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Triumph
OF THE PAST
Fish will not live where the water is
too clear. But if there is duckweed or
something, the fish will hide under its shadow and thrive. Thus, the people will live in tranquility if
certain matters are a bit overlooked or left unheard. -Yamamoto, Hagakure
January 2006
Revisiting Ruskin, Part I
It's a pleasure to revisit Ruskin after many years. The most prescient social and economic
thinker of the nineteenth century, his writing is far ahead of its time and
ours, and his instincts are seldom wrong.
His greatest social and economic writing is Unto This Last, published
in 1862.
The Roots of Honor
He opens with this salvo:
Among the delusions which at different
periods have possessed themselves of the minds of large masses of the human
race, perhaps the most curious certainly the least creditable is the modern
soi-disant science of political economy, based on the idea that an
advantageous code of social action may be determined irrespectively of the
influence of social affection. (1;
numeric citations refer to numbered sections)
In other words, of the soul. The soul cannot be quantified, so the
"scientific" political economist leaves it out. But the soul will not be left out. It comes back and vitiates all the political
economist's results and leaves him with a "science" that has nothing
to do with reality.
Thus, the capitalist philosopher argues that the
greatest material benefit to society comes through free bargaining between a
master trying to get the most work for the least money and a worker trying to
do the least work for the most money.
But, says Ruskin, "the universal law of the matter is that . . .
the greatest material result obtainable by them will be, not through antagonism
to each other, but through affection for each other" (9) like the
affection between the commander of a regiment and his men. So why is it that "it is easy to imagine
an enthusiastic affection existing among soldiers for the colonel, not so easy
to imagine an enthusiastic affection among cotton-spinners for the proprietor
of the mill" (12)?
A precarious
situation for the worker gives no chance for this motive power to develop. Demand for labor and demand for goods are
subject to constant fluctuations. But to
allow the motive power of affection to develop, the worker needs the security
of (1) a standardized rate of pay for particular work and (2) a guarantee of
steady employment both irrespective of the vicissitudes of the market. That it prevents the growth of affection is a
sufficient indictment of the present system on ground of justice.
In regard to (1), a
given kind of work should pay an invariable, just wage; none but the best
should be engaged; and none but first-rate work should be produced. This is Ruskin's way of getting at what C. H.
Douglas would later call an "aristocracy of producers." In regard to (2), it is not implied that all
should work (quite the contrary) but that those who do should work steadily and
have regular hours. These goals are only
justice, and the master should even be ready to make personal sacrifices to
achieve them.1
The heroic possibilities of business, Ruskin says,
have been underestimated, because people have no conception what the calling of
the merchant (including the manufacturer) is.
The soldier's profession is to defend the nation, the pastor's to teach
it, the physician's to keep it in health, and the lawyer's to enforce justice
in it, and each of these must be ready to die, rather than betray his
calling. So the merchant's calling is to
provide for the nation or die trying.
And because such provision involves the agency of many lives and hands,
it becomes his duty, not only to be always
considering how to produce what he sells in the purest and cheapest forms, but
how to make the various employments involved in the production . . . most
beneficial to the men employed.2 . . . [He] is invested with a
distinctly paternal authority. . . . And as the captain of a ship is bound to
be the last man to leave his ship in case of wreck, and to share his last crust
with the sailors in case of famine, so the manufacturer, in any commercial
crisis or distress, is bound to take the suffering of it with his men, and even
to take more of it. (22)
The Veins of Wealth
The political economists' answer to the above is that theirs
doesn't pretend to be anything else than the science of getting rich and, as
such, is proven to work. But that,
Ruskin observes, is not political economy at all, it is mercantile
economy. Ruskin is here getting at the
distinction Douglas makes between real credit and financial credit:
Political economy
(the economy of a State or of citizens) consists simply in the production,
preservation, and distribution, at fittest time and place, of useful and
pleasurable things. The farmer who cuts
his hay at the right time; the shipwright who drives his bolts well home in
sound wood; the builder who lays good bricks in well-tempered mortar; the
housewife who takes care of her furniture in the parlour, and guards against
all waste in her kitchen . . . are all political economists in the true and
final sense: adding continually to the
riches and well-being of the nation. . . . But mercantile economy, the
economy of "merces" or of "pay," signifies the
accumulation, in the hands of individuals, of legal or moral claim upon, or
power over, the labour of others [i.e., money]; every such claim implying precisely
as much poverty or debt on one side, as it implies riches or right on the
other. . . . What is really desired, under the name of riches, is, essentially,
power over men. . . . The establishment of the mercantile wealth which
consists in a claim upon labour, signifies a political
diminution of the real wealth, which consists in substantial
possessions. (28, 30, 35; my italics)
Ruskin
here observes that the power of money comes from its scarcity, and he also has
a suspicion this scarcity is contrived.
