IV THE INDIVIDUALISTIC ERA! THE OTHER SIDE POLITICAL and industrial freedom unfet- tered the ambition, the initiative, the cre- ative, and inventive abihty of all the human race and so founded our modern industrial civ- ilization on the basis of individualism. But differently expressed, this foundation of our civilization means, "Everybody for himself, and the devil take the hindmost." What then if the hindmost does not care to be taken? And organized mediocrity is more powerful than individualistic ability. For a long time this issue did not arise; the opportunities opened up by the destruction of feudal i)rivilege were so vast that few indeed were those who did not find their social and industrial position materially better than in previous ages. In the small individualistic pro- duction of the first half-century of capitalism everybody with some initiative and ability 44 THE OTHER SIDE found opportunity to make himself industrially independent and moderately prosperous — as pros})erity was considered in these, the golden days of individualism. But the means of pro- duction rai)idly increased, competition between producers became more severe and destructive, the smaller producer had to make room for the larger, and the chances of the individual em- ployee to rise into the ranges of the employers became less and less, and so again classes de- veloped, a smaller employer's class and a larger class of employees. But while under feudalism men were fairly well satisfied within their class as long as they were justly and fairly treated in accordance with their position in society, it was not so in capitalistic society. A change had occurred in man and that change was education. The power which had brought about this change was the steam-engine. Through it man graduated from laborer to machine-tender. Before the days of the steam-engine, man, assisted by animals, supplied the power wliich society demanded in raising and moving things, on farms, and in industries. The steam-engine relieved man of mechanical power, supplying it a hundred- and a thousand-fold, and man became the operator, 15 AMERICA AND THE NEW ^ EPOCH the director, and the tender of the machine. But a higher inteUigence and higher knowledge is re- quired to direct the mechanical work of the machine than is required in direct labor, and thus the steam-engine, while increasing the power of man a hundred- and a thousand-fold, made education a necessary requirement of his industrial usefulness. In the feudal age education was unnecessary for the efficiency of the serf's labor, and was ob- jectionable because making him dissatisfied with his lot, and all that was necessary was a little religion to hold out the hope of reward in heaven for his earthly' toil. ~But capitalism re- quired some education for the efficiency of the workers, and the industrial development of a country is closely measured by the eflBciency of its public school system. Thus, even in Russia, where an autocratic government opposes the education of the masses, industrial corpora- tions maintain schools for their employees. But education, however limited, meant some reasoning power, and very soon the question was asked why the unsuccessful majority should not share in the good things of life appropriated by the minority, and the answer was — organi- zation. But there could be no force behind such 4G THE OTHER SIDE organization so long as it appeared to the in- dividual employee a shorter and more promis- ing way to rise personally into the employer's class, and then share in the exploitation of his former co-workers. Just as under feudalism the serf had an op- portunity to rise into the ruling class — but the chances were very remote — so under capitalism the wage-earner by exceptional opportunity, intelligence, and initiative could rise into the em- ployer's class, but the chances became increas- ingly remote, and such terms as "wage-slavery" arose to represent the situation, and the con- ception of a "class consciousness" of the pro- letarian wage-earner found its expression in industrial organization as labor unions, and po- litical organization in the socialistic parties, which took up the representation of the class of the exploited, in opposition and often in hos- tility to the exploiting class, in fighting for a greater share of the industrial production. It is significant that in countries in which the seg- regation into working class and ruling class had become sharpest, and the chances to rise from class to class least, the industrial or political organization of the workers has become most powerful, while in America the vast natural re- 4 47 AMERICA AND THE NEW EPOCH sources and the opportunities of a new country make the chance to rise to independence by no means negligible even to-day, and the organi- zation of the wage-earners never has reached an effective political stage, "class consciousness" has not become the slogan of a powerful polit- ical party, such as it did, for instance, in Ger- many, already a generation ago. ,_JWith the further development of industrial capitalism gradually the corporation took the place of the large individual employer, and the "employer's class" steadily dwindled down. First, individual personality still dominated the corporation: the "Harriman" roads, the "Van- derbilt" interests, etc. But with the death of the men who organized the corporations, their management became impersonal, and so we find to-day, at least in those industries in which the development has progressed furthest, no more a class of employers and a class of em- ployees, but impersonal capital is the