The Ideal of a Leisure State
G. K. Chesterton
Among the strange and rather stiff antics of the rather antiquated art of party journalism is the duty laid upon the good party man of trying to disagree with his opponents when they have the impudence to agree with him. He not only has to insist that they are wrong; he has to deny their right to be right. Even when you have to admit that your antagonist is talking sense, even when you pride yourself on talking exactly the same sense, you have to deny that it is sensible of him to talk sense. Or you deny that it is sense in the same sense; or sense in the true sense of the word. More often you simply imply that it is inconsistent and irrational in him to talk sense, because it is his whole duty and high function in State to talk nonsense. It is his business to be wrong; it is his business to be beaten; he is the invisible playmate, who sides with the Frenchman and never can win. That he should suddenly side with his own country, or win the approval of his own critics, is regarded as a form of cheating. Twice lately I have noticed a party leader saying things that any sensible person would say, but not allowed by the Opposition Press to say them, because he was not supposed to be a sensible person. One of them was when Mr. Baldwin pointed out the appalling peril of directly declaring war on all Trade Unionists at the very moment when we are supposed to be persuading them not to be Bolshevists. The other was when Mr. George Lansbury said to the effect that the dole was a deplorable necessity, because every man in the world ought to grow up expecting to work. But the conventional journalists, instead of agreeing with Mr. Landsbury, sneered at him for agreeing with them.
Well, that way of working against Bolshevism will have its Nemesis; the Nemesis of all nonsense, which is neglect. A new generation will go straight to the problems and forget all about the party quarrels. If we want to know what the future will be like, as far as anybody can know it, we must begin at the springs of thought and theory, the sources of the river, and not merely potter about in the swamps where it straggles away into its last labyrinthine delta of lobbying and intrigue. We must consider what ideas there are in the world at present, and in what way they are likely to mould the future. Now Mr. George Lansbury, whether consciously or not, really touched on one of the most important of these intellectual conflicts, which so often precede political and even military conflicts. And the position which he took up upon that matter was that of a conservative or a traditionalist; or as some on the otherside would say, of a Tory.
The controversy I mean has nothing to do with Socialism or Capitalism. It is a question about the nature of human life, even of ideal human life, which cuts across all these things and would probably divide Socialism into two camps. It is something which some speculators have already begun to discuss under the name of “The Leisure State.” It is something which was suggested, perhaps, in the title and work of Mr. H.G. Wells called “The World Set Free.” It does not mean the world set free from the sceptre or the sabre; it means the world set free from the spade and the ploughshare. It means that it might be possible so to organize machinery that the whole life of man on the earth should be one of leisure and not of labour. I will not pretend to discuss whether it would be mechanically possible. But it is time we began to discuss whether it is morally desirable. I am entirely at one with the Socialists in wishing to give most men less work and some men more work. But the abstract question propounded here is not that question; it is whether, if we could, we would give nobody any work. It assumes for the sake of argument the dark and dubious principle that labour-saving devices will save labour. It asks whether, even then, we always want to save labour. We talk of paying too much for labour; should we or should we not pay too much for idleness?
Many of the idealists can only conceive of an idle humanity as an ideal humanity. They talk as if no man could ever rest until he reached Utopia; or as if a really long holiday were something like heaven, utterly distant and divine. Their social philosophy is that of the hearty and humorous epitaph of the charwoman, who had gone on to do nothing for ever and ever. But even now it is by no means certain that those who are not charwomen really become any more hearty and humorous by doing nothing for ever and ever. A vast amount of stuffy and sentimental humbug has been uttered in favour of the Gospel of Work. As it was said that Carlyle talked a great deal in praise of silence, it may also be respectfully affirmed that he idled away a great deal of his time meditating on the virtues of labour. Work is not necessarily good for people; overwork is very bad for people; and both often begin with a bad motive and come to a bad end. Many a modern industrialist has prided himself on being as industrious as he was industrial. And it meant little more than that he was ready to sweat himself, as well as his neighbors, when he wanted to swindle his neighbors. Many a modern man has lived by the Gospel of Work, when it meant the spirit that will always work against the Gospel. A great deal of harm has been done by setting up these oily machines as models for mankind. I would not point to these ideal industrious men; I would turn away men’s eyes from the painful picture of the Industrious Apprentice; I would veil their faces lest they should be disturbed by the repulsive appearance of the man who Attended These Classes and Is Making Big Money Now. I would hastily remove this deplorable person; but would gently remind the Utopians that he is not the only kind of person who is deplorable.