He would later observe:
The strangest point in the whole matter is
that though we idlers [upper classes] always speak as if we were enriched by
Heaven, and became ministers of its bounty to you; if you ever think the
ministry slack, and take to definite pillage of us, . . . the sources of wealth
seem to be stopped instantly. (Fors Clavigera 4).
He is unaware of how it is contrived, namely, (1) the
gold standard and (2) the fact that every pound of money, by the method of its
creation, is automatically yoked to a corresponding antipound, a pound of
debt. Nevertheless, his statement paves
the way for the possibility of a new type of money that would serve political
economy (real credit), rather than forcing political economy to serve it.
"Of any given
mass of wealth," Ruskin continues,
it
is impossible to conclude, . . . merely by the fact of its existence, whether
it signifies good or evil to the nation in the midst of which it exists. . . .
Such and such strong hands [may] have been paralysed, . . .
so many strong men's courage broken, so many productive operations hindered. .
. . That which seems to be wealth may in verity be only the gilded index of
far-reaching ruin. . . . And therefore, the idea that directions can be given
for the gaining of wealth, irrespectively of the consideration of its moral sources, . . . is perhaps the most insolently futile of all
that ever beguiled men through their vices. . . . Buy in the cheapest market?
yes; but what made your market cheap? Charcoal may be cheap among your roof timbers
after a fire. . . . Thus every question
concerning these things merges itself ultimately in the great question of
justice. (38)
Money is power over
labor, and affection is a greater power over labor. Then,
since
the essence of wealth consists in power over men, will it not follow that the
nobler and the more in number the persons are over whom it has power, the
greater the wealth? Perhaps it may even
appear, after some consideration, that the persons themselves are the
wealth. . . . In fact, it may be discovered that the true veins of wealth are
purple and not in Rock, but in Flesh perhaps even that the final outcome
and consummation of all wealth is in the producing of as many as possible
full-breathed, bright-eyed, and happy-hearted human creatures. (40)
This is true political economy, the art of enriching the
nation, which generates affection, as contrasted to mercantile economy, the art
of gaining leverage over others, which does not. Thus, in the end, the soul is the only wealth
there is, and affection is the soul's motive power. Therefore, what promotes the growth of that
enriches the nation absolutely, and what hinders the growth of that
impoverishes the nation absolutely.
Qui Judicatis Terram
Ruskin defines money as "a moral or legal claim on
labor." Similarly, Douglas
describes money as an order system. His
favorite example, a railway ticket, is an order for a ride. Ruskin rejects any significant distinction
between buying goods and hiring labor.
To buy plate is to order the labor of
silversmiths; to buy velvet is to order the labor of cloth makers.
What makes a money
payment just or unjust? Reduced to its
simplest terms as a relation between two people, says Ruskin, the idea of money
is that of "a promise to some person working for us, that for the time and
labour he spends in our service to-day we will give or procure equivalent time
and labour in his service at any future time when he may demand it"
(47). This can still accommodate
progress, to wit as less and less labor is required to produce things, less
and less labor is required to be given in exchange.
