Part 3

It is of the first importance to realize that each perceptible social change involves many other perceptible changes, that, in Spencer’s happy analogy, the social constitution is a web, no strand of which can be moved without moving others. The changes we have tried to forecast cannot come effectively before the subsidence of the wave of fierce competition which was partly smoothed down by the trusts. In many businesses, competition in drumming and advertising is still at the point where it costs more to sell goods than to make them and hosts of men accomplish only the neutralizing of each other’s efforts. The rationalizing of competition and the growth of a coöperative spirit would release men for other pursuits; and the growth of intelligence in learning what is to be had and discriminating what is best, must diminish the billions spent on advertising. These additions to productive labor and capital must diminish the ills which have made Socialism seem desirable as well as inevitable.

Suppose we do our best to realize these possibilities to the full. Suppose a Socialist then revisits the earth two or three hundred years from now. He may see in full operation what he has always declared impossible, a democratic individualism. Instead of an impoverished and disappearing farming class, he will find a populous countryside divided into small homesteads, and run at a handsome profit by specialists in intensive agriculture. Instead of a factory or mining proletariat, hungry and rebellious, he will find great wholesale establishments owned and run by a handful of engineers, turning out pulp, cloth, metal and standard parts for machinery, turning the products over to millions of independent artisan establishments supplied with cheap and plentiful power, to be worked into countless articles of art and utility. He will look to the processes of exchange to find great financial magnates and railway barons on the one hand, and a horde of miserable clerks and small shopkeepers in difficulties on the other. Instead, he will discover a network of voluntary credit and sales associations, information bureaus, individually owned freight automobiles (and possibly airships); with perhaps a few regulated railway lines and pneumatic delivery tubes, run by a prosperous association of experts. He will look for the old-time “servant class,” and find that the scientifically trained housewife, with a power plant in the cellar, can run her own house, thank you, and consider it the most honorable of professions. Seeing everything so effectively managed for the happiness of the people, he will look to see in the government the universal owner and employer of his dreams, but he will find instead a clearing house of help and information, which puts its knowledge of efficient management, of technical processes, of economic and sociological conditions, at everyone’s disposal, and comes to the rescue in the rare case of poverty, failure or crime. Will he rejoice that the world is happy, or be sorry that it is not happy his way? If I know the Socialist, he will claim that he was right all along, and that this state of society is really Socialism. Let him claim the word; I call it democratic individualism, because it means the greatest possible _distribution_ of economic power and function consistent with efficient production.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] See H. de B. Gibbins, _Industry in England_, p. 382.

[2] See W. H. Dawson, The Evolution of Modern Germany, chapter XIII. On the general subject of agricultural decentralization see Prof. V. G. Simkhovitch, _Marxism versus Socialism_.

[3] Thirteenth Census, _Agriculture_, chapter I.

[4] Thirteenth Census, _Manufacturing_. Handicrafts and establishments producing less than $500 worth of goods per year are not considered.

THE REPUBLIC OF MEGAPHON

Persons of the Dialogue: _Socrates_. _Chærephon_. _Megaphon_.

SCENE: At first a street in the Metropolis,[5] and afterward the house of Megaphon.[6]

TIME: Year 4 of Olympiad 25 after American Independence.

The narrator and leading person of the dialogue is Socrates.

I. I had gone into the city on the Fourth day of the month to witness how they would observe the Festival, and was returning at my leisure, when Chærephon, catching sight of me at a distance, ordered his son to run forward and bid me wait for him. And the boy, taking hold of me by the cloak behind, said: “My father bids you wait for him.”

“By all means,” said I.

And not long afterward Chærephon came.

“Socrates,” he said, “you seem to be returning from the city.”

“You guess not badly,” I replied.

We continued on our way, and soon came near the crossing of two streets. Here, a boy was standing at the curb, calling loudly to all who passed.

“What are the words he cries?” I said to Chærephon.

