole clothing trade would be in the
hands of the Government," I remarked.
"That is not part of our system," replied Sheep. "The production of all
the kinds of cloth for all the uniforms is so standardised that there
would be no advantage in the State taking over the mere manufacture.
Each person chooses his tailor from a small panel. Naturally the
members of the higher classes have the best tailors. In fact, a tailor
of the first grade would not be allowed to make suits for the three
lowest classes; it would be a waste of talent."
"And what about the women's clothing?" I inquired. "They do not wear
uniforms. Is their dress regulated in any way?"
"Only in two ways," answered Sheep. "Every woman must wear, on the
front upper part of each of her outdoor dresses, a piece of cloth of
the regulation pattern and colour, to indicate the class to which she
belongs. Also the expenditure on dress is limited according to the
social class."
When we came to the offices of the Department of Health, Sheep said I
had made a grave error of judgment in choosing Tour No. 1--the tour for
a single week only--as there was enough to occupy us for a week in the
Department of Health alone. It included the Sanitation Section, the
Medical Inspection Section, the Medical Dispensing Section, the Medical
Attendance Section, the Hospital Section, the section of the Special
Medical Board, the Marriages and Births Section, the Post-Mortem
Section, and the Buildings Section.
After this I was not surprised to hear that over a thousand persons were
employed in the Health Department, in addition to the workmen--chiefly
of the Sixth and Seventh Classes--who did the actual menial work of
keeping the sewage system in order and keeping the streets clean. I
might write a whole chapter on the Health Department, but it will
perhaps suffice if I mention the most singular features.
Inspectors visit every house twice a year to see that each house and
flat is kept in a sanitary condition. Each person is medically examined
once a year--this is in addition to the system of medical inspection in
schools--and whatever treatment is prescribed he must submit to.
"What happens," I asked, "if a person declines to submit to treatment?"
"He would be taken before the Special Medical Board," answered Sheep.
"And what is that?" I asked.
"We shall come to that presently," said Sheep reprovingly. He went on
to explain that the Dispensing Section treated all persons of the three
lowest classes who did not require to go into a hospital. The doctors
were municipal officials and there was no choice of doctor.
"Why do you not allow choice of doctor?" I asked.
"That would interfere with the proper classification of the diseases,"
he answered. "As soon as a complaint is diagnosed, it is handed over
to the appropriate doctor for treatment. The same applies to the
Medical Attendance Section; but persons in the three lowest classes
are not generally attended in their homes, they are brought into
the hospitals. The chief work of the Medical Attendance Section is
in connection with births; consequently we employ a number of women
doctor-nurses in this Section. Now we come to the Special Medical
Board. It is a sort of Higher General Staff. It collates the results
of the work of all the other medical sections, and is responsible for
the annual report. It receives the instructions of the Central Medical
Department of Meccania, and sees that these are carried out. It directs
special investigations in all abnormal cases. In the case of so-called
incurable diseases it pronounces its decree as to whether the case is
incurable, and in that event it authorises the death of the patient."
"Authorises the death of the patient?" I said. "Without the patient's
consent?"
"The patient can hardly be the best judge," said Sheep.
"What about the relatives then?" I asked.
"The relatives have no voice in the matter," said Sheep.
"That sounds very drastic," I remarked; "and what about the sort of
case you mentioned a little while ago?"
"The case _you_ mentioned?" said Sheep. "I do not remember any such
cases, but if one occurred it would be dealt with under Section 143 of
the Medical Regulations, which prescribes that in case of persistent
disregard of the instructions of the authorised medical officer, with
the consent of the Special Medical Board, the person guilty of such
refusal is to be removed to an asylum for mental abnormality."
"A lunatic asylum!"
"We do not call them lunatic asylums. The term is obsolete; it does not
accord with our system of classification."
Sheep next dealt with the Marriages and Births Section. This is in some
ways the most remarkable of all. It appears that a licence to marry is
issued to all persons in normal health, the Department prescribing the
number of children to be born within each period of five years. Persons
classified as abnormal are specially dealt with, and on this subject
Sheep referred me to the Report of the Central Medical Department,
which I could obtain in the Great Meccanian Library at Mecco. The
Post-Mortem Section carried out an examination in all cases of interest
to the Health Department before cremation.
I asked what the Buildings Section was. It seems to be a sort of link
between the Architectural Department and the Health Department, and
supervises the building regulations from the hygienic point of view.