Now, the Leisure State exists already. It can be represented at any sort of function such as is called a State Banquet or State Ball. The World Set Free exists already. It exists in the world that specially claims to call itself the world. It exists in the world which Socialists and Utopians specially claim to call worldly. We are in a position even now to judge pretty well, in a general fashion, what is the effect on human beings having nothing particular to do. The “world” is already set free, if that is freedom; but is it exactly what the Utopians want to demand as freedom? It is undoubtedly an idle society, but is it an ideal society? Is Utopia to be found in Belgravia any more than in Bohemia? Are the rich all good or better than anybody else? Are they all clever or cleverer than anybody else? Are they even all free and happy, or all freer and happier than anybody else? And though there are good and clever and free and happy people among the idle rich, as there are among the idle poor, not to mention the industrious poor, I think it is broadly true that most of us have found that the most sincere and sensible people were people who earned their own living. I agree therefore with Mr. Landbury in differing from those who would perpetuate eternal unemployment combined with universal doles, and who call that ignominious combination The World Set Free.
But there is another strong objection which I, one of the laziest of all the children of Adam, have against the Leisure State. Those who think it could be done argue that a vast machinery using electricity, water-power, petrol, and so on, might reduce the work imposed on each of us to a minimum. It might, but it would also reduce our control to a minimum. We should ourselves become parts of a machine, even if the machine only used those parts once a week. The machine would be our master; for the machine would produce our food, and most of us could have no notion of how it was really being produced. A free man would rather be a peasant rising at dawn to put more work on his own field. In other words, in the social formula to which we are all accustomed, the peasant has control over the means of production. The occasional adjunct to the intermittent machine would have no control whatever over his own leisure, but less over his own life. Machinery organized in that fashion would have to be organized from an official centre; and no more controlled by its adjuncts than the tiniest of the little wheels can wind a watch. The leisured persons might be many things in their long hours of leisure. It is not impossible, by the parallel of plutocracy, that they might be profligates, perverts, drugtakers, dram-drinkers, pessimists, and suicides. But they might all be poets and artists and philosophers. They would not be citizens.
-from The Illustrated London News, March 21, 1925
The Ideal of a Leisure State
G. K. Chesterton
Among the strange and rather stiff antics of the rather antiquated art of party journalism is the duty laid upon the good party man of trying to disagree with his opponents when they have the impudence to agree with him. He not only has to insist that they are wrong; he has to deny their right to be right. Even when you have to admit that your antagonist is talking sense, even when you pride yourself on talking exactly the same sense, you have to deny that it is sensible of him to talk sense. Or you deny that it is sense in the same sense; or sense in the true sense of the word. More often you simply imply that it is inconsistent and irrational in him to talk sense, because it is his whole duty and high function in State to talk nonsense. It is his business to be wrong; it is his business to be beaten; he is the invisible playmate, who sides with the Frenchman and never can win. That he should suddenly side with his own country, or win the approval of his own critics, is regarded as a form of cheating. Twice lately I have noticed a party leader saying things that any sensible person would say, but not allowed by the Opposition Press to say them, because he was not supposed to be a sensible person. One of them was when Mr. Baldwin pointed out the appalling peril of directly declaring war on all Trade Unionists at the very moment when we are supposed to be persuading them not to be Bolshevists. The other was when Mr. George Lansbury said to the effect that the dole was a deplorable necessity, because every man in the world ought to grow up expecting to work. But the conventional journalists, instead of agreeing with Mr. Landsbury, sneered at him for agreeing with them.
Well, that way of working against Bolshevism will have its Nemesis; the Nemesis of all nonsense, which is neglect. A new generation will go straight to the problems and forget all about the party quarrels. If we want to know what the future will be like, as far as anybody can know it, we must begin at the springs of thought and theory, the sources of the river, and not merely potter about in the swamps where it straggles away into its last labyrinthine delta of lobbying and intrigue. We must consider what ideas there are in the world at present, and in what way they are likely to mould the future. Now Mr. George Lansbury, whether consciously or not, really touched on one of the most important of these intellectual conflicts, which so often precede political and even military conflicts. And the position which he took up upon that matter was that of a conservative or a traditionalist; or as some on the otherside would say, of a Tory.