employer, and all the human beings, from the president to the laborer, are employees. With the wide range of activities of the employees of capital, there are wide differences of interest, but the sharp dividing line between the antagonistic interests of hostile classes is decreasing, and 48 THE OTHER SIDE "class consciousness" is beginning to become an anachronism. To revive it as an antagonism between salaried officials and wage-earners, or between shop and office force, fails where many a journeyman's earnings exceed the salaries of the younger men of the clerical force, and the distinction between office and shop is often lower pay and less freedom of the young man in the office force than in the shops. It is again sig- nificant how large a membership in the Social- ist party of America is represented by office men and by the middle class, the small individ- ual producers and farmers of the West, an element which hardly comes under the wage- earner's conception of "class consciousness," but which is rather more a survival of the past daj^s of small capitalistic production than the beginning of the realization of a co-operative commonwealth . With the corporate organization of modern industry the employer's class is disappearing, and impersonal capital becomes the only em- ployer, and all people connected with the in- dustries become employees. But impersonal capital is owned by persons, a capitalist class, and the war of the classes would continue be- tween the capitalist class and a class-conscious 49 AMERICA AND THE NEW EPOCH working class. But who are the capitalist class? The idle rich? r)pa)0)V TratSe? TTij[xaTa, at best, harmless fools, living on the wealth created by their fathers? They fill the newspapers with foolishness and scandal, they figure in campaign speeches "to paint a moral, to adorn a tale.'* But industrially, socially, politically they are a negligible factor, they are no part of our na- tional and industrial life, and are being rapidly exterminated by race suicide. No movement could derive its inspiration from a fight against them. Then there are the great financiers and multi-millionaires. They may be in some in- stances oppressors and exploiters, may be a national menace and require to be fought, but they are merely the managers, the employees of their capital, working just as any other em- ployee in the service of capital, and bound by it in their action. Furthermore, capital is scat- tered from the single family house with its heavy mortgage, of the workman, or the few hun- dred dollars in the savings-bank, to the em- ployee who receives from interest and divi- dends an appreciable addition to his salary or wages, and finally the employee whose salary is small compared with his income from stocks and bonds. Where, then, is the dividing line 50 THE OTHER SIDE between capitalist and worker, the line which distinguishes the one class from the other? And with the decreasing returns from smaller capital holdings, a class distinction becomes less and less possible. But all argumentation against the existence of classes, all evidence that there are no classes in modern individualistic society does not wipe out the fact felt by all that there is a sharp dividing line going through modern society, that there is a large majority which does not, and cannot, look at things in the same way as the minority — a minority controlling and satisfied with existing society, therefore patriotic in the defense of this society, and a majority of workers who in sentiment and feeling are hostile to in- dividualistic society, feel that society does not give to them what they believe themselves en- titled to — however dull and indistinct this feeling may often be. Over most of the workers hangs throughout all their life the fear of unemployment, the fear of sickness, the fear of old age. No matter how well paid their work, no matter how much they have saved and placed in the savings-bank or invested in a small living-place, they never can lose the fear that a long-extended period of un- 51 AMERICA AND THE NEW EPOCH employment, a long sickness, may wipe out their small savings and bring them face to face with starvation ; that in their old age, the poor- house or the private charity of their relatives will be their lot. It is these three great fears which distinguish the majority from the minority and make the former dissatisfied with society. This is the cloven foot of the individualistic era — "the devil take the hindmost." Individualistic so- ciety has failed to guarantee and insure the right to live of all human beings, and all those who feel that they may some time in their life be caught as "the hindmost" naturally do not look on our society as the best possible, are not patriotic in its defense. Only one nation, Germany, has eliminated these three great fears, has established the prin- ciple, "the right to a living, and the duty to work," by an effective unemployment insurance, sickness insurance, and old-age insurance, and the result we see to-day. Whatever views we may hold on the merits of the issues of the war, there can be no denying that all the Germans, from the socialist working-man to the aristo- cratic nobleman, stand back of the nation, while we have seen the disinclination of the 52 THE OTHER SIDE English worker aguinst voliintury enlistment, his opposition against fighting for his nation, which finally made conscription necessary. Un- fortunately, we see the same here in our coun- try: in all the present patriotic revival, in the preparedness movement, the workers and their organizations are conspicuously absent. In this respect