The next day Conductor Sheep called punctually at nine o'clock to
continue the tour of observation. We had come to the end of one
section, as marked out in the mind of the 'Authority,' and were now to
begin another, namely, the institutions controlled partly by the City
and partly by the State. I suspect that the control by the City is a
good deal of a fiction, for the State has power to take over any of the
functions that are not performed to its satisfaction.
We began with the Police. The office of the Central Police Station
was in the building where I had first been inspected, examined and
instructed, on my arrival. It was a large building for a town of the
size of Bridgetown, and seemed full of officials, police officers and
clerks. Yet I had noticed very few police officers in the streets. I
remarked upon this to my guide. I said, "In the country I have just
come from they have a great many police officers in the streets of the
large towns, but very few other officials connected with the police
service. Here, apparently, you have few police officers in the streets,
but a great many other officials connected with the police service. Can
you explain that?"
"Yes," he said; "I have heard something of the kind before, and
although I have never been abroad to other countries, the books in
our libraries describe the police systems so fully that I think I can
answer your question. The police in Luniland--so I am informed--do
little else besides keeping order in the streets and following up
criminals."
"Exactly," I remarked. "What else should they do?"
"Here," said Sheep, "these are the least of their functions. We
employ fewer police in keeping order in the streets, and in detecting
criminals, than any country in the world. Crime and disorder are almost
unknown in Meccania. Our people are so well brought up that they
have little desire to commit crime. Those who do show any propensity
in that direction are deported to criminal colonies and give very
little trouble afterwards. Besides, there is, after all, very little
opportunity to commit crime, as you would soon discover if you
attempted to do so."
"I can well believe that," I said. "But what, then, do your police find
to do?"
"Speaking generally, their function is to see that the regulations
devised for the good of the State are properly carried out."
"And those regulations are rather numerous, I suppose?"
"Undoubtedly. As they affect every department of life, there are many
occasions upon which the assistance of the police is necessary in order
that people shall not make mistakes," said Sheep.
"But," I said, "I thought that the officials of each department of
State attended to so many things that there would be little left
for the police. For instance," I added, "the inspectors of food and
clothing, of buildings, of public health, of education, and so forth."
"Yes, yes," answered Conductor Sheep; "but suppose some matter arises
which may belong to several departments; the citizen needs guidance.
Quite apart from that, the police watch over the life of the people
from the point of view of the general public interest. They collect
information from all the other departments. Suppose a man neglects his
attendance at the theatre: the amusement authority must report the case
to the police. Similarly with all the other departments. Suppose, for
instance, a man were to try to make an unauthorised journey, or to
remain absent from work without a medical certificate, or to exceed
his proper expenditure and get into debt, or try to pass himself off
as a member of a higher class: in such cases it is the police who
take cognisance of the offence. Then there is the annual report and
certificate of conduct with respect to every citizen. How could this be
filled up without exact information? All this involves a great deal of
work."
"Indeed it must," I replied.
"You see, then, that our police are not idle," said Sheep triumphantly.
"Indeed I do," I replied.
After this enlightening explanation the offices of the Police
Department no longer presented a mystery to me. I looked with awe at
the hundreds of volumes of police reports in the official library of
the Bridgetown police office, and wondered what the Central Police
Office Library would be like; for I was told it contained a copy of
every police report of every district in the country, as well as those
for the great capital Mecco.
When we came to the Department of Education, which was one of the
institutions managed by the State and the Municipality, Conductor Sheep
regretted once more that I had chosen Tour No. 1. We could only spare
half a day at most for this important department. Here, again, I can
only note a few of the unusual features of the system, as explained
to me by my encyclopædic conductor. We saw no schools except on the
outside, but I noticed the children going to and from school. They
all marched in step, in twos or fours, like little soldiers. They did
not race about the streets or play games. Wherever they started from
they fell into step with their comrades and carried their satchels
like knapsacks. The State Inspectors, it seems, decide what is to be
taught, and how it is to be taught: the local officers carry out their
instructions and classify the children. In the office of the Department
there is a sort of museum of school apparatus in connection with the
stores section. The books are all prescribed by the Central Department,
and no others may be used. The children of the Sixth and Seventh
Classes attend common schools in order to get the benefit of better
classification. There are no schools in Bridgetown for the members
of the First and Second Classes. They go elsewhere, but the other
classes have separate schools. The children of the Sixth and Seventh
Classes stay at school until they are twelve; but their instruction is
largely of a practical and manual kind. Those of the Fifth Class remain
until fifteen, and are trained to be skilled workmen. After fifteen
they receive instruction in science in connection with their several
occupations.