The controversy I mean has nothing to do with Socialism or Capitalism. It is a question about the nature of human life, even of ideal human life, which cuts across all these things and would probably divide Socialism into two camps. It is something which some speculators have already begun to discuss under the name of “The Leisure State.” It is something which was suggested, perhaps, in the title and work of Mr. H.G. Wells called “The World Set Free.” It does not mean the world set free from the sceptre or the sabre; it means the world set free from the spade and the ploughshare. It means that it might be possible so to organize machinery that the whole life of man on the earth should be one of leisure and not of labour. I will not pretend to discuss whether it would be mechanically possible. But it is time we began to discuss whether it is morally desirable. I am entirely at one with the Socialists in wishing to give most men less work and some men more work. But the abstract question propounded here is not that question; it is whether, if we could, we would give nobody any work. It assumes for the sake of argument the dark and dubious principle that labour-saving devices will save labour. It asks whether, even then, we always want to save labour. We talk of paying too much for labour; should we or should we not pay too much for idleness?
L’Ideale di uno Stato dell’Ozio
G. K. Chesterton
Tra le strane e piuttosto rigide contorsioni della piuttosto antiquata arte del giornalismo di partito c’è il dovere imposto al buon uomo di partito di cercare di dissentire dai suoi avversari quando essi hanno l’impudenza di essere d’accordo con lui. Egli non solo deve insistere che hanno torto; deve negare loro il diritto di aver ragione. Persino quando devi ammettere che il tuo antagonista parla con senno, persino quando ti fai un vanto di parlare esattamente con lo stesso senno, devi negare che sia sensato da parte sua parlare con senno. Oppure neghi che sia senno nel medesimo senso; o senno nel vero senso della parola. Più spesso lasci semplicemente intendere che è incoerente e irrazionale da parte sua parlare con senno, perché è suo intero dovere e alta funzione nello Stato parlare senza senno. È suo compito aver torto; è suo compito essere sconfitto; egli è il compagno di giochi invisibile, che si schiera col francese e non può mai vincere. Che egli si schieri all’improvviso con il proprio paese, o guadagni l’approvazione dei propri critici, è considerato una forma di imbroglio. Due volte di recente ho notato un capo di partito dire cose che qualsiasi persona sensata direbbe, senza che la Stampa d’Opposizione gli permettesse di dirle, perché non lo si supponeva persona sensata. Una fu quando il signor Baldwin fece notare lo spaventoso pericolo di dichiarare direttamente guerra a tutti i Sindacalisti proprio nel momento in cui si suppone che li stiamo persuadendo a non essere Bolscevichi. L’altra fu quando il signor George Lansbury disse, in sostanza, che il sussidio era una deplorevole necessità, perché ogni uomo al mondo dovrebbe crescere aspettandosi di lavorare. Ma i giornalisti convenzionali, invece di concordare con il signor Lansbury, lo schernirono per aver concordato con loro.
Ebbene, quel modo di operare contro il Bolscevismo avrà la sua Nemesi; la Nemesi di ogni insensatezza, che è la dimenticanza. Una nuova generazione andrà dritta ai problemi e dimenticherà del tutto le contese di partito. Se vogliamo sapere come sarà il futuro, per quanto chiunque possa saperlo, dobbiamo cominciare alle sorgenti del pensiero e della teoria, alle fonti del fiume, e non semplicemente gingillarci nelle paludi dove esso si disperde nel suo ultimo labirintico delta di manovre di corridoio e d’intrigo. Dobbiamo considerare quali idee ci sono nel mondo al presente, e in che modo è probabile che plasmino il futuro. Ora il signor George Lansbury, consapevolmente o no, toccò davvero uno dei più importanti di questi conflitti intellettuali, che così spesso precedono i conflitti politici e persino militari. E la posizione che egli assunse su quella materia era quella di un conservatore o di un tradizionalista; o come alcuni dall’altra parte direbbero, di un Tory.
La controversia che intendo non ha nulla a che fare con il Socialismo o con il Capitalismo. È una questione riguardo alla natura della vita umana, persino della vita umana ideale, che taglia trasversalmente tutte queste cose e probabilmente dividerebbe il Socialismo in due campi. È qualcosa che alcuni speculatori hanno già cominciato a discutere sotto il nome di “Lo Stato dell’Ozio.” È qualcosa che fu suggerito, forse, nel titolo e nell’opera del signor H. G. Wells intitolata “Il Mondo Liberato.” Non significa il mondo liberato dallo scettro o dalla sciabola; significa il mondo liberato dalla vanga e dal vomere. Significa che potrebbe essere possibile organizzare i macchinari in modo tale che l’intera vita dell’uomo sulla terra fosse di ozio e non di fatica. Non pretenderò di discutere se sarebbe meccanicamente possibile. Ma è tempo che cominciassimo a discutere se sia moralmente desiderabile. Sono interamente d’accordo con i Socialisti nel desiderare di dare alla maggior parte degli uomini meno lavoro e ad alcuni uomini più lavoro. Ma la questione astratta qui proposta non è quella questione; è se, potendo, vorremmo non dare a nessuno alcun lavoro. Assume, per amor di argomentazione, l’oscuro e dubbio principio che i dispositivi salva-fatica risparmieranno fatica. Chiede se, persino allora, vogliamo sempre risparmiare fatica. Parliamo di pagare troppo per il lavoro; dovremmo o non dovremmo pagare troppo per l’ozio?
