The smokescreen of prices (2026)

From the June 2026 issue of the Socialist Standard

The prices shown for delivery on online platforms do not tell the full story of the goods and services we buy. The amount we pay for delivery does not tell the tale of low pay for drivers, fragmented work, and daily risks on the road. The visible cost is only the surface: a simple figure that hides the real human and material costs.

Nor is this limited to delivery. More generally, the market price of a good or service rarely includes all the costs of producing it. A significant part is shifted elsewhere: onto the environment, workers, society, or the future.

Many low-cost products depend on production chains that use natural resources with no attention to environmental impact. Deforestation for non-essential goods, intensive use of energy and water, and pollution generated in production have no direct impact on the selling price. The same is true of working conditions – low wages, insecurity, and limited safety – which remain outside the cost on the market.

Another layer of this smokescreen lies in product design. Planned obsolescence and poor reparability, especially in electronic devices, shift costs onto consumers over time and increase waste. The initial price may seem low, but the overall cost—economic and environmental—is much higher.

There are also less immediate effects: impacts on health, as with ultra-processed food; the growing burden of waste that is hard to recycle; and the degradation of ecosystems. These costs are largely borne by society, often through public spending or a loss in quality of life.

This does not result from a single actor deliberately hiding costs. It is a feature of a system in which firms compete to lower prices and raise margins, while many indirect costs—so-called externalities—are not properly accounted for.

The result is a distortion: what is cheap in the market can be costly for society as a whole. Price acts as a smokescreen, simplifying and concealing, and making it harder to judge the real consequences of our choices.

A more radical approach is to question the system itself. If market prices tend to exclude social, environmental, and human costs, then the issue is not only how to correct the system, but whether it should be replaced.

In a system oriented to human needs rather than profit, production will not be driven by returns to investors but by social usefulness and sustainability. This will require forms of planning—more or less decentralised—able to take real costs into account from the start: decent working conditions, environmental limits, durability and reparability, and health factors.

In such a context, price will be abolished as a means of access to goods and services, making them freely available. This would not mean a lack of coordination, but a different kind of coordination. Production and distribution will be organised through planning, shared priorities, and participatory decision-making, giving the ability to deal with both potential abundance and real scarcity. The production of unnecessary or harmful goods will be reduced – not because it is unprofitable, but because it is recognised as socially and environmentally unsustainable.

This raises important questions. How can complex systems of production be coordinated without prices? How can inefficiency, concentration of power, or rigid bureaucracy be avoided? How can innovation and flexibility be maintained? These are not trivial issues. But the tools and knowledge to make costs visible—and to organise production differently—already exist. The issue is not technical, but political and collective. It requires not only awareness, but a conscious and collective decision to reorganise society on a fundamentally different basis. The sooner we begin to take this seriously, the sooner we can stop treating as inevitable what today may appear ‘natural’ but is simply an expression of the way society is organised at this particular point in time.

Gian Maria

The Common Market Special Survey: 2. The Industrial Power (1962)

From the January 1962 issue of the Socialist Standard

An investment of £2,000 million was the figure recently suggested as necessary for the setting up of an international scientific research centre in Berlin. In the same newspaper the British Electricity Council announced its intention to spend £947 million on generating stations in the next four years. The British Motor Corporation spent £10 million in launching one model—the Austin 7/Miniminor.

In themselves, these three examples have no direct connection with the emergence of the “Common Market.” They are, however, pointers to the scale of modern capitalism. Huge investment and massive production plants are the order of the day. A small sheet steel mill would be economically and technically ridiculous in 1962. Modern plastics, too, such as polythene or nylon, must be produced in vast automatic plants. It is the same story with petrol refining, aircraft production, coal mining, chemicals, shipbuilding, rocket research, and so on; and this matter of size is the real force that has brought the European Economic Community into existence.

E.E.C. is a perfect demonstration of Marx’s statement that capitalism is neither a stable nor a permanent social system. It is driven to expand under the compulsion of inexorable economic laws, gearing up science and engineering to the ever-increasing demands of capital, and forcing human and social relationships into new and arbitrary patterns.

In Europe, particularly, the pressure on national boundaries and sovereignties has been intensifying since the first World War, when Europe started to fall behind America in the race for industrial production and exports. The retention of national units seriously weakened the European capitalists in their struggle for a share of the world’s trade; and since the second World War, which can be seen from one point of view as a German attempt to unite Europe under its rule, it has become obvious that, individually, the European nations are puny and backward by comparison with the American and Russian federations.

E.E.C. is, in fact, very far from being a “good idea ” formulated by European politicians; it is a belated and reluctant acknowledgment of the expanding scale of investment, production and trade.

Steel

Significantly, the first step in the industrial unification of Europe was the setting up of the European Coal and Steel Community in 1952. Coal is still by far the most important industrial fuel, and steel the overwhelmingly dominant metal. Furthermore, the holdings in both industries were already concentrated in a few large blocks, making negotiations relatively simple.

The occupying Allies had limited German steel output to 11m. tons a year. When the restriction was lifted, W. German production rose rapidly to reach 34m. tons in 1960, bringing the total for the Community to 73m. tons. Their exports are co-ordinated in a cartel known as the Brussels Entente handling two-thirds of the world’s steel exports— formidable competition for the British Steel Federation!

Nevertheless, in these boom years for steel, British exports have doubled in the past ten years, and the industry has gone ahead with large development plans at Corby and Margam and Llanwern. A large fraction of this increased capacity is for sheet steel in anticipation of a continued increase in demand from the motor industry. These “strip” mills are barely an economic proposition at under a capacity of a million tons a year. Building a new one is therefore a big step, but unless it strides at this rate the British industry must fall out of the race. The real testing time will come when the boom is over. Then the weight of the Brussels Entente will be decisive.

