The Salvation Army and the Working Class. (1910)

From the June 1910 issue of the Socialist Standard

Link to the last issue.

III—Continued.

(B) The true story of the "Elevators." 

Mr. F. A. McKenzie (the Army’s official trumpeter for 1908-9) in his Booth-inspired work of fiction : “Waste Humanity” writes as follows :

“Let us trace what becomes of the man anxious to leave the streets, who appeals to the Salvation Army for aid. He first goes to the Social Headquarters in Whitechapel-road, where he states his case. . . The Army’s officials say to him. Here is a chance for you to rise again. Make the best of it. Do what you are told. Put your heart and back into the work given you. . . . This is not a place of worship—it is a place of work. God bless you !

The man who appears to be genuine, etc., etc., . . . is sent, if there is room, to one of the City Colony Elevators in Spa-road, Bermondsey.”

The process of “Elevation” is both curious and instructive. The “out-of-works” are put to sorting waste paper and refuse. This the Army collects for nothing, under the plea that souls are thereby to be saved and wastrels (!) “elevated.” As no wages are paid, the luckless inmates experience all the refined tortures of an elaborate “truck” system.

Tickets are given them with which to obtain food and shelter. “At Spa Road and Old Street waste paper sorting elevators, the man, whether on the barrows or at the screens, are lucky if, in addition to their keep (valued at 7s.) they get more than a money grant of 6d. or 1s. for a very long week’s work. Many of the inmates remain for years, without showing any sign or seeing any prospect of Elevation.

“It is only natural that many men leave from dissatisfaction after trying the system long enough to learn that, instead of raising them, it is designed to keep them in perpetual submersion.” (“The Salvation Army and the Public,” p. 66.)

Until recently one of the principal industries connected with these depressors (beg pardon, “Elevators”) was the manufacture of firewood. So keen was the Army on getting orders for elevated firewood that many of the ordinary makers were forced to engage fewer hands.

Picture to yourselves these aforesaid hands turned on to the street owing to the operation of this precious schema, there to make their way to the nearest Shelter, thence to find work at an Elevator, pushing more hands out, and so on ad infinitum !

In 1892 the average earnings of an Army wood chopper were 1s. 2½d. per day, paid in tokens thus : Breakfast 3d, Dinner 4d., Tea 3d., Bed 2d., and 2½d. reserved as money grant and to cover cost of Sunday meals.

The average wage (!) paid was therefore 7s. 3d. par week, while the highest possible was 11s. per week—7s. of it being in “truck.”

As regards underselling, whilst on the one hand the officials make loose and vague statements to the effect that “no underselling takes place,” on the other hand we have the definite declaration of certain firewood makers that they have lost orders and contracts through being undersold by the Army, and were compelled to employ fewer hands owing to the capture of their trade by the Army.

When confronted with these definite pronouncements (full data being supplied) the Army found a safe refuge in discreet silence. In au interview published in the Blackburn Times, Aug. 3rd, 1907, General Booth said :

“We have practically no firewood-making now. It raised so much prejudice and silly opposition that we gave it up.”

Doubtless the touching pictures in the Social Gazette of March 21st 1908—”Wood-Chopping” and “Preparing Firewood”—were directly the result of “giving it up” !

IV

Concerning Hanbury Street.

There is no discipline so brutal as that of the sweater ; there is no slavery so relentless as that front which we seek to deliver the victims.”In Darkest England,” p. 166.

Although our factories will be permanent institutions they will not be anything more than temporary resting places to those who avail themselves of their advantages.—Ibid, p. 109.

One of the most famous—or rather, infamous—of the Salvation Army’s social institutions is the Joinery Elevator in Hanbury Street, Whitechapel. Every man who goes into this den has to sign an agreement. From this agreement—a copy of which we have been fortunate enough to obtain—a few quotations will prove very instructive.

