For too long the working class have had their strength drained by poverty and economic insecurity. Although harassed and undernourished, they have accepted their condition as being inevitable : content with the reform crumbs that have been grudgingly given after bitter struggles. As yet they know of no alternative.
Their arguments in defence of their position are proverbial, and like schoolchildren chanting the multiplication table, they have repeated the ‘‘catch-phrases” of their masters. “There have always been rich and poor.” “You must have Capital and Labour.” ‘‘Hard work never hurt anyone.” ‘‘The bosses have got the brains.” These phrases have dulled workers' political alertness, because, always hoping to rise in the social sphere by hard work, they eventually discover there is nothing on that road but work and poverty. They do not know the alternative.
Poverty is a social disease which has undermined the health of the working class. The slum dwellers of to-morrow—the suburbanites, think the term poverty refers to the slum dwellers of to-day. They in turn think it refers to beggars and tramps. It is never on their own doorstep. It is always the other person who is poor.
The poverty of sweet suburbia is more respectable than that of the slum areas. They have no bugs. They eat from tablecloths, not newspapers. They have baths, not bowls in which to perform their ablutions. They have a lounge, not a parlour. Their children wear “college” caps and do not “run the streets.” Unmarried expectant mothers have been kicked out of their homes to maintain their family’s respectability. ‘‘ What will the neighbours think?” outweighs consideration for their daughter’s welfare. Respectability knows no bounds.
In sweet suburbia they have a different outlook from the slum dweller. They desire to ‘‘get on” in the world. Being snobs, they try to find out what the other fellow does ‘‘in the city.” It is never called work. They receive a ‘‘salary,” not a wage. They visit the "local” not the "pub.” They wear out their lives trying to keep up appearances, and have been known to go without food in order to do so. Property-conscious, with shoddy clothes and affected speech, they ape their masters in an endeavour to hide their poverty. Their condition is wretched, for they are acting a lie throughout their lives. All have one fear — the fear of losing a job.
Foolish workers! Not only do you produce the wealth which the Capitalist class enjoy, but they control your thinking, and you are content despite your wretchedness, that this should be so. It is true you grumble—that is a safety valve, but animals do not whine and skulk in corners.
One can understand the Capitalist class defending their power, prestige and property. They have got a lot to lose, but you have only your poverty—and how you like it!
You are the toiling millions who produce the wealth of the world, for others to enjoy. As yet, the Capitalist class is not afraid of you, for they have got you where they want you, but when you begin to think in your own interests, they will not be so flagrant. The newspapers will not show a photo of a super ship with its millionaires on board, and on the same page, an offer to the miners of an extra ounce of rationed meat.
Workers, rouse yourselves from your lethargy. Try to understand the world in which you exist. Join with us in working for a society where poverty and degradation will be replaced by comfort and a full life for all.
S. W. C.
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