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By allying the latter plan with the workers’ idea of a corporative General Strike the Syndicalists have evolved the scheme of “The Day” which is to overthrow civilization. Of course the workers themselves have no conception of the real design, and each time that a General Strike is attempted doubtless imagine it to be a brilliant inspiration on the part of their leaders in view of a sudden emergency. “The miners are striking for a higher wage. Let us stand by them! Happy thought — let all workers present a solid front to the oppression of Capitalism! One — two — three — all together — strike!” .
Thus playing on the simple camaraderie of the workers, and urging them to solidarity in the interests of Labour, the Syndicalists hope to drive them onwards into the mfelee which is to end in no amelioration of the workers’ lot, but simply in the destruction of the existing social order.
What is to avert the catastrophe? Only greater knowledge on the part of Labour. The first thing, then, is to dispel the illusion that the General Strike is a modern and progressive measure. The workers should be told not only its real purpose but its history; they should be shown that, instead of being the outcome of any present emergency, it is an old scheme that has been going on for at least fifty years and has been turned down as impracticable by all intelligent groups of workers. Let us now follow the vicissitudes of the idea throughout the last half-century.
As a revolutionary method Mermeix suggests that the idea of the General Strike may be traced to the phrase of Mirabeau: “This people whose mere immobility would be formidable”.
Now Mirabeau, as we know, was an Illuminatus. Had then even the plan of the General Strike as the weapon wherewith “to deal the deathblow to civilization” entered into the “gigantic conception” of Weishaupt? In a vague sense this is possible, but in its details the General Strike is, as I have shown, essentially a measure adapted to modern conditions.
The plan was first definitely proposed at the Congress of the Internationale in Brussels in 1868, when the declaration was made that “if production were arrested for a certain time the social body could not exist, and that it was only necessary for producers to cease to produce in order to make the personal and despotic enterprises of Government impossible”. From this date the idea of the General Strike was current, and in 1873 the Belgian section of the Internationale invited the other sections of the association to prepare for the attempt to bring it oil, but the Congress of Geneva declared it to be at present impracticable.
In 1884 the Government attempted to arrest class warfare by founding “Bourses du Travail”, or Labour Exchanges, which should not only provide work but maintain harmony between employers and employed. But the Bourses, like the Chambres Syndicales, soon became hot-beds of revolutionary intrigue, and in 1888 the plan of the General Strike was pressed with renewed vigour by the Anarchist carpenter Tortelier.
After achieving some success in the faubourgs of Paris, Tortelier this same year came to London, where he preached his gospel before a Labour Congress. But “the apostle of the General Strike”, with his thick-set figure, bull’s neck, hoarse voice, and slovenly attire, whose aspect suggested that of a satellite of Marat, was not taken seriously by British working-men and met with scant success.
In France, however, the cherished scheme of Tortelier found increasing favour. “The idea of the General Strike”, says Mermeix, “charms the working masses because it is so simple”. And in France there are always the anarchic elements who crave to faire sauter le bazar. Thus at a congress of members of the Syndicates and of the Bourses held at Nantes in 1894 the policy of the General Strike was definitely adopted by 65 votes against 37. In the following year the formidable association known as the Conf fédération Générale du Travail was founded by the extremists with the General Strike as the principal plank in its platform. From this date, 1895, onwards a seven years’ war was waged between the C.G.T. and the Bourses, until in 1902 the Bourses were finally extinguished and Syndicalism was left in triumphant possession of the field.
Several attempts have already been made to bring about the revolutionary General Strike — in Spain in 1874, in Belgium in 1902, in Sweden in 1909, in South Africa in 1911, in France in 1920, but so far the firmness of governments and the resistance of the community at large have averted the climax of the “Grand Soir” dreamt of by the Syndicalists, and the principal sufferers have been the strikers themselves. But this fact in no way deters the advocates of the General Strike from pursuing their purpose, which has now become the accepted policy of the C.G.T. At the same time other revolutionary measures have been adopted with a view to fretting away the foundations of Capital. Thus after 1889, when the dockers of Glasgow enforced their demands for higher pay by “going slow”, the policy of Ca’ Canny became a definite part of the Syndicalist programme. In 1897 sabotage, which had hitherto been regarded as a measure of violence to be employed in the open warfare of revolution, was introduced as a method of passive resistance. Railwaymen had discovered that with a pennyworth of a certain ingredient engines could be put out of working, and the bright idea of applying this method to other instruments of labour met with an enthusiastic response at the Congress of Toulouse in 1897. Pouget, one of its most ardent advocates, describes this incident as “the baptism of sabotage”.