CLAUSE 1. “I declare that, being unable to find work elsewhere, and being homeless, friendless, and destitute, I have been admitted to the City Colony, to work only for my subsistence and shelter, and that everything allowed me beyond this will be so allowed by the kindness of the Governor.”

CLAUSE 5. “I understand that no payment of any kind is promised beyond food and lodgings, etc.”

CLAUSE 6. “I agree to give my clothes over to the Officer on entrance, and if, in the opinion of the Officer, they are incapable of further use, the Colony to supply me on loan with the necessary clothes, for which I am prepared to give a receipt, with the distinct understanding that should I on leaving the Colony take these clothes with me without written authority for my so doing, I render myself liable to be charged with embezzlement.”

CLAUSE 7. “I understand that in the event of my giving the Officer cause for dissatisfaction by bad behaviour, or for any other reason, I am liable to instant dismissal, and also to the forfeiture of my reward promised for industrious work.”

From sixty to eighty men are usually employed at these “works.”

Except in the case of a very few outside or “paid hands” taken on from time to time, all the men taken in are “out-of-works.”

“The joinery works,” says Mr. Manson, “are well equipped, the machinery being driven by electricity. Practically every kind of work is undertaken—inside doors and front doors, windows, office partitions, flights of stairs, benches for halls, kitchen tables, and train indicators. To do such work at all competently a man must be a very good joiner. No inexperienced man could do it.”

The hours worked at this “Labour Hospital” are from 6.30 a.m. to 6 p.m. (except on Saturdays). Three-quarters of an hour is allowed for breakfast, and one hour for dinner, both of which are supplied at Quaker Street (a sort of soup kitchen run by the Army) half a mile away.

The working week is 53½ hours, with frequent overtime. And an 11¾ hours’ working day is not uncommon.

The work done is rated by time or by piece. 2s. a day or 12s. a week is the wage or allowance given for time or day work.

9s. a week is deducted as the cost of board and lodging, thus leaving an average of 3s. a week by way of money grant.

Much light from various sources was from time to time thrown upon these “elevating” methods. Forthwith the Salvation Army officials made strenuous efforts to excuse their damnable practices by depreciating and vilifying the quality of the men’s work. “Piece-work” was flatly denied.

Apropos of this last some comparisons of official statements will prove amusing as well as most instructive:

COMMISSIONER STURGESS. (Memorandum July 22nd, 1908.)

“Hanbury St. is not a piecework shop

COLONEL JACOBS

(Commissioner Sturgess’ assistant.)

“When a man becomes experienced we put him on piecework.”

————————

(Agreement signed by men.)

“In the case of task work,” etc.

————————-

(An Army official to a representative of the Times. “It is all piecework.”

——————————–

(War Cry, May 1st, 1909.)

“We said that the majority of those provided with employment had lost their skill, and could only do the commonest class of work, and little of that.

Salvation Army Year Book, 1908. Page 43. “The majority are accomplished hands, and are able to do any hind of work usually carried on in the trades.” (Carpentry, joinery, and painting).

——————————–

A knowledge of what the Army professes to pay its hands for piecework is of great importance, because we can then discover, with a fair degree of accuracy, how these prices compare with those paid outside for exactly the same work. The work-tabs which have—unfortunately from the Army’s point of view—come to light, show this clearly.

These tabs supplied to the men for each job give the price to be paid to the man for making, and bear the signature of the officer in charge.

“Comparisons are odorous,” as the old lady said in the play, but the following list (by no means a complete one), showing the prices paid by the Army for certain work, and the prices estimated by a master-builder as those which he would have to pay for the same work, is positively damning.

No amount of plausibility can possibly explain away these stubborn facts.

——————————–

Fritz.

(To be continued)

Editorial: Murder of 137 Miners and Death of a King. (1910)

Editorial from the June 1910 issue of the Socialist Standard

By far the greatest calamity that has befallen the nation this year took place early in May, when 137 workingmen were buried alive in a coal mine in Cumberland. Compared with this the passing away of Albert Edward Wettin, otherwise known as King of England, etc., is as nothing compared with everything.