“The _Republic_,” he answered. “It is the new paper, that will come forth daily, and is to help the demos; for you know that until now it has come but thrice a week, and has been for the few. Have you not heard of it?”

“Yes,” I said, “and I have thought about it much. Henceforth we shall have the news every day, and in a different way.”

We had now come to the boy, and were passing him.

“Here, boy,” I said, “give me your paper.”

He gave it to me, still crying as before.

“And how much must I pay you for it?” I asked.

“An obol,”[7] he replied.

“Very well,” said I, and gave him the obol.

“Is it not cheap?” said Chærephon. “And do you not think the demos has great reason to rejoice? For now many more will be able to read of what takes place.”

“It is indeed cheap,” I said, “and now the demos may indeed read all it will. But I do not think it may rejoice.”

“Do I hear aright?” he asked. “Can it be you do not like the change?”

“You do hear aright,” I answered. “I do not like it.”

“But ’twill educate the demos,” he said.

“It will,” I said, “and that is why I do not like it. My thought is that ’twill educate them wrongly, and we shall have trouble from it. But let us discuss the matter, if that will please you.”[8]

* * * * *

II. “Most gladly,” he said. “But look, yonder is Megaphon’s house, and I told him I would stop. Will you go with me, and there discuss in the hearing of us both?”

“Yes,” I said, “most willingly.”

We drew near, and Chærephon beat gently upon the door with his sandal,[9] and we waited until someone should come from within.

The son of Chærephon, first asking his sire’s permission, now joined other boys who were vying one with another in a game of making noises.

Now the playing of the game was on this wise. Chærephon’s son would take from the store in his pocket a crimson paper, tightly rolled, containing an explosive. This he set off by means of a thread which projected from the end of the roll, and contained the same explosive, but not so much. The thread was called the fuse, and the roll a “cracker.” When lighted with a match, the fuse would quickly carry fire to the cracker, which, straightway bursting, made a loud report. But first Chærephon’s son would send it flying through the air, lest it harm his fingers. Yet there were lads of hardihood who boldly held the cracker as it burst, and remained unharmed; and these were the winners of the game.

This at that time was for young and old the manner of celebrating the nation’s freedom. For the people had once been in thrall to the tyrant.

* * * * *

III. While we yet stood looking on at this sport, the daughter of Megaphon opened to us.

“My sire is within,” she said; and pointed to the door of the megaron.

The door was open, and we entered. At first we saw no one, but after some moments became aware of Megaphon’s legs, which alone could be seen of all his body. For the rest of his body was hidden by a printed sheet. This sheet, we saw, was the _Republic_; for the letters were large.

“Hail, O Megaphon!” I cried in a loud voice.

Megaphon lowered the sheet until his face appeared, and then leaped up.

“A thousand pardons, Socrates and Chærephon!” he cried. “I was deep in the paper, and did not notice. Pray seat yourselves.”

We seated ourselves in front of him, and not far off.

Megaphon laid aside the paper, as it seemed, unwillingly.

“What were you reading, O Megaphon?” Chærephon inquired, to start our discussion. For he knew well, without the asking.

“The _Republic_,” Megaphon replied. “Ah, I see you have one, Socrates. Is it not fine, and should we not rejoice? The demos will surely make great progress now, and our nation will become much greater than ever, for we shall have news every day, and nearly all will be rich enough to read, and nearly all will thus become intelligent.”

Chærephon gazed at me.

“But Socrates does not approve,” he said.

“No,” I said, “by Zeus, no!”[10]

Megaphon was greatly astonished.

“I do not understand,” he said. “Will not knowledge be spread among our people as never before, and will not our demos become well informed and thinking citizens, no longer a prey to their own ignorance or to the deceits of their enemies? For we shall now have the news at trifling cost, I think. Is it not so, O Socrates?”

“At trifling cost, most certainly,” I answered. “To speak truly, the cost is even too little. But shall we discuss the matter?”

“By all means,” he said.