Closely connected with the system of education, for the three lowest
classes, is the Juvenile Bureau of Industry. This is controlled by
the Department of Industry and Commerce. No young person in Meccania
can take up any employment without a certificate granted by this
Department. The officials of the Juvenile Bureau, after consultation
with the officials of the Education Department, decide what occupation
boys and girls may enter, and no employer is allowed to engage a boy or
girl except through the medium of the Bureau.
"What about the inclinations of the boys and girls, and the desires of
their parents?" I remarked to Sheep.
"The inclinations of the boys?" said Sheep, more puzzled than
surprised. "In what way does that affect the question?"
"A boy might like to be a cabinet-maker rather than a metal worker, or
a mason rather than a clerk," I said.
"But such a question as that will have been determined while the boy is
at school."
"Then when does he get the chance of choosing an occupation?"
"It will depend upon his abilities for different kinds of work. And he
can hardly be the judge of that himself," added Sheep.
"Where do the parents come in, then?" I asked.
"The parents will naturally encourage the boy to do his best at school.
And after all, does it matter much whether a boy is a mason or a
carpenter? In any case, the number of carpenters will be decided each
year, and even each quarter, by the Department of Industry. It is not
as if it would alter his class, either; he will be in the same class
unless he is very exceptional and passes the State Examination for
promotion."
I saw it would be useless to suggest any other ideas to Sub-Conductor
Sheep, who seemed constitutionally unable to understand any objections
to the official point of view. I could hardly hope to learn much about
education in a single afternoon. All we saw was the mere machinery from
the outside, and not even a great deal of that. I gathered that there
was a most minute classification, with all sorts of subdivisions, of
the children according to their capacities and future occupations.
There were sufficient local inspectors to provide one for each
large school, and their chief business was to conduct psychological
experiments and apply all sorts of tests of intelligence in order to
introduce improved methods of instruction. The inspectors themselves
were all specialists. One was an expert on mental fatigue, another
devoted himself to classifying the teachers according to their aptitude
for teaching particular subjects, another specialised in organising
profitable recreative employments for different grades of children;
another superintended all juvenile amusements. Sheep showed me the
exterior of a large psychological laboratory attached to the Technical
College. Bridgetown was too small to have a University of its own,
but it had two large 'Secondary' Schools for pupils in the Third and
Fourth Classes, and an enormous technical school for the boys of the
Fifth Class. It was fitted up like a series of workshops for all sorts
of trades, with class-rooms and laboratories attached. Sheep asserted
that it was through these schools that the Meccanian artisans had
become by far the most efficient workmen in the whole world. I had not
time to ask many questions about the provision for games or physical
training, but from something Sheep said I inferred that whilst games
had been reduced to a minimum the experts had devised a system of
physical training which satisfied all Meccanian requirements.
Sheep strongly advised me to study Meccanian education in Mecco if I
ever got there. All true Meccanians recognised, he said, that the whole
national greatness of Meccania rested on their system of education. No
doubt statesmen had done much, but the ground had been prepared by the
schoolmasters, and the statesmen themselves had been brought up in the
Meccanian system of education. He himself, he confided, was the son of
a Meccanian village schoolmaster.
Why then, I asked, begging his pardon if the question were indiscreet,
did he wear the chocolate button which indicated that he had once been
a member of the Fifth Class?
"When the sevenfold classification was introduced," he answered,
"village schoolmasters who were not graduates were in the Fifth
Class, and I was in the Fifth Class until I was thirty and gained my
promotion in the Police Department."
* * * * *
Tour No. 1 made no provision for studying the lighter side of life
in Bridgetown. Sheep said that practically all forms of amusement
were controlled by a section of the Department of Culture, but that
the Organising Inspectors of Private Leisure were appointed locally,
subject to the approval of the Central Department.
"Organising Inspectors of Private Leisure!" I exclaimed. "What an
extraordinary institution!"
"In what way extraordinary?" said Sheep.
"I am sure they do not exist in any other country," I replied.
"Perhaps not," replied Sheep; "but, then, our culture is not modelled
on that of any other country. Possibly other countries will discover
the use of such officials when they have developed a better system of
education."
"But what is their function?" I asked.