One variety of sabotage known as “Obstructionism”, introduced in 1905, consists in following out regulations to the letter — “accomplishment of duty with excessive care and no less excessive slowness”. Pouget gleefully describes the inconvenience to which railway travellers may be put by this plan. For it should be remembered that the methods of Syndicalism are directed not merely against the Government or employers but against the whole community. It is therefore perfectly accurate to distinguish between Syndicalism and Socialism, because the policy of Syndicalism is avowedly anti-social and oligarchic, whilst Socialism at least professes concern for the welfare of the majority.
The plan of the General Strike further emphasized this division between the Socialists and Syndicalists. For although, as we have seen, Socialists are not unwilling to consider the idea of the parliamentary General Strike which will bring them into power, they have always continued to prefer the ballot-box as a method of procedure. As to the revolutionary General Strike, this was opposed throughout even by the followers of Marx, represented in France by the Guesdists. “I only wish some one would explain to me”, said Jules Guesde, “how breaking street lamps, disembowelling soldiers, and burning down factories can constitute a means of transforming property. We ought to put an end to all this war of words calling itself revolutionary. No corporative action, however violent, partial strike or general strike, would be able to transform property”.
Thus although the Marxians were at one with the Syndicalists in wishing to bring about the grand catastrophe, they differed only in the manner by which it was to be effected. They (the Syndicalists) said: “The catastrophe will be caused by the General Strike. It is the General Strike that will be the catastrophe”. This catastrophe is distinguished from that which is awaited by the Marxists, the Socialist politicians, in that it will not be brought about by chance, it will arise when the workmen wish it. Syndicalism disciplines the catastrophe which the Socialists await with the fatalism of marabouts.
But according to Georges Sorel the Marxians have entirely misinterpreted their master’s meaning, which in reality excluded “any hypothesis constructed on future Utopias” ; in fact, Sorel represents Marx to have actually declared that “whoever has a programme for the future is a reactionary”.
Now, of course, if Marx really said this the whole theory of Marxian Socialism is founded on a fallacy and is proved to be a system in which Marx himself never believed. But to do him justice we must recognize that there is some truth in Sorel’s contention that Marx never pretended to have devised any definite system for “the organization of the proletariat”, that he merely made of the “enormous mass” of ready-made material which he found in the British Museum for his great work on Capital, and that it was his disciples who read into it ideas for the reconstruction of the social system.
On these grounds Sorel is able to claim Marx as his ally, that is to say, as a pure destructionist — not as a Syndicalist, for nowhere in Marx’s writings could one find any hint of the Syndicalist theory of industrial organization; but above all it is as the great promoter of the class war that Sorel finds in Marx his true affinity. To this one point the apostle of Syndicalism is ready to sacrifice all other considerations. “The scission of classes”, he declares, “is the basis of all Socialism; the one thing to be avoided is social peace”.
Indeed, Sorel’s one fear is that modern nations, stupefied with humanitarianism — the phrase might be taken straight from Nietzsche — may prevent the conflict. To guard against this danger every effort must be made to keep up the class war, not only by inciting Labour to attack Capital, but by stiffening the resistance of Capital to the demands of Labour. “The more ardently Capitalistic the bourgeoisie, the more will the proletariat be filled with a war-like spirit confident in its revolutionary force, the more will the movement be assured”.
It is necessary, therefore, by violence “to force Capitalism to occupy itself solely with its material role”, so as “to give back to it the warlike qualities it once possessed”. Employers of labour must be made to understand “that they have nothing to gain by works of social peace or by democracy”. “All then”, Sorel concludes hopefully, “can be saved if by violence it (the proletariat) succeeds in consolidating class divisions and in restoring to the bourgeoisie something of its energy; that is the great aim towards which must be directed the thought of all men who are not hypnotized by the events of the day but think of the conditions of the morrow”.