the individualistic era has failed to satisfy the masses of the people, has failed to give them what they demand — social and industrial safety; and no talk about un- desirable paternalism, un-American ideas, etc., can obscure the fact of the failure. This is the great problem modern industrial society has to face and to solve. It is the driving force back of the "social activities" which the modern corporation is beginning to recognize. The success of industrial capitalism is based on mass production by subdivision of labor. But with the increasing subdivision of work, the character of the work has changed, and with it the attitude of the worker toward it: the creative element has gone out of the work. To the shoemaker of former days who, from the leather as raw material, made a complete pair of shoes, to the machinist who collaborated 53 AMERICA AND THE NEW EPOCH in building a finished machine, there was a sat- isfaction in the creation of things which neces- sarily gave them an interest in their work. This satisfaction in his work the piece-worker cannot feel, who makes the same seam in every one of the thousand shoes which pass before him in the shoe-factory, or who makes the same slash in every one of the carcasses passing be- fore him in the slaughter-house, or drops the same bolt into the same kind of hole in the automobile factory. Thus the work of the world has largely changed to labor, to drudgery, and the interest which the worker of former days found in his work he now seeks outside of the working- hours. As the result, the demand for shorter working-hours, though existing in former times, has become more insistent now, with the changed character of most of the industrial work. It is often difficult for the captain of industry, the leader, or manager to understand why the employees demand the eight-hour work- ing-day, while he himself is working twelve or fourteen hours without complaint: but let us distinguish between creative work and monot- onous labor, and the matter is clearer. Of the twelve hours of the director, two hours may be 54 THE OTHER SIDE uninteresting mechanical routine, drudgery; ten hours supervision, administration, direction of work — in short, creative activities; and com- pared with the piece-worker the balance of labor stands two hours against eight hours. It is true, very few of the workers in our modern industries who continuouslj'^ do the same thing over and over again would be willing to change to an occupation where they have to use their intelligence to a greater extent, where a variety of action requires reasoning alertness. But this merely means that their intelligence and ability have never been developed sufficiently to appre- ciate creative activity, or has been dulled and depressed at an early age; but it does not make the continuous repetition of piece-work any less monotonous. Thus the demand for a shorter workday, backed by the employees' organizations, has steadily decreased the hours of work until now we are approaching the eight-hour workday as standard, have reached it in many occupations, and realize that it is coming inevitably through- out all the industrial world. There can be no serious objection against the eight-hour day, provided that it is universal. The objection is the handicap in industrial competition met by a AMERICA AND THE NEW EPOCH corporation with eight-hour working-day against a corporation working nine or more hours. Thus if the efforts toward a shorter working-day could be more equahzed, directed against those em- ployments in which the working-hours are long- est, there would be much less justified opposition than now. It is often stated that by the increased ef- ficiency of work the same amount can be done in eight hours as in nine hours. It is true that the working efficiency increases with the short- ening of the hours, and the reduction from nine hours to eight hours may not mean a decrease of one-ninth of the output, but it means a very substantial decrease of output, sufficient to prove a serious handicap in competition with a nine-hour day. Shorter hours means a decreased plant effi- ciency, and thus an increase of the fixed cost representing interest and depreciation of the factory investment, as the plant remains idle a larger part of the time, and this will have to be met by operating in several shifts, utilizing the plant by several successive sets of em- ployees. But what afterward? With the eight-hour day accomplished, the demand will not stop, 56 THE OTHER SIDE but go toward a seven-hour day, six-hour day, etc. What is the ultimate Hmit at which the decrease of the hours of labor will have to stop, if our civilization shall continue? Or what readjustment in our social organization, in our standards of living, will be required to accommo- date it to a greatly reduced labor supply? One hundred years ago the average workday was ten to eleven hours. Now it is eight to nine hours. It has decreased about 20 per cent. The productivity of work in these hundred years, by the steam-engine and the infinite num- ber of inventions and improvements following it, has increased at least tenfold — probably more nearly twenty- to thirty-fold, but for il- lustration let us assume only a tenfold increase. Thus with only an average of one hour's work during the day we could now produce as much as we did in ten hours, a hundred years ago, and could live in the same manner, with the same standard of living which satisfied us a hundred years ago, by working only one hour per day. But we have realized on the increased productivity of man, not by a reduction of the hours of labor, but