‘What’s the Constitution got to do with it?’ Ernest demanded. ‘The courts interpret the Constitution, and the courts, as Mr Asmunsen agreed, are the creatures of the trusts. Besides, it is, as I have said, the law. It has been the law for years, for nine years, gentlemen.’
‘That we can be drafted into the militia?’ Mr Calvin asked incredulously. ‘That they can shoot us by drumhead court martial if we refuse.’
‘Yes,’ Ernest answered, ‘precisely that.’
‘How is it that we have never heard of this law?’ my father asked, and I could see that it was likewise new to him.
‘For two reasons,’ Ernest said. ‘First, there has been no need to enforce it. If there had, you’d have heard of it soon enough. And secondly, the law was rushed through Congress and the Senate secretly, with practically no discussion. Of course, the newspapers made no mention of it. But we socialists knew about it. We published it in our papers. But you never read our papers.’
‘I still insist you are dreaming,’ Mr Calvin said, stubbornly. ‘The country would never have permitted it.’
‘But the country did permit it,’ Ernest replied.
‘And as for my dreaming—’ he put his hand in his pocket and drew out a small pamphlet—’ tell me if this looks like dream-stuff.’
He opened it and began to read:
‘”Section One, be it enacted, and so forth, and so forth, that the militia shall consist of every able-bodied male citizen of the respective states, territories, and District of Columbia, who is more than eighteen and less than forty-five years of age.”
‘”Section Seven, that any officer or enlisted man”—remember Section One, gentlemen, you are all enlisted men—”that any enlisted man of the militia who shall refuse or neglect to present himself to such mustering officer upon being called forth as herein prescribed, shall be subject to trial by court martial, and shall be punished as such court martial shall direct.”
‘”Section Eight, that courts martial, for the trial of officers or men of the militia, shall be composed of militia officers only.”
‘”Section Nine, that the militia, when called into the actual service of the United States, shall be subject to the same rules and articles of war as the regular troops of the United States.”
‘There you are, gentlemen, American citizens, and fellow militiamen. Nine years ago we socialists thought that law was aimed against labour. But it would seem that it was aimed against you too. Congressman Wiley, in the brief discussion that was permitted, said that the bill “provided for a reserve force to take the mob by the throat”—you’re the mob, gentlemen—” and protect at all hazards life, liberty, and property.” And in the time to come, when you rise in your strength, remember that you will be rising against the property of the trusts, and the liberty of the trusts, according to the law, to squeeze you. Your teeth are pulled, gentlemen. Your claws are trimmed. In the day you rise in your strength, toothless and clawless, you will be as harmless as an army of clams.’
‘I don’t believe it!’ Kowalt cried. ‘There is no such law. It is a canard got up by you socialists.’
‘This bill was introduced in the House of Representatives on July 30, 1902,’ was the reply. ‘It was introduced by Representative Dick of Ohio. It was rushed through. It was passed unanimously by the Senate on January 14, 1903. And just seven days afterwards was approved by the President of the United States.’5
1 A lowering of selling price to cost, and even to less than cost. Thus, a large company could sell at a loss for a longer period than a small company, and so drive the small company out of business. A common device of competition.
2 Many efforts were made during this period to organise the perishing farmer class into a political party, the aim of which was to destroy the trusts and corporations by drastic legislation. All such attempts ended in failure.
3 The first successful great trust—almost a generation in advance of the rest.
4 Bankruptcy—a peculiar institution that enabled an individual, who had failed in competitive industry, to forgo paying his debts. The effect was to ameliorate the too savage conditions of the fang-and-claw social struggle.
5 Everhard was right in the essential particulars, though his date of the introduction of the bill is in error. The bill was introduced on June 30, and not on July 30. The Congressional Record is here in Ardis, and a reference to it shows mention of the bill on the following dates: June 30, December 9, 15, 16, and 17, 1902, and January 7 and 14, 1903. The ignorance evidenced by the business men at the dinner was nothing unusual. Very few people knew of the existence of this law. E. Untermann, a revolutionist, in July 1903, published a pamphlet at Girard, Kansas, on the ‘Militia Bill.’ This pamphlet had a small circulation among working men; but already had the segregation of classes proceeded so far, that the members of the middle class never heard of the pamphlet at all, and so remained in ignorance of the law.
Chapter 9
The Mathematics of a Dream
IN THE midst of the consternation his revelation had produced, Ernest began again to speak.
‘You have said, a dozen of you tonight, that socialism is impossible. You have asserted the impossible, now let me demonstrate the inevitable. Not only is it inevitable that you small capitalists shall pass away, but it is inevitable that the large capitalists, and the trusts also, shall pass away. Remember, the tide of evolution never flows backwards. It flows on and on, and it flows from competition to combination, and from little combination to large combination, and from large combination to colossal combination, and it flows on to socialism, which is the most colossal combination of all.
‘You tell me that I dream. Very good. I’ll give you the mathematics of my dream; and here, in advance, I challenge you to show that my mathematics are wrong. I shall develop the inevitability of the breakdown of the capitalist system, and I shall demonstrate mathematically why it must break down. Here goes, and bear with me if at first I seem irrelevant.
‘Let us, first of all, investigate a particular industrial process, and whenever I state something with which you disagree, please interrupt me. Here is a shoe factory. This factory takes leather and makes it into shoes. Here is one hundred dollars’ worth of leather. It goes through the factory and comes out in the form of shoes, worth, let us say, two hundred dollars. What has happened? One hundred dollars has been added to the value of the leather. How was it added? Let us see.
‘Capital and labour added this value of one hundred dollars. Capital furnished the factory, the machines, and paid all the expenses. Labour furnished labour. By the joint effort of capital and labour one hundred dollars of value was added. Are you all agreed so far?’
Heads nodded around the table in affirmation.
‘Labour and capital having produced this one hundred dollars, now proceed to divide it. The statistics of this division are fractional; so let us, for the sake of convenience, make them roughly approximate. Capital takes fifty dollars as its share, and labour gets in wages fifty dollars as its share. We will not enter into the squabbling over the division.1 No matter how much squabbling takes place, in one percentage or another the division is arranged. And take notice here, that what is true of this particular industrial process is true of all industrial processes. Am I right?’
Again the whole table agreed with Ernest.
‘Now, suppose labour, having received its fifty dollars, wanted to buy back shoes. It could only buy back fifty dollars’ worth. That’s clear, isn’t it?
‘And now we shift from this particular process to the sum total of all industrial processes in the United States, which includes the leather itself, raw material, transportation, selling, everything. We will say, for the sake of round figures, that the total production of wealth in the United States in one year is four billion dollars. Then labour has received in wages, during the same period, two billion dollars. Four billion dollars has been produced. How much of this can labour buy back? Two billions. There is no discussion of this, I am sure. For that matter, my percentages are mild. Because of a thousand capitalistic devices, labour cannot buy back even half of the total product.
‘But to return. We will say labour buys back two billions. Then it stands to reason that labour can consume only two billions. There are still two billions to be accounted for, which labour cannot buy back and consume.’
‘Labour does not consume its two billions, even,’ Mr Kowalt spoke up. ‘If it did, it would not have any deposits in the savings banks.’