Such, then, is the aim of Syndicalism as set forth by its chief exponent, Georges Sorel. At first sight the one merit it seems to possess is frankness. Hitherto revolutionary writers, to whichever faction they belonged, had always professed that their system would conduce in some degree to human happiness; even the Anarchists appeared to derive enjoyment from the prospect of their lunatic dreams of the future. But Sorel promises nothing; “Utopias of easy happiness” he openly derides; even on the system of Syndicalism he has practically nothing to say — the only thing that matters is to keep up revolutionary ardour. Yet, after all, we find that Sorel is not much more honest than his predecessors, for whilst denouncing the visionary Socialists who lead the proletariat towards a mirage, Sorel goes on to admit that the General Strike, which, like Der Tag of the Germans, must ever be held before the eyes of the people, is in reality a myth. It will probably never come off, but just as the early Christians maintained their religious ardour by looking forward to the second advent, so the people must be taught to centre all their hopes on the coming cataclysm. Thus the idea of the General Strike will serve the purpose of continually unsettling industry and fretting away the foundations of Capital.
To the normal mind the theory of Sorel as set forth in the foregoing pages must of course appear unbelievable; the incredulous should therefore read his book for themselves in order to be convinced that such views can be seriously put forward. Is Sorel, however, sincere, or is he secretly an agent of reaction? The hypothesis is not beyond the bounds of possibility. At any rate if the author of Reflexions sur la violence had been put up by the Government to discredit the whole Socialist movement by working it out to a reductio ad absurdum, he could not have stated his case more ably or have offered sounder arguments for the defence of the existing order against the encroachments of so-called democracy. “Experience shows”, says Sorel, “that in all countries where democracy can develop its nature freely the most scandalous corruption is displayed without anyone considering it of use to conceal its rascalities”, and after a scathing indictment of democratic government in America and elsewhere he ends with the words: “Democracy is the land of plenty dreamt of by unscrupulous financiers”.
But it is for the parliamentary Socialists that Sorel reserves his bitterest scorn. The sole object of these people — “Intellectuals who have embraced the profession of thinking for the proletariat” — is to bring themselves into power. In reasoning on social conflicts “they see in the combatants only instruments. The proletariat is their army, which they love with the love a colonial administrator may feel for the bands which enable him to subject a great many negroes to his caprices; they concern themselves with leading it on because they are in a hurry to win quickly the great battles which are to deliver up the State to them; they keep up the ardour of their men, as the ardour of the troops of mercenaries has always been kept up by exhortations to coming pillage, by appeals to hatred, and also by small favours which already permit them to distribute a few posts”. But in reality it will not be the proletariat who will share the spoils, for the prospect on which the leaders’ eyes are fixed is “the day when they will have the public treasure at their disposal; they are dazzled by the immense reserve of riches which will be delivered then to pillage; what feastings, what cocottes, what satisfactions to vanity!”. Then, then, at last “our official Socialists can reasonably hope to achieve the goal of their dreams and sleep in gorgeous mansions”. After that “it would be very naive to suppose that people profiting by demagogic dictatorship would easily give up their advantages”.
As to the “dictatorship of the proletariat” advocated by the Socialists but “on which they do not much care to give explanations”, Sorel declares that this would be a return to the Old Régime, a plan for feudalizing Capital, and he quotes Bernstein in saying that it would end simply in the dictatorship of club orators and litterateurs. Who, he asks, is to profit by such a government? Certainly not the country, which would be ruined, “but what does the future of the country matter as long as the new régime provides a good time for a few professors who imagine they invented Socialism and a few Dreyfusard financiers?”
In the opinion, therefore, of the great Syndicalist, Jewish finance is largely interested in the triumph of State Socialism.
The inconsistency of Jaurès and other French Socialists on the question of Dreyfus is shown up in Sorel’s book by a parallel drawn from the first French Revolution, of which he ruthlessly shatters the legends and destroys the prestige of “the great revolutionary days”, and he asks why Danton, of whom Jaurès in his great history of the Revolution had made a hero, but whose conduct during the sad days of September “was not very worthy of admiration”, should be defended on the score of acting in the interests of national defence, when Jaurès himself took part against the anti-Semites who also believed they were acting in the interests of national defence in the matter of the Affaire Dreyfus. The revolutionaries were represented by Jaurès as “sacrificing immediate human tenderness and pity” for the success of the cause, but then Sorel inquires: “Why have written so much on the inhumanity of the tormentors of Dreyfus? They too sacrificed immediate human tenderness to what seemed to them the salvation of the country”.