On the night of May 6th this individual died, after an easy, useless life of nearly 70 years duration, and despite the endeavours of five prominent physicians, and the order is given FOR THE NATION TO GO INTO MOURNING. Then, as if to mock the hollowness and hypocrisy of the pantomime engineered by interested parties, and assisted so successfully by their allies of the Press that people were actually beginning to worship the inanimate form of one that had ever been wasted clay—came the shock of the tragedy in the Wellington Pit.

Throughout the mining districts a warning was published on the morning of May 12th, drawing attention to the existing dangerous atmospheric conditions. During the day these grew worse, particularly in the vicinity of Whitehaven, ’til they were practically similar to the conditions observed at the time of nearly all previous mining disasters. In such circumstances no one should have been allowed down a mine save those necessary to tend what animals might be below. And when it is realised that there was no life-saving apparatus near the mine, that the pit in question was a veritable deathtrap, extending four miles under the sea and having but one way of entrance and exit, it becomes increasingly difficult to charge the mineowners with anything short of murder.

According to Mr. Henry, under-manager of the mine, the fire started in quite a small way, and could probably have been easily extinguished. Valuable time was wasted, and when experts with life-saving appliances arrived from Sheffield and Glasgow, it was found that valuable coal and mining plant was being burnt. The experts could not reach the entombed men, but declare that had they been there earlier the latter could have been saved. And—horror of horrors !- despite the convictions of many and the assertion of one who had escaped, that the men below were alive and had fresh air and water enough for a month, it was decided to no longer try to save the men, but to save the coal.

“Alas ! that coal should be so dear
   And flesh and blood so cheap.’’

The decision to brick up the mine in order to smother the fire (and the men) nearly caused a riot in the town —but the mine, if not the men, must be saved. So the mine was bricked up and the only possible means of escape for the men cut off, while preparations were also made to flood the pit should those who owned it deem it necessary.

We venture to suggest that had Teddy Roosevelt, the late King Edward, or even the latter’s pet dog Caesar, been down in that mine, there would not have been such unseemly haste to make it a tomb. But a few score of workmen—what of them! They don’t count: there are plenty more of them at a few shillings a week. And as for the heartbroken widows and. orphans—they are accustomed to such things, you know. A few pounds will solace them! Thus we speak the capitalist mind; and the capitalist Press cynically passes over the brutal murder of workingmen, the fiendish interment of living human beings in a flaming pit in order to save coal and plant, with a report that a relief fund is being raised and that work is being resumed in the district.

Thus the little town of Whitehaven provides an object lesson in the class struggle. To those who believe in the “brotherhood of Capital and Labour” the Whitehaven tragedy is inexplicable, but to us class-conscious workers it is as dear as noon-day. That capital may have its profits workingmen must be sacrificed. And so it will be until Socialism ends conflicting class interests by the abolition of classes.

In the meantime we go on with our revolutionary propaganda. Our sympathy, sincere, deep and lasting, goes out to our brothers and sisters in Whitehaven in this sad hour of trial. The Stoical bravery and fortitude shown by our women at Whitehaven under real grief and suffering, under the mental torture of knowing that even yet their loved ones may be lying in that blazing pit beneath the sea, staring laggard Death in the face through long weary hours— such fortitude as this, we say, we commend in other places, where what is lacking in grief is made up for, many times over, with hired mourners and a mighty show of hollow, pompous mockery and pretence, which could not be complete without Caesar—on a string. 