"Any person who has more than an hour a day unaccounted for, after
doing his day's work, and fulfilling all his other duties, is required
to submit a scheme every half-year, showing what cultural pursuit he
proposes to follow. The inspectors will assist him with expert advice
and will see that he carries out his programme."
"Is there nothing left unregulated in this country?" I asked in as
innocent a tone as I could command.
"That is a very interesting question," replied Sheep. "If you will
consult the _Forty-eighth Annual Report of the Ministry of Culture_
you will find an interesting diagram, or map, showing the whole field
of Meccanian life and the stages in its organisation. One by one all
the spheres of life have been gradually organised. If you examine the
diagram showing the present state of Meccania, and compare it with
similar maps for other countries, you will perceive how very much more
advanced our culture is than that of any other country."
"And what regions still remain for the Department of Culture to
conquer?"
"An investigation is going on at the present time into the interesting
question of individual taste," he answered. "It is being conducted by
the Æsthetic Section of the Department, but they have not yet reported."
Where everything is so completely regulated it is not surprising to
find that poverty, as understood in many countries, no longer exists;
but I was not quite clear how it was provided against. Once more Sheep
was ready with a complete explanation.
"Our laws," he said, "do not permit anyone to remain idle, and the
regulation of the expenditure of the lower classes secures them
against improvidence. Besides, as they contribute to insurance funds,
they receive a pension in old age, and allowances during sickness or
disablement. Poverty is therefore impossible."
"Apparently, then," I remarked, "if the labouring classes will
surrender their liberty to the State they can be relieved of all danger
of poverty."
"I do not understand what you mean by surrendering their liberty,"
replied Sheep.
"In many other countries," I said, "people desire to please themselves
what they will work at, and indeed whether they will work at all. They
like to have the liberty of striking, for instance, against wages or
other conditions that do not satisfy them, and I have heard people in
such countries declare that they would rather preserve their freedom in
such things than be secured even against poverty."
"It is no part of my business to discuss such questions," replied
Sheep, "but I have never heard such a question even discussed in
Meccania. The foundation of Meccanian law is that the private
individual has no rights against the State."
* * * * *
It was towards the end of the week that I mentioned to Conductor
Sheep that I had had great difficulty in procuring a copy of the
local newspaper published in Bridgetown; in fact, I had not managed
to get a sight of it. Sheep explained that Tour No. 1 did not allow
time for the study of local social life in such detail as to provide
a place for such a thing, but he was good enough to procure me a
sight of the _Bridgetown Weekly Gazette_. It was well printed on
good paper, but it was more like an official municipal record than a
newspaper. It contained brief reports of municipal committee meetings,
announcements as to forthcoming examinations, lists of persons who
had passed various examinations; and statistics of births, deaths
and marriages. The figures for the births were given in an unusual
form. There were fifty first-born boys, forty-five first-born girls;
forty-seven second-born boys, forty-eight second-born girls; and so on
down to three fourteenth-born boys and seven fourteenth-born girls.
There were statistics of accidents, with brief details. There was a
list of small fines inflicted for various infringements of regulations,
and announcements of forthcoming legal cases. The only advertisements
were a few concerning sales of property and household goods. It was
altogether the driest document calling itself a newspaper I had ever
seen. I tried to draw Sheep on the subject of newspapers in general,
but he seemed rather annoyed.
"I procured this _Gazette_," he said, "as a concession to your
curiosity, although it forms no part of our programme, and now you wish
to go into a subject which is totally unconnected with our tour. The
question is of historical interest only, and if you stay in Meccania
long enough to study the historical development of our Culture,
you will study the history of the Press in its proper place and
connection. I will, however, add for your present information that the
Central Government issues a complete series of Gazettes, which serve
the same purpose for the country as a whole as the _Bridgetown Weekly
Gazette_ for his locality."
With that the subject was closed for the present.
* * * * *
Although I had now been here nearly a whole week, I had not yet had
an opportunity of strolling round to see anything that might catch
my fancy. Everything had been done according to the programme.
Nevertheless, I had noticed a few things in the course of my daily
tours which Conductor Sheep did not think worthy of comment. I got very
tired of his guide-book style of explanation. Bridgetown was hardly
worth the painful and systematic study which he compelled me to give to
it, and I decided to go straight on to the capital in a few days.
I saw no drunken people--the regulations do not permit drunkenness.