Not only Jaurès and Clemenceau in France but the Socialists of England become in turn the butt of Sorel’s pleasantries:
“Sidney Webb enjoys a very exaggerated reputation tor competence: he had the merit of compiling uninteresting dossiers, and the patience to compose one of the most indigestible compilations on the history of Trade Unionism, but he is one of the most borné minds which could only dazzle men little accustomed to think. The people who introduced his glory into France did not understand a word of Socialism, and if he is really, as his translator asserts, in the first rank of contemporary authors of economic history, the intellectual standard of these historians must be very low”.
And Sorel adds that, in the opinion of Tarde, Sidney Webb was simply “a blotter of paper”.
In order to appreciate the antagonism between the opposing camps of Syndicalism and State Socialism it is only necessary to read Sorel’s book in conjunction with Mr. Ramsay MacDonald’s little work on Syndicalism, where “the fantastic programme of revolution produced by the Syndicalist” is admirably shown up. “If”, the British advocate of Socialism concludes, “the grand programme of Syndicalism is a mere delusion, its immediate action is mischievous. Sabotage, destruction of industrial capital, perpetual strikes injure the workers far more than any other class, and rouse in society reactionary passions and prejudices which defeat the work of every agency making for the emancipation of labour. They put labour in the wrong. The Syndicalist might be an agent provocateur of the Capitalist, he certainly is his tool”.
But in this feud between Syndicalism and Socialism — the mere continuation of the old conflict between Anarchy and Communism — it would be folly to see any security for society. The rival revolutionary camps may be — and are — bitterly antagonistic in their aims, but both will stand together for the overthrow of the existing social order, and only when the country has been reduced to chaos by revolution, or to bankruptcy and ruin by Socialist administration, will the leaders of the opposing forces take each other by the throat in a life-and-death struggle.
Although, as we have seen in the preceding pages, the root idea of Syndicalism — organization and control of industry by independent groups of workers — has somewhat been lost to sight by Syndicalist writers, who have concentrated their attention more on the revolution than on its morrow, a more constructive phase of the same theory has been inaugurated in recent years by the movement known as Guild Socialism.
Now Guild Socialism is nothing new. To any one familiar with Socialist literature the task of embarking on the gospel of Guild Socialists, as set forth in the writings of Mr. G. D. H. Cole, must appear something like sitting down to read through a Dictionary of Famous Quotations. But this is an experience to which the patient student of Socialism must resign himself, for since by the middle of the last century everything that could be said on the subject had been said already, further exponents of the creed can only dish up the cold remains left by their predecessors. The process is, however, frequently very successful; nothing is easier than to gain a reputation as a brilliant Socialist writer by simply rearranging the same theories, the same phrases, and the same catchwords in a different manner to tempt the jaded palate. Yet never have the chefs of Socialism produced a galantine to compare with that of Mr. G. D. H. Cole! Here a little bit of Lotus Blanc, there a scrap from Vidal, but, above all, solid slabs of Marx and Sorel. And all this concealed by a cunning glaze of modernity!
In reality Guild Socialism is simply Syndicalism with the addition of a State. But the State is not to exercise authority, only to act as a municipal body, also as a banker to the workers, and occasionally as umpire in industrial disputes. National finance would be decided by “a Joint Committee representing equally the State and the Guild Congress. The State would own the means of production as trustee for the community: the Guilds would manage them, also as trustees for the community, and would pay to the State a single tax or rent”.
The assurance of Guild Socialists that the Guilds would always honourably act up to their part as trustees is based on “confidence in man”, although we note that a large portion of the human race, the present employing class, is to be regarded with the blackest suspicion. Apparently the fact of becoming a “Guildsman” miraculously does away with all such characteristics as greed and self-interest. All this is pure Buchez, and we have only to turn back to page 109 of this book to see Guilds where “every man is a master” in operation, whilst Louis Blanc’s “associations of working-men”, financed by the State, demonstrate the precise system of Guild Socialism — and incidentally its failure in the past.
