Libertarian Girl

Many “progressives” see a rise of socialism as a newfound utopia– no suffering, no pain, no having to work all day, no children in trouble, and apparently no consequences, either. This thinking is nothing new. Jerome K. Jerome wrote about it in his short story “The New Utopia” 100 years ago, quite well in my opinion. Reading the entire five-page story gives you some of Jerome’s humor, but here are some highlights for those who are missing out by not reading the story for themselves.

I had spent an extremely interesting evening. I had dined with some very “advanced” friends of mine at the “National Socialist Club”. We had had an excellent dinner: the pheasant, stuffed with truffles, was a poem; and when I say that the ’49 Chateau Lafitte was worth the price we had to pay for it, I do not see what more I can add in its favour.

After dinner, and over the cigars (I must say they do know how to stock good cigars at the National Socialist Club), we had a very instructive discussion about the coming equality of man and the nationalisation of capital. I was not able to take much part in the argument myself, because, having been left when a boy in a position which rendered it necessary for me to earn my own living, I have never enjoyed the time and opportunity to study these questions. But I listened very attentively while my friends explained how, for the thousands of centuries during which it had existed before they came, the world had been going on all wrong, and how, in the
course of the next few years or so, they meant to put it right.

Equality of all mankind was their watchword - perfect equality in all things — equality in possessions, and equality in position and influence, and equality in duties, resulting in equality in happiness and contentment. The world belonged to all alike, and must be equally divided. Each man’s labour was the property, not of himself, but of the State which fed and clothed him, and must be applied, not to his own aggrandisement, but to the enrichment of the race.

…. How delightful life would be, if only the scheme of my socialistic friends could be carried out. There would ne no more of this struggling and striving against each other, no more jealousy, no
more disappointment, no more fear of poverty! The State would take charge of us from the hour we were born until we died, and provide for all our wants from the cradle to the coffin, both inclusive, and we should need to give no thought even to the matter. There would be no more hard work (three hours’ labour a day would be the limit, according to our calculations, that the State would require from each adult citizen, and nobody would be allowed to do more — I should not be allowed to do more) — no poor to pity, no rich to envy — no one to look down upon us, no one for us to look down upon (not quite so pleasant this latter reflection) — all our life ordered and arranged for us — nothing to think about except the glorious destiny (whatever that might be) of Humanity!

[He goes to sleep and wakes up a thousand years later...]

“Are all men twins?”

“Twins! Good gracious, no!” answered my guide. “Whatever made you fancy that?”

“Why, they all look so much alike,” I replied; “and they’ve all got black hair!”

“Oh; that’s the regulation colour for hair,” explained my companion: “we’ve all got black hair. If a man’s hair is not black naturally, he has to have it dyed black.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Why!” retorted the old gentleman, somewhat irritably. “Why, I thought you understood that all men were now equal. What would become of our equality if one man or woman were allowed to
swagger about in golden hair, while another had to put up with carrots? Men have not only got to be equal in these happy days, but to look it, as far as can be. By causing all men to be clean
shaven, and all men and women to have black hair cut the same length, we obviate, to a certain extent, the errors of Nature.”

…

“Are there no women in this city?”

“Women!” exclaimed my guide. “Of course there are. We’ve passed hundreds of them!”

“I thought I knew a woman when I saw one,” I observed; “but I can’t remember noticing any.”

“Why, there go two, now,” he said, drawing my attention to a couple of persons near to us, both dressed in the regulation grey trousers and tunics.

“How do you know they are women?” I asked.

“Why, you see the metal numbers tha everybody wears on their collar?”

“Yes: I was just thinking what a number of policeman you had, and wondering where the other people were!”

“Well, the even numbers are women; the odd numbers are men.”

….

“Don’t people have names, then?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Oh! there was so much inequality in names. Some people were called Montmorency, and they looked down on the Smiths; and the Smythes did not like mixing with the Joneses: so, to save further bother, it was decided to abolish names altogether, and to give everybody a number.”

“Did the Montmorencys and the Smythes object.”

“Yes: but the Smiths and Joneses were in THE MAJORITY.”

“And did no the Ones and Twos look down upon the Threes and Fours, and so on?”

“At first, yes. But, with the abolition of wealth, numbers lost their value, except for industrial purposes and for double acrostics, and now No. 100 does not consider himself in any way superior to No. 1,000,000.”

….

“Can I wash myself anywhere?”

He said: “No; we are not allowed to wash ourselves. You must wait until half-past four, and then you will be washed for tea.”

“Be washed!” I cried. “Who by?”

“The State.”

He said that they had found they could not maintain their equality when people were allowed to wash themselves. Some people washed three or four times a day, while others never touched soap and water from one year’s end to the other, and in consequence there got to be two distinct classes, the Clean and the Dirty. All the old class prejudices began to be revived. The clean despised the dirty, and the dirty hated the clean. So, to end dissension, the State decided to do the washing itself, and each citizen was now washed twice a day by government-appointed officials; and private washing was prohibited.

….

“We don’t need houses — not houses such as you are thinking of. We are socialistic now; we live together in fraternity and equality. We live in these blocks that you see. Each block accommodates one thousand citizens. It contains one thousand beds — one hundred in each room — and bath-rooms and dressing-rooms in proportion, a dining-hall and kitchens.”

….

“Oh, there are no married couples,” he replied; “we abolished marriage two hundred years ago. You see, married life did not work at all well with our system. Domestic life, we found, was
thoroughly anti-socialistic in its tendencies. Men thought more of their wives and families than they did of the State. They wished to labour for the benefit of their little circle of beloved ones rather than for the good of the community. They cared more for the future of their children than for the Destiny of Humanity.”

…..

“From whatever point you looked at it, the Family stood forth as our foe. One man had a charming wife and two sweet-tempered children; his neighbour was married to a shrew, and was the father of eleven noisy, ill-dispositioned brats — where was the equality?”

…..

“Are there no shops nor stores in this town?”

“No,” he replied. “What do we want with shops and stores? The State feeds us, clothes us, houses us, doctors us, washes and dresses us, cuts our corns, and buries us. What could we do with shops?”

….

“Can we go in anywhere and have a drink?”

He said: “A ‘drink’! What’s a ‘drink’? We have half-a-pint of cocoa with our dinner. Do you mean that?”

….

“Oh! but it used to be so beautiful in the country,“ I urged, “before I went to bed. There were great green trees, and grassy, wind-waved meadows, and little rose-decked cottages, and —”

“Oh, we’ve changed all that,” interrupted the old gentleman; “it is all one huge market-garden now, divided by roads and canals cut at right angles to each other. There is no beauty in the country now whatever. We have abolished beauty; it interfered with our equality. It was not fair that some people should live among lovely scenery, and other upon barren moors. So we have made it all pretty much alike everywhere now, and no place can lord it over another.”

“Can a man emigrate into any other country?” I asked; “it doesn’t matter what country — any other country would do.”

“Oh, yes, if he likes,” replies my companion; “but why should he? All lands are exactly the same. The whole world is all one people now - one language, one law, one life.”

….

I said: “Are you allowed to read books?”

“Well,” he answered, “there are not many written…”

… all new art and literature were forbidden, as such things tended to undermine the principles of equality. They made men think, and the men that thought grew cleverer than those that did not want to think; and those that did not want to think naturally objected to this, and being in THE MAJORITY, objected to some purpose.

Tags: Jerome K. Jerome, The New Utopia, socialism, socialist

This entry was posted on Monday, February 11th, 2008 at 6:56 pm and is filed under Democratic Party, Non-free market, bureaucracy. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.