by an increase of consump- tion of commodities. In short, we are getting the benefit by receiving many more commod- 57 AMERICA AND THE NEW EPOCH ities — eight to ten times as much as satisfied us a hundred years ago — but not by working much shorter hours. But is this abnormal in- crease of consumption, which in spite of the enormous increase of productivity requires al- most the same working-hours, desirable, or is it even desired? Is it not to a large extent arti- ficial and unnatural, fostered by the producers? A considerable part of the world's work of to- day is not production, but is advertising, selling, and all those activities which essentially aim to increase the production by stimulating de- mand where it did not exist. By these artificial means the consumption has been increased to keep up with the production at the old rate of working-hours. Suppose now we should discontinue consump- tion of things we never cared for until somebody persuaded us to their use and be satisfied with only four to five times the commodities with which we got along one hundred years ago; this would give a four-hour workday. But the elimination of all the work in making us use more than we have the inclination to use, by advertising, selling, etc., the elimination of ob- vious waste and inefficiency, of duplication of production, etc., would still further materially 58 THE OTHER SIDE reduce the work of the world, so that, even without discounting the improvements and in- ventions which are continuously being made, we can see a world with a standard of living fully as satisfactory as ours, but working only four hours a day, only two hundred days during the year — that is, taking a week or two for recreation at every holiday, and two months' vacation in summer. This is far away, but it Is no idle dream, for we only need to look across the water, toward war-torn Europe, and we can see conditions which, with the waste of war removed, would not be far different from the above. While the entire world is called upon to feed and supply the Allies during this war, the blockaded Central Powers feed and supply themselves and get along fairly successfully, as far as we can see, and what little trouble there is is due to imper- fections of the new organization rather. But if we allow for the millions of producers who are kept in productive idleness in the armies, and supported by the best the nation has in food, physical and medical supervision, the other millions wasting their energy in unproductive work in making ammunition and war materi- als, subtract the mass of products consumed by 59 AMERICA AND THE NEW EPOCH these unproductive elements, the consumption of the peaceful part of the nation certainly amounts to materially less than four hours per day productivity. Thus, under better skies, the same organization of production and elimi- nation of waste would make the above dream a reality. And indeed, when we think of it, we see that our present civilization is frightfully inefficient in man getting the best use of his life. We live to work, a fool once said, and millions of other fools have since repeated it. But why should we live, if labor is all. we get out of it? The Church of the Middle Ages was consistent in saying that we live to work and thereby to earn eternal reward in heaven ; but in the mod- ern age, where transcendental religion and social life are kept separate conceptions, we do not live to work and sleep, or eat to work, but we work and sleep and eat to live; life has become the object; its aim, to make the best of ourself as individual, as member of the family, the com- munity, the nation, and of mankind in general. If, then, work and sleep and eating are neces- sities of living, the efficiency of life is measured by how large a part of our life we have at dis- position for ourselves, not occupied by neces- 00 THE OTHER SIDE sities, but free to fulfil life's aim as we under- stand it. In spite of the enormous advance of the human race in the hist hundred years, the in- crease of efficiency of life has been very small. Let us look at it. One hundred years ago, man worked ten hours a day, an average, for 300 days during the year. This meant: Total number of hours (luring the year 3Gj X 24 = 8,7C0 hours = 100% Sleeping (8 hrs. i)er day) and eating (1 hr.) ... 365 X 9 = 3,985 hours = 37.5% Working, 300 days at 10 hours 300 X 10 = 3,000 hours = 34.4% Leaving available as free time 2,475 hours = 28.1% At present, with an eight-hour workday, work- ing 300 days during the year, it means: Total number of hours (luring the year 305 X 24 = 8,760 hours = 100% Sleeping (8 hrs. per day) and eating (1 hr.) ... 365 X 9 = 3,285 hours = 37.5% Working, 300 days at 8 hours 300 X 8 == 2,400 hours = 27.4% Leaving available as free time 3,085 hours = 35.1% Thus, in spite of the great progress during the last hundred years, the efficiency of human life has increased only from 28. 1 per cent, to 35.1 61 AMERICA AND THE NEW EPOCH per cent., or by 7 per cent., and still is ex- tremely small, 35.1 per cent. If, however, we could fully realize on our advancements, with a four-hour day and 200 working-days, the record would stand: Total number of hours during the year 3G5 X 24 = 8,760 hours = 100% ' Sleeping (8 hrs. per day), eating (1 hr.) 365 X 9 = 3,285 hours = 37.5% Working, 200 days at 4 hours 200 X 4 = 800 hours = 9.1% Leaving available as free time 4,G75 hours = 53.4% This would give 53.4 per cent, as a maximum possible efficiency, under the present conditions of human knowledge, nearly twice as much as one hundred years ago, and would be an advancement worth while.