35.The commonest and the oldest type of freely associated group within the commonwealth is of course the Church, and on this point the reader may be referred to the present writer’s bookThe Church in the Commonwealth.
35.The commonest and the oldest type of freely associated group within the commonwealth is of course the Church, and on this point the reader may be referred to the present writer’s bookThe Church in the Commonwealth.
As a matter of fact, the state has always been apprehensive and suspicious of combinations of any kind within its own bounds and has endeavoured either to repress them or to establish the principle that they exist only on sufferance. But no attempts at repression when they are directed at associations that represent real human concerns have been permanently successful. The repeal in 1824 of the British Acts against combination, intended chiefly to frustrate industrial unions, whether of employers or of workers, is typical of the fate of such legislation. These Acts went against the actual facts of the human situation and naturally proved disastrous. It is in this region of industrial combinations that we have the best modern illustration of the spontaneity and inevitability of voluntary human association. In the Guild period it was broadly true that Capital and Labour being in the same hands had interests which were identical; but when power-driven machinery separated Capital from Labour and lodged them in different hands, and as the rift widened through the operation oflaissez-faire, and the interests of Capital and Labour became antagonistic, it was natural that the capitalists and the workers should severally combine in defence of their interests. The state prayed a plague on both their houses at that time, being equally afraid of both; later, the state became more complaisant to the powerful owning classes; and looked askance only at the workers’ unions—an attitude which led to a very material strengthening of the latter. This schism of Capital and Labour dominates the present social situation, and it is at this time, even more than the state, the gravest hindrance to the natural activities of social energy. Its disintegrating and antisocial effect is plain far outside the region where the immediate issue lies, and it is questionable whether an organic social life is possible until the antagonism is overcome. Something has been done to mitigate the worst asperities of this unsatisfactory position by welfare work, copartnership, profit-sharing; and still more will be done by the introduction of measures of joint control of the conditions of industry. But the fact still remains that this antithesis and separation of capital and labour is artificial and unnatural, as it is also essentially undemocratic. For power goes with ownership under the conditions imposed by the current doctrine of property; and concessions and benefits which are granted as from the voluntary bounty of the employer (however worldly wise they actually are in their intention) involve an assumption of patronage which the present temper of the workers makes entirely unreal and obsolete. The danger of social disruption lies in this quarter; and so long as the present tension remains, it tends to retard the free and varied expressions of fellowship in which a living society should abound. Society divided into two camps, with interests radically divergent, is condemned to a state of tension which is hostile to the free ferment of association natural to men; and this despite all well-meaning efforts to reconcile the conflicting interests by compromises which leave the framework of the schism untouched. So that we have come to this—that it is not only the traditional attitude of the state which is hostile to the free efflorescence of social groups but the actual condition of society under the present industrial system. A state of war, even of suppressed war, makes for a forced fellowship of partisans, and not for the free fellowship of partners. It is in the interests of the genuine socialisation of life that it is demanded that this social schism of capital and labour should be overcome; and there is but one way of overcoming it, namely the logical democratic way of putting the capital and the power it wields in the hands of those who labour. Towards this goal the first step has been taken in the movement toward democratic control in industry; and from this it is inevitable that the worker should proceed to demand control not only of production, but, as Mr. Cole says, also of the product, its sale and exchange; and, finally of investments. The free variegated expression and embodiment of the natural society-forming instincts of mankind are not possible in a community where one class is in a position to impose its will upon another. A state of conflict tends inevitably to a kind of flattening regimentation within the conflicting bodies; and regimentation whether deliberate or unconscious is an obstruction to the free flow of life. There is all the difference in the world between an organised society and a society that is essentially organic. An organised society makes for uniformity; an organic society will express itself in an endless number and variety of social forms.
If the state only knew it, its security lies in the encouragement of voluntary associations of all types; and even if it finds it difficult to rise to the plane of encouragement, it should at least achieve an attitude of toleration. For it is the only safeguard against the inevitable conflict of loyalties which is bound to arise when the state attempts to legislate for individuals in matters which touch the question of moral obligation. Indeed, during the war, we have seen the state in a somewhat lame and half-hearted way endeavouring to escape some of the consequences of its own legislation by having recourse to a recognition of the small group. It was bound by the sheer nature of the falls to acknowledge the existence of conscientious objection to war; and it proposed to acknowledge the genuineness of an individual conscientious objection to war if the person in question was a member of a religious society, the doctrines of which contained a testimony against war. It was assumed that if a man belonged to the Society of Friends, it constituted respectable evidence that his objection to participation in war was sincere. In this particular case, the test proved hopelessly inadequate; but it does at least indicate the condition under which the unity of the state can best be preserved. It is plainly impossible for the state to avoid conflict with the individual conscience so long as it lacks the means of determining whether a conscientious scruple is merely a personal idiosyncrasy or arises from a reasoned and socially authenticated view of life. By recognising the right of the members of a small group which has demonstrated its social worth to live their life out in their own way, it saves itself from a dangerous conflict with the individual conscience; while, on the other hand, as the individual conscience is safe-guarded from an anarchic eccentricity by the discipline of a freely chosen social environment, the state has the assurance that it is dealing with a genuine manifestation of moral life which must at all costs be respected. The small voluntary associated group is the saving middle term between the state and the individual. It is not likely, of course, that it will prove efficacious without exception in solving the problems involved in the relations of the individual and the state; but it would do much to mitigate the dangerous possibilities of the present practice.[36]
36.This chapter pretends to do no more than discuss at large those questions of fellowship which directly abut upon the public affairs of democracies. The promotion of fellowship in general opens up a large range of subjects which would not fall easily within the scope of this book.No discussion of the practice of fellowship can, for instance, be complete which does not take account of the actual and potential social ministry of play and recreation. But this matter involves questions with which the present writer is without competency to deal. It would require an extended treatment of the social reactions of sport, amateur and professional, the revival of folk-dancing and the maypole, the multiplication of play-centres for children and of open spaces; of the drama and the public provision of music—and of other matters. The subject is large and important enough for systematic discussion in a separate volume by someone capable of handling it.
36.This chapter pretends to do no more than discuss at large those questions of fellowship which directly abut upon the public affairs of democracies. The promotion of fellowship in general opens up a large range of subjects which would not fall easily within the scope of this book.
No discussion of the practice of fellowship can, for instance, be complete which does not take account of the actual and potential social ministry of play and recreation. But this matter involves questions with which the present writer is without competency to deal. It would require an extended treatment of the social reactions of sport, amateur and professional, the revival of folk-dancing and the maypole, the multiplication of play-centres for children and of open spaces; of the drama and the public provision of music—and of other matters. The subject is large and important enough for systematic discussion in a separate volume by someone capable of handling it.