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the ‘prodigious coach’ vs. ‘the masses of humanity’

January 18, 2012

Today, a friend of mine wrote on Facebook:

Romney estimates he paid 15% income tax. I paid 25% in 2011 to federal. I’m not a millionaire. He justifies it because it’s mostly from investments… so if you make millions by sitting on your ass you should pay less than someone who works 6 days a week and barely gets by.

It got me thinking that, when people talk about class war or class struggle, this is partly what they’re talking about. In this case, capital is treated differently than labour, which, due in large part to inherent contradictions fuelled by the ‘coercive laws of competition,’ creates an antagonistic social relationship between these two diametrically opposed classes.

For example, money made through the investment of money, regardless of how, is generally taxed at a lower rate than money earned through labour, even though human labour is arguably where most wealth actually comes from. But under the current system of production, capital, which also makes up the majority of the ruling class, occupies a deferential position in which it legally owns the labour it utilizes, as well as what’s produced in terms of goods and services. So not only does it get taxed at a lower rate, but it receives the lion’s share of the wealth created by labour in the form of surplus value (i.e., unpaid labour), which is the primary source of what we call profit in the capitalist mode of production.

Essentially, if you’re part of the working class who’s forced to sell your labour just to get by, spending your meager wages on the necessities of life such as food, clothing, shelter, etc., you’re getting screwed at least twice; while capitalists, which have the ability to increase their profit exponentially by reinvesting the surplus value extracted from your labour, and hold almost all the political power in society (especially when money equals social power), always have the upper hand.

This relationship is vividly portrayed by Edward Bellamy in his 1888 utopian science fiction novel, Looking Backward, by the parable of the ‘prodigious coach’ and ‘the masses of humanity’ toiling to pull it, and I think it’s still applicable today:

By way of attempting to give the reader some general impression of the way people lived together in those days, and especially of the relations of the rich and poor to one another, perhaps I cannot do better than to compare society as it then was to a prodigious coach which the masses of humanity were harnessed to and dragged toilsomely along a very hilly and sandy road. The driver was hunger, and permitted no lagging, though the pace was necessarily very slow. Despite the difficulty of drawing the coach at all along so hard a road, the top was covered with passengers who never got down, even at the steepest ascents. These seats on top were very breezy and comfortable. Well up out of the dust, their occupants could enjoy the scenery at their leisure, or critically discuss the merits of the straining team. Naturally such places were in great demand and the competition for them was keen, every one seeking as the first end in life to secure a seat on the coach for himself and to leave it to his child after him. By the rule of the coach a man could leave his seat to whom he wished, but on the other hand there were many accidents by which it might at any time be wholly lost. For all that they were so easy, the seats were very insecure, and at every sudden jolt of the coach persons were slipping out of them and falling to the ground, where they were instantly compelled to take hold of the rope and help to drag the coach on which they had before ridden so pleasantly. It was naturally regarded as a terrible misfortune to lose one’s seat, and the apprehension that this might happen to them or their friends was a constant cloud upon the happiness of those who rode.

But did they think only of themselves? you ask. Was not their very luxury rendered intolerable to them by comparison with the lot of their brothers and sisters in the harness, and the knowledge that their own weight added to their toil? Had they no compassion for fellow beings from whom fortune only distinguished them? Oh, yes; commiseration was frequently expressed by those who rode for those who had to pull the coach, especially when the vehicle came to a bad place in the road, as it was constantly doing, or to a particularly steep hill. At such times, the desperate straining of the team, their agonized leaping and plunging under the pitiless lashing of hunger, the many who fainted at the rope and were trampled in the mire, made a very distressing spectacle, which often called forth highly creditable displays of feeling on the top of the coach. At such times the passengers would call down encouragingly to the toilers of the rope, exhorting them to patience, and holding out hopes of possible compensation in another world for the hardness of their lot, while others contributed to buy salves and liniments for the crippled and injured. It was agreed that it was a great pity that the coach should be so hard to pull, and there was a sense of general relief when the specially bad piece of road was gotten over. This relief was not, indeed, wholly on account of the team, for there was always some danger at these bad places of a general overturn in which all would lose their seats.

It must in truth be admitted that the main effect of the spectacle of the misery of the toilers at the rope was to enhance the passengers’ sense of the value of their seats upon the coach, and to cause them to hold on to them more desperately than before. If the passengers could only have felt assured that neither they nor their friends would ever fall from the top, it is probable that, beyond contributing to the funds for liniments and bandages, they would have troubled themselves extremely little about those who dragged the coach.

I am well aware that this will appear to the men and women of the twentieth century an incredible inhumanity, but there are two facts, both very curious, which partly explain it. In the first place, it was firmly and sincerely believed that there was no other way in which Society could get along, except the many pulled at the rope and the few rode, and not only this, but that no very radical improvement even was possible, either in the harness, the coach, the roadway, or the distribution of the toil. It had always been as it was, and it always would be so. It was a pity, but it could not be helped, and philosophy forbade wasting compassion on what was beyond remedy.

The other fact is yet more curious, consisting in a singular hallucination which those on the top of the coach generally shared, that they were not exactly like their brothers and sisters who pulled at the rope, but of finer clay, in some way belonging to a higher order of beings who might justly expect to be drawn. This seems unaccountable, but, as I once rode on this very coach and shared that very hallucination, I ought to be believed. The strangest thing about the hallucination was that those who had but just climbed up from the ground, before they had outgrown the marks of the rope upon their hands, began to fall under its influence. As for those whose parents and grand-parents before them had been so fortunate as to keep their seats on the top, the conviction they cherished of the essential difference between their sort of humanity and the common article was absolute. The effect of such a delusion in moderating fellow feeling for the sufferings of the mass of men into a distant and philosophical compassion is obvious. To it I refer as the only extenuation I can offer for the indifference which, at the period I write of, marked my own attitude toward the misery of my brothers.

But what if another world is possible? What if we rethought our system of production altogether? What if we revolutionized methods of production, ownership, and distribution in order to alleviate or even eliminate some of these problems?

I believe that, just as feudalism, which was a step up from earlier, tribal modes of production, was transformed into capitalism, capitalism, too, can be transformed into yet another socio-economic system characterized by the de-privatization (i.e., socialization) of opportunity and the weakening of class antagonisms and hierarchies arising out of social relations unique to capitalism and other predominately exploitative systems where the producers/workers have no ownership and/or distributive control over the surplus created by their labour.


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