“And will you listen to me with patience,” I said, “and answer what I ask, and not grow angry?”

“We will do as you say,” he said. “Will we not, Chærephon?”

Chærephon agreed.

* * * * *

IV. “Well, then,” I began, “I suppose we may assume that the _Republic_, and others--for without doubt there will in time be many like it--will be taken daily into the homes of the demos, as well as of the few. Is it not so?”

Megaphon assented.

“Then let us speak of the matter in this fashion,” I said. “Suppose you had an acquaintance who came to visit you every day in the year, and was admitted not only to yourself, but freely to your wife and your sons and daughters. On entering, he first makes a great show of importance and a great deal of noise by calling out in an exceedingly loud voice that a cruel murder has been done, or a savage battle has been fought, or a shocking accident has happened, or a great robbery has been attempted, and comes up quite close to all of you and points out in every detail just how the accident or the crime took place. After this, he tells you of lesser crimes and mishaps--of thefts, adulteries, and murders among the poor and vicious, and the like; and then he tells with great exactness of many brutal contests--of the pancration,[11] of boxing with the cestus,[12] and of the fights of cocks and dogs. He tells you also of the life of the idle, who do nothing but eat and drink, passing the nights in waking and the days in sleep, consuming in pleasures they do not need the substance they have not earned. And suppose he counsels you to hate not only them, but all who possess greater store of goods than you. And then suppose he will tell you of various things which he says you should not lack, now screaming loudly that these goods will be sold for less than they cost, and now whispering other things of the sort with equal earnestness, and with equal intent to deceive you. Suppose he not only tried to sell you good and necessary wares, but that which he knew you did not need, or was worthless. And suppose he told you much that was true of your neighbors but was no concern of his, and repeated much that was false and harmful. And suppose his words were often vulgar and many times profane, and that his jests were coarse, and even obscene, and you should come upon him murmuring to your wife and children such things as the tongue should in no wise repeat.”[13]

Megaphon seemed not quite content with my words.

“Suppose,” I said, “that he did and said such things in your house, not twice or thrice in the year, but daily, ever boasting of his virtues, and telling you all that he was your true and faithful friend. Would you not think the advantage of his presence doubtful?”

“I should,” said Megaphon, “if he were all you say he would be; and I should not let him remain, but kick him out of doors without delay, and forbid him to enter again. But surely there are other matters he would relate, such as we should be glad to hear of, and we should not need to listen to all he said, nor buy all he would have us buy.”

“No,” I said, “doubtless not; but his company would be unpleasant, even if you neither bought nor heeded. For he would offend you often, and waste your time.”

“And the _Republic_, I think, is not wholly like the acquaintance you describe,” Megaphon said. For he bore ill what I said.

“But it will be so in no long time,” I said.

“Will you tell us why?” he asked.

* * * * *

V. “I will, assuredly,” I said. “Let us inquire farther. Just now I paid for the _Republic_ one obol, did I not? and heretofore it cost two? The price is now but half, and soon it will be still less. For so at least they promise. Is it not true?”

“It is,” Megaphon said. “And justly, as I think. For the demos should be encouraged to read.”

“Very well,” I said, “when the former price is cut in half, will it not be impossible to gain as much? For gain is the purpose of the newspaper, and its owners will not publish it unless they receive gain, and the greatest possible amount. If they cut the price in half, they will of a surety use other means to bring them the money thus lost. Will it not be so?”

“But more people will buy and read,” he said.

“Yes,” I said, “they will. But more men and better machines will be needed, and the paper will be much larger, as you already see. Without doubt, they will not be able to give for so small a sum a paper so large.”

“You seem to speak truly,” he said.

“Then whence will come the gain I speak of?” I said. “Will it not come perforce from advertisements? At least, so I have read, for you see I know what is being talked. And how shall they increase the number of those who advertise, and make the price greater? For both, I think, will be necessary. Will it not be by having more who purchase and read? For those who buy and sell goods will pay a higher price only if more are to read their advertisements. Do you think I am right, Megaphon?”

