Inefficiency.
I'd rather die on the high road under the open blue.I'd rather starve to death in the sweet air, or drown in the brave, salt sea, or have one fierce glad hour of battle, and then a bullet, than lead the life of a brute in a stinking hell, and gasp out my broken breath at last on a pauper's pallet.
-ROBERT BLATCHFORD.
I STOPPED A MOMENT TO LISTEN to an argument on the Mile End Waste.
It was night-time, and they were all workmen of the better class.They had surrounded one of their number, a pleasant-faced man of thirty, and were giving it to him rather heatedly.
'But 'ow about this 'ere cheap immigration?' one of them demanded.
'The Jews of Whitechapel, say, a-cuttin' our throats right along?'
'You can't blame them,' was the answer.'They're just like us, and they've got to live.Don't blame the man who offers to work cheaper than you and gets your job.'
'But 'ow about the wife an' kiddies?' his interlocutor demanded.
'There you are,' came the answer.'How about the wife and kiddies of the man who works cheaper than you and gets your job? Eh? How about his wife and kiddies? He's more interested in them than in yours, and he can't see them starve.So he cuts the price of labor and out you go.But you mustn't blame him, poor devil.He can't help it.Wages always come down when two men are after the same job.That's the fault of competition, not of the man who cuts the price.'
'But wyges don't come down where there's a union,' the objection was made.
'And there you are again, right on the head.The union checks competition among the laborers, but makes it harder where there are no unions.There's where your cheap labor of Whitechapel comes in.
They're unskilled, and have no unions, and cut each other's throats, and ours in the bargain, if we don't belong to a strong union.'
Without going further into the argument, this man on the Mile End Waste pointed the moral that when two men were after the one job wages were bound to fall.Had he gone deeper into the matter, he would have found that even the union, say twenty thousand strong, could not hold up wages if twenty thousand idle men were trying to displace the union men.This is admirably instanced, just now, by the return and disbandment of the soldiers from South Africa.They find themselves, by tens of thousands, in desperate straits in the army of the unemployed.There is a general decline in wages throughout the land, which, giving rise to labor disputes and strikes, is taken advantage of by the unemployed, who gladly pick up the tools thrown down by the strikers.
Sweating, starvation wages, armies of unemployed, and great numbers of the homeless and shelterless are inevitable when there are more men to do work than there is work for men to do.The men and women I have met upon the streets, and in the spikes and pegs, are not there because as a mode of life it may be considered a 'soft snap.' I have sufficiently outlined the hardships they undergo to demonstrate that their existence is anything but 'soft.'
It is a matter of sober calculation, here in England, that it is softer to work for twenty shillings ($5) a week, and have regular food, and a bed at night, than it is to walk the streets.The man who walks the streets suffers more, and works harder, for far less return.I have depicted the nights they spend, and how, driven in by physical exhaustion, they go to the casual ward for a 'rest up.' Nor is the casual ward a soft snap.To pick four pounds of oakum, break twelve hundred-weight of stones, or perform the most revolting tasks, in return for the miserable food and shelter they receive, is an unqualified extravagance on the part of the men who are guilty of it.On the part of the authorities, it is sheer robbery.They give the men far less for their labor than do the capitalistic employers.The wage for the same amount of labor, performed for a private employer, would buy them better beds, better food, more good cheer, and, above all, greater freedom.
As I say, it is an extravagance for a man to patronize a casual ward.And that they know it themselves is shown by the way these men shun it till driven in by physical exhaustion.Then why do they do it?
Not because they are discouraged workers.The very opposite is true;they are discouraged vagabonds.In the United States the tramp is almost invariably a discouraged worker.He finds tramping a softer mode of life than working.But this is not true in England.Here the powers that be do their utmost to discourage the tramp and vagabond, and he is, in all truth, a mightily discouraged creature.He knows that two shillings a day, which is only fifty cents, will buy him three fair meals, a bed at night, and leave him a couple of pennies for pocket money.He would rather work for those two shillings, than for the charity of the casual ward; for he knows that he would not have to work so hard and that he would not be so abominably treated.
He does not do so, however, because there are more men to do work than there is work for men to do.
When there are more men than there is work to be done, a sifting-out process must obtain.In every branch of industry the less efficient are crowded out.Being crowded out because of inefficiency, they cannot go up, but must descend, and continue to descend, until they reach their proper level, a place in the industrial fabric where they are efficient.It follows, therefore, and it is inexorable, that the least efficient must descend to the very bottom, which is the shambles wherein they perish miserably.