Yet on this definition of just payment, a market
price or wage can be completely unjust:
I want a horseshoe for my horse. Twenty smiths, or twenty thousand smiths, may
be ready to forge it; their number does not in one atom's weight affect the
question of the equitable payment of the one who does forge it. It costs him a quarter of an hour of his
life, and so much skill and strength of arm, to make that horseshoe for
me. Then at some future time I am bound
in equity to give a quarter of an hour, and some minutes more, of my life (or
of some other person's at my disposal), and also as much strength of arm and
skill, and a little more, in making or doing what the smith may have need
of. (48)
"If we promise to give him less labour than he has given
us," Ruskin observes, we under-pay him" (47). Labor for labor as a standard means that workers should receive sufficient money to buy back the
product. This begins to come close to
Douglas.
As for the smiths out
of employ, or the workmen who do not form part of the aristocracy of producers,
Ruskin anticipates Douglas:
I should be glad if the reader would first
clear the ground for himself so far as to determine whether the difficulty lies
in getting the work of getting the pay for it.
Does he consider occupation itself to be an expensive luxury? . . . or is it rather that, while in the enjoyment even of the
most athletic delights, men must nevertheless be maintained, and this
maintenance is not always forthcoming? . . . People are loosely in the habit of
talking of the difficulty of "finding employment." Is it employment that we want to find, or
support during employment? Is it idleness
we wish to put an end to, or hunger? We
have to take up both questions in succession, only not both at the same
time. (54n.)
Previously, Ruskin
said the standard was labor for labor.
Now he seems to contradict himself, saying that even those who don't
work have a right to "maintenance."
It was left to Douglas to solve this riddle: we have received labor from the
unemployed, not directly but indirectly in the form of the still-producing
labor of the dead, the Cultural Heritage, of which every person is part
owner. If we do not return them an
equivalent, they are cheated.
Ad Valorem
Ruskin finally draws the observations made thus far into new
definitions of five key terms, thus laying the groundwork for the New
Economics.
Value. The word value comes from valere,
to be strong in life (valiant) or for life (valuable):
To be "valuable," therefore, is
to "avail towards life." . . . The real science of political economy,
which has yet to be distinguished from the bastard science, as medicine from
witchcraft, and astronomy from astrology, is that which teaches nations to
desire and labour for the things that lead to life: and which teaches them to scorn and destroy
the things that lead to destruction.
(61)
Wealth. "To be wealthy," says John Stuart Mill, "is to have a large stock of useful articles." Ruskin observes that useful means the
same thing as valuable and that to have is a graduated concept
changing with the ability to use the useful thing. Therefore, wealth is "the possession of
the valuable by the valiant" (62f.).
Price
(or Cost). "The
price [or cost] of anything is the quantity of labour given by the person
desiring it, in order to obtain possession of it." That is, either directly in the making of it
or indirectly in exchange for it.
Labor. Labor, in turn, is "the contest
of the life of man with an opposite; the term 'life' including his intellect,
soul, and physical power, contending with question, difficulty, trial, or
material force" (70).
In other words, labor
and true price (or cost) are the same thing. In the 1872 sequel to Unto This Last, Ruskin
would write: "Labour is the
suffering in effort. . . . Everything else is bought and sold for Labour, but
Labour itself cannot be bought or sold for anything, being priceless. This being the nature of labour, the 'Cost'
of anything is the quantity of labour necessary to obtain it" (Munera
Pulveris, 59f.). Again,
"The price of other things must always be counted by the quantity of
labour; not the price of labour by the quantity of other things"
(69f.). If a thing requires excessive
labor, the correct expression is not that the labor is ill paid and therefore
cheap but that the thing is dear.
Production. "Nearly all labour may be shortly
divided into positive and negative labour:
positive, that which produces life; negative, that which produces
death" (72). Production, properly
so called, signifies positive labor.
There are "two kinds of true
production, one of seed, and one of food; or production for the Ground, and for
the Mouth. . . . And since production for the Ground is only used with future
hope of harvest, all essential production is for the Mouth" (65).