Unhappily it is not in the spirit of Buchez or even of the fanatic Louis Blanc that Guild Socialists set about their task. For all its professions of spirituality and love for humanity, Guild Socialism is avowedly revolutionary. “To Revolutionary Trade Unionism the Guild idea looks”, its aim is “the realization of Industrial Unionism, the building up of the whole body of Labour into one fighting force”. Borrowing Marx’s phraseology on the doctrine of “wage-slavery”, it sets out to promote class hatred of the most virulent description and advocates strikes to overthrow the Capitalist system. In its denunciations of State Socialism the influence of Sorel is clearly detected.
The only point, then, in which Guild Socialism shows itself superior to Syndicalism is that, instead of concentrating solely on destruction and the General Strike, it makes some plans for the “morrow of the revolution”.
In its conception of guilds of busy workers co-operating in a spirit of fraternity to make a success of their trade, it takes us back to the original idea of Syndicalism — Proudhon’s old simile of the hive where we see in imagination the swarms of happy bees flitting through the summer sunshine laden with honey for the comb, full of joy in their labours.
Yet all that is to be said in favour of the industrial system that Guild Socialism advocates can equally be said of Co-operation. Co-operative industry exemplified by such schemes as profit-sharing, co-partnership, etc., is simply Guild Socialism without its economic fallacies — and also without revolution. This is precisely why co-operation finds in Socialists and Syndicalists alike its bitterest opponents.
But there is also a f urther difference between Co-operation and Guild Socialism. Co-operation is an honest movement, for it has always been willing to put its theories to the test by inaugurating industries on a co-operative basis. Sometimes these experiments have failed, sometimes they have triumphantly succeeded. Co-operation has not been proved a failure.
But it will be noticed that neither Syndicalists nor Guild Socialists ever propose to start industries on the lines they advocate, but always to “expropriate” by violence those already in existence and hand them over to the workers: In this respect their record compares unfavourably with that of Socialists. The earlier Socialists, whose sincerity we cannot doubt, did attempt to carry out their schemes by means of Communists’ Settlements; Syndicalism ventures on no such experiments. This is the more significant in that the reason given by Socialists for their failures in the past does not apply to Syndicalism. For if one is tactless enough to question Socialists on these abortive efforts one is inevitably met with the stock reply : “Oh, of course Socialism cannot exist in isolated communities; in order to test its efficacy it must be adopted by the State”. Now although we know that it was not through outside opposition or competition but from internal disintegration that these settlements went to pieces, it is nevertheless obvious that State Socialism can only be practised by a Socialist State. This condition, however, is quite unnecessary to the existence of Syndicalism, since the system it advocates is to consist of autonomous groups of workers independent of State control. There is therefore no reason why these should not exist under the present regime. What is there to prevent a syndicate of miners from taking over a mine, or of factory workers buying a factory, and running it on Syndicalist lines? The huge funds of the Trade Unions would surely be better spent in an outlay of this kind than in strikes that deplete their exchequer to no purpose. For not only would a successful experiment on these lines satisfy the aspirations of all the workers who took part in it, but would proclaim to the world the efficacy of the Syndicalist theory. Henceforth only Syndicalist industries would attract workers, and employers who continued to maintain the old system of wage payment would find themselves denuded of employees. Thus without any violence, without the shedding of a drop of blood, the whole industrial system could be revolutionized.
Why is this not done? Simply because the leaders of Syndicalism know that it could not succeed. They are well aware that an industry which adopted the principle of control by all the workers would come to grief as surely as a ship that adopted the plan of navigation by all the crew. In a word, they do not believe in the theories they teach.
One experiment founded to a certain extent on Syndi- calism may, however, be quoted. This was the settlement inaugurated by William Lane in Paraguay at the end of the last century. Lane, an English journalist who had settled in Australia, appears to have been a perfectly honest man who had become deeply imbued with the doctrines both of Karl Marx and of Syndicalism. Hence he believed that “the factory-hand was the rightful owner of the factory, that the sheep-shearer was entitled to the full profits of the shearing industry, that the legal owners of all forms of property were robbing the manual workers of their dues”. Lane, therefore, entered whole-heartedly into the great Syndicalist strikes which at this date of 1890 were paralysing the trade of the country. But perceiving the futility of this method of warfare — which had the effect of reducing the high wages of Australian workers to the level of forty-five years earlier — Lane decided to found a workers' paradise in another land. Accordingly at the end of 1892 he set sail with 250 faithful followers for Paraguay, where he started a colony under the name of “the New Australia” a few miles from Asuncion.