“So it appears to me,” he said.

“Then,” I said, “is it not clear that we shall have a change in the newspaper’s ways? Until now, the newspaper has had its gains mostly from those who read, and but little from those who advertise; but henceforth it will be contrariwise. It will not enrich itself from readers--except as their number brings more and better-paying advertisements.”

“And there is another thing,” Chærephon said. “The character of the readers will also change. There will henceforth be more of them untaught and unthinking than before, because of the cheapness of the paper. Will it not be so?”

“Most certainly,” I said; “you have anticipated my thought.”

* * * * *

VI. “Then,” I continued, “if this is as I say, will it not of necessity follow that henceforth the paper will be so ordered as to suit the tastes of the many rather than of the few?”

“I do not disagree,” said Megaphon.

“For,” Chærephon said, “you cannot suit at once the tastes of both the ignorant and the intelligent.”

“And what are the tastes of the demos?” I said. “Does not the demos like excitement, and will not the newspaper set forth in detail every manner of accident and crime and gossip? Doubtless you have seen the demos, how it behaves when the dead are to be seen, or when the wedding of some rich person takes place, or evildoers are being led by the Eleven to be punished.”

“Yes,” he said, “I have. The demos has but poor taste in many matters. The demos likes above all to be entertained, and it delights in things that are strange and horrible.”

“True,” I answered, “and the demos does not like to think; for that is a difficult sort of labor. It will be necessary to omit that which would please the few, and put in its place that which is amusing and easy to understand. And there will doubtless also be much that is unseemly and shameful to read.”

I took up the _Republic_ from Megaphon’s side.

“Indeed,” I said, “that of which I speak has already begun. I will read you what stands written here:

‘An important witness against Bloombury Bright, Priest of the Pericles Avenue Temple of Zeus, in Bright’s trial before fifteen priests of the State Synodos, was Theodora wife of Diodoros Ploutocrates. She charged that in the month Anthesterion the priest embraced and kissed her twice. On a second visit, when he found her wearing a chiton,[14] she says, he was more violent in his attentions.’

“Do you not think this very vile, O Megaphon?” I asked.

“Most vile indeed,” he said.

“And would you like to have your daughter read it?”

“No, by Zeus!” he cried. “For there is no good in it, but only evil. It would befoul her mind.”

* * * * *

VII. “And there will be another consequence,” I said. “Will not the makers of the paper think they must make it attractive to the demos at all costs, and will not the gatherers and arrangers of the news learn to do this by adding to or taking from the truth, or even by inventing news; so that we shall not be able to distinguish between the true and the false?”

“It will be,” he said, “as you say; at least in the case of the paper that tries above all to please the demos.”

“There will thus be deception in two ways,” I said: “they will omit, and they will invent and add. But this is not the only evil from which we shall suffer. For consider the editor’s page. The newspaper has always been, it says, the moulder of the demos’s thoughts; and so, indeed, it was, so long as its editors were leaders of great causes, and thought strongly, and were masters of their own words. But how, when it must make its gains from those who buy and sell, and not from the followers of truth, shall it be able to attack or to favor whatsoever and whomsoever it please? How shall it be free to attack evil rich men whose advertisements it must have, or oppose a party or a movement cherished by them? And how in turn shall it be free to attack the inconstant demos itself, by whom it must be purchased? For it will not be conducted on principle, and look for its gains to those who read, but commercially, and look to those who advertise.”

“I do not see,” Megaphon said, “how it can avoid these evils.”

* * * * *

VIII. “Does it not seem clear, then,” I said, “that the editor’s page will be secretly open to purchase, and no longer truthful? For ‘We must live,’ the owners will say.”

“Yes,” Chærephon replied; “and I have another thought. I am thinking that much harm may come because we shall have news confused with advertisement, or with secret attempts of various kinds.”