I saw no loose women in the streets. On this subject I can get no
information from Sheep, but I suspect there is something to learn.
There were no advertisement hoardings. I must confess I rather missed
them; they may be ugly, but they are often interesting. The shops were
very dull. Nothing was displayed in the windows to tempt people to buy,
and there were no people about the streets shopping in a casual way.
People must know what they want, and go to the shops which specialise
in the particular article. There were large stores; but even these were
so divided into departments that there was little fun in shopping.
Indiscriminate and casual shopping is distinctly discouraged by the
State. Advertising is restricted to trade journals, except for a little
in the miserable local gazettes. Only those forms of production which
the State considers necessary are allowed to expand indefinitely;
all the others are regulated. Consequently there are none of the
incitements to expenditure which exist in most modern countries. I have
never been a great shopper, but I could not have believed how much
duller life was without the attractions of the shop windows and the
stores, if I had not been here. For instance, I found that I had very
foolishly come without a pair of bedroom slippers, so I wanted to buy
a pair. I looked round naturally for a shop where I should see such
things displayed in the window, but I had to go to the slipper section
of the boot department of a store, choose from an illustrated catalogue
the quality I wanted, and take whatever they had.
I thought I should have seen book-shops displaying all the most recent
books and publications. In other countries I found it possible to pick
up a great deal of information by noticing the kind of literature
exposed for sale. Booksellers' shops have always an attraction for
me. To my amazement the book-sellers' shops have disappeared from
Meccania, yet I know from my own reading they used to be quite a
feature in the life of the old Meccania. The censorship of the printing
trade has apparently revolutionised the book-selling business. At any
rate, the only place in which I could get to see books in Bridgetown
was at a sort of office in the Technical College. It seems that the
Publications Department of the Ministry of Culture--I think that is the
right name--has in every town a public room, fitted up like a small
library, in which all the current books published are exhibited for six
months at a time. This is really a very useful institution in itself,
but the books exhibited were not on sale, so all the pleasurable
excitement of a book-_shop_ was wanting. To _buy_ books one must order
them through an authorised book-agent, who has a sort of monopoly. I
wondered why such an extraordinary arrangement should have been made,
but when I got the explanation from Sheep it was quite consistent with
the general scheme of things here.
I asked him whether the Government discouraged the public from reading.
He said, "Not at all. Our people are great readers; they do not need
any incitements to read. They consult the lists of new books and come
to the book-room to see any book in which they are interested. Then
they decide whether to buy it or to borrow it from the public library."
"But why do you not permit people to open book-shops?"
"It would be a sheer waste," replied Sheep. "One book-agent can
supply all the books required in Bridgetown without keeping a stock
of thousands of books that would never be wanted or not wanted for
years. Apply the same principle to other towns and you will see that by
keeping only one central stock we effect a great economy."
I pointed out that in other countries the publishers kept the stock and
supplied booksellers with what they wanted, allowing them to keep a few
copies for the immediate sales; and that consequently this was almost
as economical an arrangement.
"But," said Sheep, "we have no publishers in your sense of the word.
When a book is written it cannot be printed without the sanction of the
Government censors, who decide how many copies in the first instance
are to be issued. The publishers are really printers who arrange the
form and style of the book, but undertake no responsibility such as
publishers in other countries undertake."
"Then the Government are really the publishers?" I suggested.
"Well," answered Sheep, "the Government _are_ the publishers of most
books. That is to say, the number of Government publications exceeds
the number of private publications, but as regards the latter the
publishers or printers assume the financial responsibility for the
sales but are insured by the Government against loss, so long as they
comply with the conditions imposed by the Publishing Department."
But I have digressed too far. My interest in book-shops must be my
excuse. Not only were there no casual shoppers, but I saw no one
sauntering about the streets. Everybody seemed to have an object in
view. There were no children playing. The children were either marching
in step to or from school, or they were performing some kind of
organised game--if it could be called a game--under the supervision of
a teacher or guardian. The workmen going to their work, or returning,
also marched in step like soldiers. The women going to market went at
the appointed time and took their place in a little queue if there were
more than three or four in front of them. At the theatre there was no
crowd outside; every one had his numbered seat and went to it at the
minute. Each man's ticket has printed on it the day of his attendance,
the number of the seat and the exact time at which he must be present.
