A visitor from another world, or a really long-term Rip Van Winkle, knowing little of the complexities of Capitalism, might imagine that the problem of satisfying the needs of mankind is now as good as solved. Modern methods of production would appear to have made possible, if not a superabundance, then at least enough of the material things that most people would accept as a reasonable standard of living.
But, of course, our visitor would be mistaken. It is not enough to produce or to be able to produce toothbrushes and shoes and houses to ensure that those who need such things do get them. No, a socially useless, dehumanising, wasteful, cruel, unpredictable, man-made institution called a (world) market effectively stands in the way. Despite the fact that people are in need, for instance of shoes, if the supply is greater than the demand to buy, then some shoes will be sentenced to economic death—they might as well not have been produced at all.
In recent years the tendency has been towards a “buyers’ market,” as it always is after the devastation wrought by a major war has been patched up. The export drives are in full swing. In fact rival nations are taking so many swings at each other over who is to capture which markets that the result is a melĂ©e of no mean proportions.
One of the tricks used to cajole overseas buyers into placing their orders with British capitalists is the employment of hospitality. There is really no other word to use than “employment,” though it does sound strange when used in connection with something a£ apparently unbusinesslike as hospitality. This year the sellers of British goods are having to roll out their largest-ever red-white-and-blue carpet to keep pace with the hospitality offered by foreign rivals. They must entertain and throw parties on a lavish scale in order to get round buyers. The Daily Mirror (20.6.53) describes the general atmosphere of these parties:
“It’s exactly like entertaining a rich aunt . . . But like rich aunts these affairs are so often trying. Even when you’re not talking business, both you and your guest know perfectly well that the only reason you're together is that you want to get at his money."
Operating on a less ambitious scale, the commercial traveller is to be found peddling his employer’s goods from door to door. He, too, must preserve a friendly attitude towards his potential customer—not that he wouldn’t like their relationship to be a sincerely friendly one, but the nature of the business virtually precludes that. He must never argue and must never admit to the slightest blemish in his firm's product— his job is, in fact that of a professional prevaricator.
Each separate business deal is like an armistice in a perpetual war. Buyer and seller come together to agree on certain terms. Then they part to continue the struggle to gain advantage in the next deal. The trait of aggressiveness is prominent in those who aspire to get to the top of the ladder. Yet aggressiveness is condemned in such common remarks as "Don't push other people around,'' and those who behave in this way are usually hated by their colleagues. The individual is thus divided against himself, as the society of which he is part is divided against itself.
"Don't be selfish” is another common injunction, yet its opposite is also advocated: keep your own advantage in mind, and in so doing you will also be acting for the greatest advantage of all others. The idea that egotism is the basis of general welfare is one of the basic principles of competitive society, whose antagonisms of interest reach up and down to every aspect of life.
The ability to “put across” one's personality in competition with many others is the key to success in the business world. Erich Fromm gives a good account of this in “Man For Himself ”:
"If it were enough for the purpose of making a living to rely on what one knows and can do, one’s self-esteem would be in proportion to one’s capacities . . . but since success depends largely on how one sells one's personality, one experiences oneself as a commodity or rather simultaneously as the setter and the commodity to be sold. A person is not concerned with his life and happiness, but with becoming saleable."
One of the outstanding features of private property society is the fact that activities which are means to ends have usurped the position of ends, while the ends themselves have been lost sight of. People work in order to make money in order to enjoy the fruits of their labour. Without the money there are no fruits— yet in getting the money there is little time left in which to taste the fruits, which seem to have turned sour anyway.
Examples of the business approach to social affairs are found in the ideas of all the advocates of Capitalism and, despite their superficial differences, they form a united front in opposing the ideas of Socialism. Thus the Free Enterprise Campaigners will criticize countries in which a few men at the top decide how everyone shall live,” yet their own alternative is nothing more colourful than to give you a chance “if you want to change jobs or start up on your own.” On the other hand, the T.U.C. will tell you (in their recently published report on Public Ownership, p5) that to leave industries in private hands means that decisions whether to invest, and what charges to make to consumers, may not conform to the public interest.
Socialism, by contrast, has nothing to do with changing your employer, or with who works out the best way of keeping you financially just alive. It is concerned with abolishing capitalism and with organising production and distribution solely and directly to meet people's needs. One of the most harmful effects of Capitalism upon men is that they become instruments for purposes outside themselves. They treat themselves and their fellows as commodities, with the result that they think they are as powerless to change society as the article on the shop counter is powerless to sell itself. They are not—as they will demonstrate when enough of them think as socialists do.
Stan Parker


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