And to add to our insults and our injuries, this triumph given to Caesar (if we may speak from Caesar'a point of view), is accompanied by the impertinent order that we, the working class of the country, shall exhibit such outward signs of grief as would move these superior mortals to derision were we to display them on account of our own dead. We fling the insult back with scorn and contempt. Between kings and queens and their capitalist henchmen (or should we say masters) and the working class there is a bottomless abyss. Woe to those of our class who forget it: we never can. Across that chasm we repudiate and absolutely reject the invitation or command to participate in the tomfoolery of national mourning for what is in no sense a national calamity. We are not on the same string with Caesar. Across that chasm we fling, in the name of our murdered brothers in that grave under the sea, with undying hatred and contempt, the gage of unceasing battle to the bitter end. That is how we consign a royal relic to its tomb; that is how [we] keep green the memory of the murdered miners of Whitehaven.

Another Debate. (1910)

From the June 1910 issue of the Socialist Standard

Although Mr. Wimborne was the challenger, he declined to open the debate when he met our representative at Manor Park on April 4th, so Comrade Dawkins took the platform and outlined the propaganda carried on by the S.P.G.B., stating that the audience well knew what Socialism was as expounded by his comrades and himself. And he defied Mr. Wimborne to deal with Socialism and not to saddle the S.P.G.B. with the vagaries of Messers. Quelch, Blatchford, Ramsay Macdonald, or the kidnapped Victor Grayson. Nor was he to set up any Aunt Sally and then proceed to knock the poor old lady down and scalp her, for the satisfaction of exhibiting a reeking trophy to the public gaze.

Mr. Wimborne opened by admitting that the capitalist system was not perfect. He claimed however, that the horrible tyranny which would be set up if the Socialists had their way would be far worse. He quoted from a book he called "Allinson's History of Europe" showing the massacres which were perpetrated in France during the Revolution, and he described the S.P.G.B. as the Jacobins of the Socialist movement, who would ruthlessly slaughter all who disagreed with them. Brotherhood was a dream which could never be realised. Christianity had tried for 2,000 years to bring it about and failed. All the great teachers had failed, then how could a few men calling themselves the Socialist Party of Great Britain hope to do what every great genius had failed to do? Now under present conditions the best man came to the top. There was plenty of scope for talent to display itself. But under Socialism the commune would decree what work every man and woman should do. What would happen if the commune decreed that Comrade Dawkins should sweep the roads? Dawkins would decline and then the awful machinery would be set to work. The President would put down his foot and say: the roads want sweeping—Dawkins is a handy man with a broom and Dawkins shall sweep the roads. Mr. Wimbourne then came to his remedy for the existing evils. First we must trust to scientific development. And we must all admit that things are getting better, said he, whereat the audience set up a roar of derisive laughter. You may laugh and jeer, retorted the speaker, but you forget Old Age Pensions and the Workmen's Compensation Act, which bring solace to the old and to the widows of the killed. This statement moved the crowd to redoubled laughter, and even to actual rudeness, whereupon the disheartened protagonist of Liberalism vacated the platform.

Comrade Dawkins dealt with his opponent's points seriatim and in Dawkinesque style. He pointed out that Mr. Wimborne need not have gone to the early struggles of capitalists for supremacy to show how they will murder without scruple all who jeopardise their material interests, and instanced Cecil Rhodes and Co., who butchered thousands of the Matabele in the quest for gold and diamonds.

Our comrade then showed the fraud of Old Age Pensions and the Workmen's Compensation Act, and demonstrated that scientific development, instead of helping the working class, was kicking them in the bread basket every time. Each new application of science to industry was militating against the working class and must continue to do so under private or class ownership in any form.

With regard to the harrowing spectacle of Dawkins sweeping the roads, Dawkins pointed out that degrading as Mr. Wimborne and his superior friends thought such a job was, hundreds of thousands of men were eager for that work now, at a few shillings per week recompense, that many men now do far dirtier and more unpleasant jobs and don't care who sees them where no social inferiority is implied. Under Socialism no useful, necessary work would be held degrading. Our whole outlook would be altered and such things as the rewarding of men like Kitchener and Cromer with hundreds and thousands and people like Madame Curie with a mere pittance would be regarded as sheer lunacy.

Briefly it was thus.

W. Watts.