The final object of
political economy, therefore,
is
to get good method of consumption, and great quantity of consumption: in other words, to use everything, and to use
it nobly. . . . Production does not consist in things laboriously made, but in
things serviceably consumable; and the question for the nation is not how much
labour it employs, but how much life it produces. For as consumption is
the end and aim of production, so life is the end and aim of consumption. . . .
There is no Wealth but Life. (76f.)
Reflections
The student of Douglas will instantly recognize kindred
ideas: the concept of an aristocracy of
producers, the distinction between real and financial wealth, the concept of
money as an order system, a suspicion that scarcity is artificial, the
distinction between employment and empayment, and consumption as the goal of
economics.
The definition and
role of labor, the concept of money as an order system, and the role of the
organization deserve special consideration.
Ruskin says labor is
the suffering in effort. If labor is the
suffering in effort, then progress consists of reducing not effort per se but
the suffering in effort. It is the
suffering in effort that makes things costly.
It is the suffering in effort for which the worker requires
compensation. Work that is a joy is
therefore not labor at all but productive leisure. It requires no compensation and does not add
to the cost of the thing produced. That
society is richest which produces all it needs with the least suffering. Douglas adopts this same philosophy, and the
idea of productive leisure is at the heart of social credit.
While both Douglas
and Ruskin conceive of money as an order system, there is a crucial
difference: Douglas thinks of money as
an order system for goods and services, while Ruskin thinks of it as an order
system for labor. Both can accommodate
progress. If an ounce of labor produces
a pound of goods, Douglas says the consumer claims the pound of goods, and
Ruskin says the consumer commands the ounce of labor.
Douglas's concern is
pragmatic: it is useful to have tickets
to distribute things. This is true even
if the things cost no labor at all to produce.
Ruskin's concern, in contrast, is about justice. He on principle defines all his concepts in
terms of the human being. That's why he
treats money as a claim on labor, rather than things. His primary concern is justice in the
relation between the producer and the consumer as human beings. Indeed, he says that the human beings are
the wealth. Consumer goods themselves
are merely capital for the producing of the real ultimate good "as many
as possible full-breathed, bright-eyed, and happy-hearted human
creatures."
Since wealth is that
which is good for life and labor is an expenditure of life, political economy
is, at root, about human energy exchange life spent and life increased. Technology, organization, and products are
all just vehicles and mediators for the real Work of a human being to become
more and more alive.
There is still
"the vexed question of the destinies of the unemployed workmen"
(54). Work, Ruskin says, is a natural
human necessity. No one is economically
superfluous. However, it may be that for
some occupations, "maintenance is not always forthcoming," and that
is the problem. Power technology doesn't
make people economically superfluous, it frees them
for higher and more distinctly human economic roles. I am certain he would echo Charles Ferguson's
observation that "a serene old woman on her dying-bed may do more for the
building of the free city than fifty navvies with
swinging mattocks."3
What frees us for these higher tasks is the labor
of the dead in the form of the Cultural Heritage, of which each person is an
heir. Therefore, not only does each
person contribute to the life of the nation directly, but each person also
contributes indirectly by putting his share of the
labor of the dead at the disposal of the nation. We can therefore fruitfully extend Ruskin's
concept of money as command over labor by tacitly including the labor of the
dead.
We want two economies: an economy of Labor Work and an economy of
Leisure Work. The economy of Labor Work
compensates work that one would not do for the pleasure of it. It pays on the basis of labor for labor, the
just wage. The economy of Leisure Work
is for work that one wants to do if only one can afford to. It pays on the basis of maintenance, an equal
dividend to each. Where is this
maintenance to come from? From the
Cultural Heritage, which frees up people for this Leisure
Work and so makes this Leisure Work possible.
My working paradigm
has long been that "money is the way society allocates the use of new
goods and services"4 that is, I start with the things. If I am to rewrite this in Ruskinian
language, I have to start with the people.
I have to assume that the things do not exist yet but will be produced
to my order.
Take Douglas's
favorite example of a railway ticket.