The subsequent adventures of the settlers have been vividly described by Mr. Stewart Grahame in a narrative which is much more amusing than Three Men in a Boat, and has the additional merit of being true. It should be read by every one interested in Socialistic ventures, for only a brief résumé can be given here.
At first everything promised well; the colonists entered into possession of 350,000 acres of the very finest land in Paraguay, with pasturage sufficient to keep at least 70,000 head of cattle, and since all were filled with “communal ardour”, and also with the warmest confidence in their leader, there seemed no reason why a flourishing settlement should not result. But precisely the same experiences befell William Lane as had befallen Étienne Cabet forty-four years earlier. The colonists before long took turns in quarrelling amongst themselves and in accusing Lane of tyrannizing over them. The man who worked arduously for eight hours in the vegetable garden envied the more fortunate fellow who spent his day riding about the pastures herding cattle. The cowboy, on the other hand, considered that the schoolmaster had a considerably easier job, and he was perhaps moved to compare his lot with that of the colonist whose principal duty appeared to be to blow the dinner horn.
Inevitably bitter charges of favouritism were levelled at the head of Lane and at the heads of the foremen in charge of every industry. “We have surrendered all civil rights and become mere cogs in the wheel”, wrote one of the colonists who had come to New Australia to find joy in “work by all for all”. “In fact a man is practically a slave. Lane does the thinking and the colonists do the work. Result, barbarism”.
At the end of fourteen months Lane found nimself obliged to expel a number of malcontents; in the following year (1894) no less than a third of the colony seceded of their own accord. “We came”, said one, “to found Utopia and we have succeeded in creating a Hell upon Earth”. But on the arrival at this juncture of 190 new-comers, who had been attracted to the New Australia by delusive reports, Lane was himself deposed, and started off at the head of a few followers to found another settlement, which he named Cosme. For a few years the two colonies struggled on in misery, but finally in 1899 Lane abandoned his experiment at Cosme and returned to Australia. By dint of employing native labour on the hated wage system they had set out to destroy, the Cosmians partly succeeded in restoring their shattered fortunes; but before long the Socialist principle was recognized as a failure and abandoned by both settlements in favour of Individualism.
From this moment the energy of the colonists revived. In an incredibly short space of time houses shot up surrounded by well-tilled kitchen gardens ... Very soon the grass lands were once more dotted with cattle ...; in a word, New Australia became “an average community of sane, sober, hard-working, self-respecting farmers, living at peace with one another and taking for their motto: “What we have we hold!”
The experiment of New Australia offers an interesting demonstration of Proudhon’s theory of the hive and the bees when carried out to its ultimate conclusion. For in New Australia, as in all other communal settlements, the principal difficulties encountered were the lack of public spirit and the inclination to “slack”. “There is absolutely no regard for common property”, one member of the colony wrote to the Pall Mall Gazette. Moreover, “it was freely alleged by almost every colonist against some other that the latter was working less vigorously for the benefit of all than he would have done in his own interest”. Mr. Stewart Grahame goes on to show us how this lack of energy would be overcome in a Socialist State, and by a curious coincidence he illustrates the fate of “won't works” under Socialist administration by the same simile as Proudhon in a description of the massacre of the drones, quoted from Maeterlinck's La Vie de l’abeille:
“One morning the long expected word of command goes through the hive, and the peaceful workers turn into judges and executioners ... Each one is assailed by three or four envoys of justice ... Many will reach the door and escape into space ... but towards evening, impelled by hunger and cold, they return in crowds to the entrance of the hive to beg for shelter. But there they encounter another pitiless guard. The next morning, before setting forth on their journey, the workers will clear the threshold, strewn with the corpses of the useless giants.
On closer inspection the industrial system of the hive is thus seen to be less peaceful than it had been represented by the Father of Syndicalism — Proudhon. Yet all the more it demonstrates the manner in which alone Socialist or Syndicalist administration can be carried out on a large scale.