“You think rightly,” I said. “We shall have persons or groups of persons making deceitful use of the news in advertising their products, or in courting the favor of the demos for some project. Indeed, I think that something might occur like this: those who sell goods for our triremes and hoplites might pay out great sums for the secret aid of the newspapers in rousing the passions of the demos by appeal to its natural hatred and fear of the barbarians. For then the State would increase the number of ships and soldiers of every kind, and thus they would sell more goods, and make greater gains. Or a maker of some food or medicine, or a false follower of Asklepias, might do the like; and the demos, which is ever seeking after cures for real and fancied ills, would soon enrich him. Can you not think that this could happen?”

“I can indeed,” Megaphon said.

“Then,” I said, “have we not proved that the newspaper will be used to educate the demos wrongly--I mean by giving too much news of one kind, and not enough of another, and exaggerating, coloring, and otherwise falsifying the truth, and pretending to be a friend when it is an enemy, and selling itself, whenever it safely can, to him who will give most?”

“I will admit what you say,” Megaphon said; “for I am eager to hear whither your discussion will lead.”

* * * * *

IX. “It appears, then,” I said, “that there is some doubt as to this education of the demos you rely upon, as to whether it will be as nearly perfect as you think. But let us go farther. I have spoken until now of matters of fact. Shall I now say something of matters of taste?--if you will yield to me in this, that taste has much to do with the worth of nations.”

“I will concede it,” he said.

“Consider, then,” I began, “the language which the newspaper will employ in its effort to please the demos. Will it not be of necessity untaught and rough, and often coarse, like the speech of the demos itself? For if it is to attract the demos, it must be easy to read, and of spicy savor, thus to say, and must not speak after the manner of the few. For the demos will have nothing superior to itself. We shall thus find ourselves at cross purposes; our didaskaloi will be trying to teach our epheboi to speak and write purely, and the newspaper will teach them to speak and write like the demos. Of a truth, men who write purely and well will not be employed, but only those whose manner is of the demos. And again, they will cost the owners less. Do you think I am right?”

“I grant it,” Megaphon said.

“And consider not only the news and the manner in which it is written, but the advertisements also, of what nature they will be. Will not many worthless things be advertised in a bold and shameless manner? and will not the effect of this be to confirm bad taste on the part of the demos, and beget and encourage it among the few who are better taught? Let me see your paper again.”

Megaphon gave me the paper.

I opened it, and, having searched some moments, “Listen,” I said:

‘Oh, say boys, don’t forget that sore, sweating, tired feet often have a wonderful penetrating and terrific odor which is very unpleasant in the home or with company. Asklepian’s Antiseptic cures all the trouble. Pharmakopoles Pharmakopolides’.

“Pharmakopoles moves in our best society, as the saying is, and is foremost amongst those who sacrifice to Zeus. Does it not seem to you that we have here an example of that which must be expected?”

“Undoubtedly,” said Megaphon and Chærephon together.

“And will not also the art of the newspaper often be vulgar? For it will be used to entertain the demos.”

“We agree with you,” they said.

“And they will try to amuse the children, too,” I said. “Our young ones will be taught many things they should not know, and the ugly will seem fair to them, and the fair ugly.[15] For that which is vulgar will seem to have power when seen in print.”

* * * * *

X. “And I think we shall have something still worse,” I said. “For I fear our morals, too, will stand in some danger. Consider the advertisements of those who would sell the barbarian potion,[16] and the weed of Lethe,[17] and other like doubtful wares, and among them books professing to tell of such mysteries as only sires should tell their sons, and mothers their daughters. Will not our epheboi be constantly assured how harmless these things are, and how pleasant to have, and thus become convinced that they are good rather than evil? For the printed word is a power, as I said, and we fear less the dangers we see most often.”

“At least,” said Chærephon, “there will be danger if we do not guard ourselves.”

* * * * *

XI. “You speak truly,” I said; “there will. But I bethink me of still another danger now, and one that will affect not individuals, but classes. Shall I speak of it?”

“Go on,” Chærephon said.