Many of the idealists can only conceive of an idle humanity as an ideal humanity. They talk as if no man could ever rest until he reached Utopia; or as if a really long holiday were something like heaven, utterly distant and divine. Their social philosophy is that of the hearty and humorous epitaph of the charwoman, who had gone on to do nothing for ever and ever. But even now it is by no means certain that those who are not charwomen really become any more hearty and humorous by doing nothing for ever and ever. A vast amount of stuffy and sentimental humbug has been uttered in favour of the Gospel of Work. As it was said that Carlyle talked a great deal in praise of silence, it may also be respectfully affirmed that he idled away a great deal of his time meditating on the virtues of labour. Work is not necessarily good for people; overwork is very bad for people; and both often begin with a bad motive and come to a bad end. Many a modern industrialist has prided himself on being as industrious as he was industrial. And it meant little more than that he was ready to sweat himself, as well as his neighbors, when he wanted to swindle his neighbors. Many a modern man has lived by the Gospel of Work, when it meant the spirit that will always work against the Gospel. A great deal of harm has been done by setting up these oily machines as models for mankind. I would not point to these ideal industrious men; I would turn away men’s eyes from the painful picture of the Industrious Apprentice; I would veil their faces lest they should be disturbed by the repulsive appearance of the man who Attended These Classes and Is Making Big Money Now. I would hastily remove this deplorable person; but would gently remind the Utopians that he is not the only kind of person who is deplorable.
Now, the Leisure State exists already. It can be represented at any sort of function such as is called a State Banquet or State Ball. The World Set Free exists already. It exists in the world that specially claims to call itself the world. It exists in the world which Socialists and Utopians specially claim to call worldly. We are in a position even now to judge pretty well, in a general fashion, what is the effect on human beings having nothing particular to do. The “world” is already set free, if that is freedom; but is it exactly what the Utopians want to demand as freedom? It is undoubtedly an idle society, but is it an ideal society? Is Utopia to be found in Belgravia any more than in Bohemia? Are the rich all good or better than anybody else? Are they all clever or cleverer than anybody else? Are they even all free and happy, or all freer and happier than anybody else? And though there are good and clever and free and happy people among the idle rich, as there are among the idle poor, not to mention the industrious poor, I think it is broadly true that most of us have found that the most sincere and sensible people were people who earned their own living. I agree therefore with Mr. Landbury in differing from those who would perpetuate eternal unemployment combined with universal doles, and who call that ignominious combination The World Set Free.
But there is another strong objection which I, one of the laziest of all the children of Adam, have against the Leisure State. Those who think it could be done argue that a vast machinery using electricity, water-power, petrol, and so on, might reduce the work imposed on each of us to a minimum. It might, but it would also reduce our control to a minimum. We should ourselves become parts of a machine, even if the machine only used those parts once a week. The machine would be our master; for the machine would produce our food, and most of us could have no notion of how it was really being produced. A free man would rather be a peasant rising at dawn to put more work on his own field. In other words, in the social formula to which we are all accustomed, the peasant has control over the means of production. The occasional adjunct to the intermittent machine would have no control whatever over his own leisure, but less over his own life. Machinery organized in that fashion would have to be organized from an official centre; and no more controlled by its adjuncts than the tiniest of the little wheels can wind a watch. The leisured persons might be many things in their long hours of leisure. It is not impossible, by the parallel of plutocracy, that they might be profligates, perverts, drugtakers, dram-drinkers, pessimists, and suicides. But they might all be poets and artists and philosophers. They would not be citizens.