Does the ride that the ticket claims already exist, or not? Clearly, the ride does not exist until it
happens. I order the ride, and the staff
makes it happen. It is true that something
already exists: the trains, the tracks,
in a word, the organization. The
organization embodies many generations of past labor, so that the staff can be
poised to give a ride on demand. But the
consumer doesn't really have to worry about all that. He is only concerned with the result, the
ride. The consumer can take the
organization for granted and give orders to the staff. This is quite consistent with Ruskin's way of
looking at it.
As the organization
becomes more perfect and the quantity of labor required to produce a ride on
demand diminishes, the quantity of labor that the consumer must exchange to
obtain it should likewise naturally diminish.
Thus, in theory, progress should be all good. In fact, however, a problem arises because
what Ruskin calls the mercantile economy is a dinosaur and is holding
back all the rest of the organization.
The mercantile economy does not enable the consumer to pay (i.e., offer
current labor) only for current labor.
It requires him also to reimburse (i.e., offer current labor to) the
organization for the past labor that is part of its cost-history.
This is unjust. To obtain a thing, the consumer should not
have to offer labor equal to all the generations of labor that went into the
thing. Besides that, it is absurd. What is the organization (or for that matter,
what is the bank behind it) going to do with orders for current labor for which
it has no use?
However, suppose we think of money not as strictly
command over current labor but also command over past labor, that is, command
over the organization that stands poised to deliver. The organization is a piece of the Cultural
Heritage. The Cultural Heritage has a
mediating role between the piece of itself (the organization) and the consumer. The piece, or organization, can receive reimbursement
from the consumer for its past cost-history provided that the consumer receives
his just share of the Cultural Heritage as a whole.
Douglas
says the consumer claims the pound of goods, and Ruskin says the consumer
commands the ounce of labor. Douglas
says the Cultural Heritage is the biggest factor of production. Essentially, he is saying that the Cultural
Heritage is the producer; and that is
why he distinguishes between producers as organizations versus consumers as individuals. Ruskin, in contrast, thinks of producers as
individuals and the Cultural Heritage, the organization as merely a means. The difference is only one of language. Douglas focuses on the organization because
he wants to show how the Cultural Heritage, the organization, the means gets commandeered
by financial men who have no real interest in production.
Part 2 of this essay
will look at Ruskin's further meditations on this subject in his 1872 sequel to
Unto This Last, Munera Pulveris.
Notes
1.
"While many a zealous person loses his life in trying to teach the
form of a gospel, very few will lose a hundred pounds in showing the practice
of one" (20). Compare Douglas's
description of social credit as "practical Christianity."
2.
Note that both consumer and worker are taken care of here.
3. University
Militant, p. 88.
4. Triumph
of the Past, June 2003.
TO THE
EDITOR
I have chanced to read July Garland: A
Biography, by Anne Edwards in the 1996 paperback reprint by Orion Books.
It is, among other
things, a story of various kinds of vicious corruption in people and
organisations associated with the film star's rather short life and career; but
two things in particular struck me as being of more general interest.
One is the author's hint that Louis B. Meyer of
MGM followed a policy of making films to relieve the depression in American
people's spirits in and following the Depression. "MGM began a twenty-year cycle of what
Meyer considered clean and wholesome entertainment." That is, stories that projected "the
Hearst philosophies," in which Bank presidents and politicians fared
well," and in conjunction with simple-minded domesticity and patriotism
(pp. 43-45).
The other is that,
"Early in the thirties he [Meyer] was indicted by a Los Angeles grand jury
for conspiring to commit usury."
Of course, I cannot
tell how much, if anything, of bias is in the author's work; and I would not
wish to vilify a dead man in whom I have no interest apart from these two allegations. In particular, is the second one true? Was there at that time a law in California
against usury? How was usury defined? How did the law affect the banks? Is there still such a law? If not, what were the circumstances in which
it was repealed?
Can one of your
readers enlighten me?
Dewi Hopkins
Bangor
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