There are no such things here as football matches or other sports
witnessed by crowds. The men attend military drill once a week, some
on Sundays and some on Saturdays. This is in addition to their annual
periods of drill. The only custom which survives from old times,
resembling the customs of other countries, is that of sitting in the
evening in gardens attached to restaurants. Here the people listen to
bands of music whilst they drink a thin kind of liquor and smoke cigars.
The sense of orderliness is almost oppressive. Every hour of the day
has been mapped out for me, except when I have been writing my journal
in the evening. The day before yesterday we began to visit the State
institutions. The chief of these is the Post Office, but the most
remarkable is the Time Department. The Post Office is very much like
any other post office, except that it has a Censor's Department. All
letters are actually read by the clerks in the Censor's Department.
Sheep gave me a curious explanation in justification of this
extraordinary institution. Put briefly, his case was this. The State
could not, with due regard to the interests of the community, allow
_all_ letters to go uncensored. All sorts of mischief might be hatched.
If the State censors any letters it cannot logically stop short of
censoring all. As to the labour involved, this pays for itself. For
the public, knowing that its letters are liable to be read, does not
indulge in unnecessary letter-writing. Thus time is saved, which can be
devoted to more useful purposes. The statistics compiled by the Time
Department have completely proved that the labour of the fifty clerks
employed in censoring the letters effects a saving of more than four
times the amount of time which would otherwise be spent by the public
in useless letter-writing.
This Time Department is the most extraordinary institution of all I
have seen so far. Every person over ten years of age is required to
fill in a diary-form each week showing the time spent daily on every
separate operation. The diary form is a stout double sheet of foolscap
providing four pages altogether. The first page is stamped with the
name, address, and other particulars of the 'diarist.' The two open
pages are ruled into 336 small oblong spaces, one for each half-hour of
the week. In these spaces brief entries are made, such as 'breakfast,'
'tram-journey,' 'conversation,' 'sleeping,' etc. This part of the
diary thus gives a chronological account of each day in successive
half-hours. On the back page is printed a long list of about 150
categories in three columns. I noticed such headings as these:--Sleep,
dressing, meals (subdivided), travelling (conveyance specified),
employment (specified under many heads), study (specified), reading,
letter-writing, interviews with officials, attendance at theatre,
concert, church, museum, etc., conversation (subdivided into family,
friends, others), other amusements (specified), public ceremonies,
drill, etc. Against each of these headings the total number of minutes
spent during the week is recorded.
The information derived from these diaries is scrutinised and worked
up into elaborate reports and statistics for the benefit of the
Sociological Department, the Police Department, the Department of
Trade and Industry, and so forth. I hope to learn more of this most
remarkable feature of Meccanian life when I reach the capital, where
the Central Time Department carries on its work.
I have good reason to remember the Time Department, for on Sunday
morning after breakfast I was sent for by the official who manages
the Hotel for Foreign Observers. He told me rather curtly that he had
just received a telephone message from the local office of the Time
Department inquiring whether I had sent in my diary, as it had not
been received. I told him I knew nothing about such a thing. He said,
"Nonsense. You have had the usual instructions given to all foreigners.
Look among your papers." I did look, and there, sure enough, was a
sheet of instructions and three blank forms. He said, "You had better
fill it up at once." So I went to the writing-room and began. But I
could not remember what had happened at all clearly enough to fill the
half of it in. At the end of an hour the hotel manager came to ask what
I was doing all this time. I explained my difficulty. He asked if I had
not kept a pocket-diary: it was indispensable. I suddenly remembered
the pocket-diary Sheep had procured for me; but I had forgotten to
make use of it. What a fool I was! We spent the next hour doctoring up
the diary and then sent it in. He told me I should have to pay a fine
of ten shillings for the delay. I did not mind that, but the next day
I received a visit from an official from the Time Department, who
came with Conductor Sheep to point out that there were many errors in
the diary. The times for a number of items did not tally with those
in Conductor Sheep's diary, although we had been together the whole
week from 9 a.m. to 6 p.m. each day. I should have to make out a fresh
diary with the assistance of Conductor Sheep, and pay a fine of £1.
The charge of falsifying my diary would not be made, in view of my
colossal ignorance; the charge would be reduced to that of negligence
to verify particulars. Conductor Sheep was rather disagreeable about
the affair, as it might be considered to reflect on him. I certainly
thought he might have taken the trouble to instruct me more fully upon
such a momentous business. However, as I was on the point of leaving
Bridgetown for Mecco, I was not much disturbed by his ill-humour.