-from The Illustrated London News, March 21, 1925
Molti degli idealisti riescono a concepire un’umanità oziosa soltanto come un’umanità ideale. Parlano come se nessun uomo potesse mai riposare finché non abbia raggiunto l’Utopia; o come se una vacanza davvero lunga fosse qualcosa come il paradiso, del tutto lontano e divino. La loro filosofia sociale è quella del gioviale e umoristico epitaffio della donna delle pulizie, che era passata a non far nulla nei secoli dei secoli. Ma persino ora non è affatto certo che coloro che non sono donne delle pulizie diventino davvero più giovali e umoristici non facendo nulla nei secoli dei secoli. Una vasta quantità di stantia e sentimentale fandonia è stata pronunciata a favore del Vangelo del Lavoro. Come si è detto che Carlyle parlò moltissimo in lode del silenzio, così si può anche rispettosamente affermare che egli oziò via moltissimo del suo tempo meditando sulle virtù della fatica. Il lavoro non è necessariamente buono per la gente; il troppo lavoro è pessimo per la gente; ed entrambi cominciano spesso con un cattivo motivo e giungono a una cattiva fine. Più di un moderno industriale si è fatto un vanto d’essere tanto industrioso quanto era industriale. E ciò significava poco più che egli era pronto a far sudare sé stesso, così come i suoi vicini, quando voleva truffare i suoi vicini. Più di un uomo moderno è vissuto secondo il Vangelo del Lavoro, quando esso significava lo spirito che lavorerà sempre contro il Vangelo. Molto danno è stato fatto erigendo queste untuose macchine a modelli per l’umanità. Io non indicherei questi uomini industriosi ideali; distoglierei gli occhi degli uomini dal penoso quadro dell’Apprendista Industrioso; velerei i loro volti perché non siano turbati dal ripugnante aspetto dell’uomo che Frequentò Questi Corsi e Adesso Sta Facendo un Sacco di Soldi. Rimuoverei in fretta questo deplorevole personaggio; ma ricorderei gentilmente agli Utopisti che egli non è l’unica specie di persona che sia deplorevole.
Ora, lo Stato dell’Ozio esiste già. Può essere rappresentato in qualsiasi sorta di funzione come quella che si chiama un Banchetto di Stato o un Ballo di Stato. Il Mondo Liberato esiste già. Esiste nel mondo che specialmente pretende di chiamare sé stesso il mondo. Esiste nel mondo che i Socialisti e gli Utopisti specialmente pretendono di chiamare mondano. Siamo in grado persino ora di giudicare abbastanza bene, in modo generale, quale sia l’effetto sugli esseri umani del non avere nulla di particolare da fare. Il “mondo” è già liberato, se quella è libertà; ma è esattamente ciò che gli Utopisti vogliono reclamare come libertà? È indubbiamente una società oziosa, ma è una società ideale? Si trova forse l’Utopia a Belgravia più che a Bohemia? Sono i ricchi tutti buoni o migliori di chiunque altro? Sono tutti intelligenti o più intelligenti di chiunque altro? Sono persino tutti liberi e felici, o tutti più liberi e più felici di chiunque altro? E benché vi siano persone buone e intelligenti e libere e felici tra i ricchi oziosi, come ve ne sono tra i poveri oziosi, per non parlare dei poveri industriosi, io penso sia largamente vero che la maggior parte di noi ha trovato che le persone più sincere e assennate erano persone che si guadagnavano da vivere. Concordo perciò con il signor Lansbury nel dissentire da coloro che vorrebbero perpetuare l’eterna disoccupazione unita a universali sussidi, e che chiamano quell’ignominiosa combinazione Il Mondo Liberato.
Ma c’è un’altra forte obiezione che io, uno dei più pigri di tutti i figli di Adamo, ho contro lo Stato dell’Ozio. Coloro che pensano che si potrebbe fare sostengono che un vasto macchinario che usi elettricità, forza idraulica, petrolio, e così via, potrebbe ridurre al minimo il lavoro imposto a ciascuno di noi. Potrebbe, ma ridurrebbe anche al minimo il nostro controllo. Diventeremmo noi stessi parti di una Macchina, anche se la Macchina usasse quelle parti solo una volta alla settimana. La Macchina sarebbe il nostro padrone; poiché la Macchina produrrebbe il nostro cibo, e la maggior parte di noi non avrebbe alcuna nozione di come esso venisse realmente prodotto. Un uomo libero preferirebbe essere un contadino che si leva all’alba per mettere altro lavoro sul proprio campo. In altre parole, nella formula sociale a cui siamo tutti avvezzi, il contadino ha il controllo sui mezzi di produzione. L’occasionale aggiunta alla Macchina intermittente non avrebbe alcun controllo sul proprio ozio, ma ancor meno sulla propria vita. Un macchinario organizzato in quel modo dovrebbe essere organizzato da un centro ufficiale; e non più controllato dalle sue aggiunte di quanto la più minuscola delle piccole ruote possa caricare un orologio. Le persone oziose potrebbero essere molte cose nelle loro lunghe ore d’ozio. Non è impossibile, per il parallelo della plutocrazia, che potrebbero essere libertini, pervertiti, drogati, beoni, pessimisti e suicidi. Ma potrebbero anche essere tutti poeti e artisti e filosofi. Non sarebbero cittadini.