Unless the British Iron and Steel Federation can break into the European group it can be out-produced and out-priced. Even if it does, the proposed merger between Phoenix and Thyssen in Germany would dominate the group. Indeed, the British steel industry might even be prepared to submit to re-nationalisation in order to wield sufficient power.

Coal

It is a starker version of the same picture with regard to the older and less efficient coal industry. Already a number of Belgian coal mines have been closed down as being uneconomic in competition with German coal. In this country the average rate of profit from coal mining was so low that there was never any real alternative to nationalisation. The National Coal Board, like the true capitalist concern that it is, is to close 15 Scottish pits, involving 5,000 men, next year as part of the attempt to wipe out its £21 million deficit for 1960. It has closed a large number of pits which are unprofitable by modern standards, and the total deficit for Scottish mines is now estimated to have reached £100 million. Contrary to popular belief, the Coal Board does not exist to produce coal, but to produce profits; and so it must cut its losses.

It must do more than this: until now it has been protected from serious foreign competition (even the Steel Company of Wales was prevented from importing cheap American coal); it must reverse the steady shrinkage of exports if it is to survive. They dropped from £61 million in 1950 to £28 million in 1960, largely through uncompetitive prices. By cutting the labour force (by 20,000 in 1961) and by a costly programme of capital investment (£97 million in 1961-2) productivity has been raised from 3-2 tons per manshift in 1950 to over 4-1 tons last year. The National Coal Board claims that it is introducing automatic machinery faster than is being done anywhere else in the world, and that real automation, in the form of robot coal-cutting machinery which seeks out the coal for itself, will be operating in a British mine before the end of 1962. In a Commons debate on the coal industry on October 24th, 1961, the Minister of Power, Mr. Wood, said that: “It was too early for him to forecast the precise effect of membership of the Iron and Steel Community, but it was felt that it would benefit both the NCB and the consumer. This would automatically confer benefit to those working in the industry.” (The Guardian, 25/10/61.)

The attitude of British coal miners towards this statement is not easily available; but, since their numbers have dropped from over 1,000,000 in the 1920’s to 560,000 in 1961, it is doubtful whether they feel so optimistic about Britain’s entry into the “Common Market,” because, whatever else it involves, it certainly means more ruthless exploitation of every man.

Gas

On November 7th, 1961, the Financial Times published a four-page supplement on the Gas Industry, showing that like the National Coal Board its production and sales had risen while its labour force had been cut by 20,000 in ten years. The Chairman of the Gas Council, Sir Henry Jones, wrote of “gas established again as a growth industry” in spite of the fact that the number of gasworks has been cut from 1,050 in 1949 to 378. During this period gas production has remained fairly constant at about 2,200 million therms per annum, which means that the whole industry has been made considerably more profitable under nationalisation.

The fact is that many new possibilities have opened up for the gas industry in recent years. It has maintained its strong links with the coal industry, especially with the introduction of the Lurgi process of complete gasification of coal without leaving coke. In addition, however, it is becoming more and more tightly wedded to the oil companies. Apart from the gasification of heavy fuel oil, such as is being carried out by the South Eastern Gas Board at the Isle of Grain works, American oil companies are offering shipments of cheap liquified petroleum gas and of naptha. The British Gas industry, however, has at present concentrated on its decision to import shipments of natural methane from the Sahara. This touches the question of E.E.C. very closely because the French are reported to be undertaking the construction of a pipeline from Algeria across the Mediterranean to provide gas for a grid-system throughout the E.E.C.

For the British industry one of the main advantages of being linked to such a system would be the ironing out of fluctuations in demand during the day and, to some extent, during the year. France and Germany already have large underground storage facilities for manufactured gas so that summer production may be saved for heavy winter consumption. In one way or another it looks as though the capital invested in the British gas industry could show considerably greater profit and expansion by being linked with Europe.

Electricity

The British Electricity Authority is the most profitable of all the nationalised industries, having made a gross profit of £18 million in 1960-61; but there is further profit to be made by linking itself with the continent to meet future increased demand.

Apart from its own considerable expansion and storage schemes, the Annual Report of the Electricity Council mentioned the fact that “. . . the cross-channel link with Electricité de France would be coming into commission soon. Because of the difference in the incidence of peak demand in the two countries, 160MW of load could be transferred in either direction with savings to both parties.” This is an arrangement which has been carried through independently of negotiations among politicians about E.E.C. and demonstrates that, however British hearts may feel about loss of national sovereignty and all that, the industrial ties with Europe are strengthening every day.

Ample proof of this last point is given in a report from Turin by Gordon Wilkins in The Observer, November 5th, 1961:

“More British cars may have Italian built bodies as a result of discussions held here this week. One leading British body designer told me it may even prove economical to import Italian-made bodyshells into England, especially if Britain joins the Common Market . . . Pininfarina are making the convertible bodies for the new French Peugeot 404. Bertone are sending coupe bodies to Germany for N.S.U. and B.M.W. Vignale, who have been building a Triumph TR3 body for the Italian market, are planning a TR4 coupe for export. The agreement between Rootes and Carrozzeria Touring for assembly of their cars in Italy may be the forerunner of others. . . . Ghia are doing bodies for the Austin-Healey Sprite, and the latest registration figures show how much the British Motor Corporation have gained by having the A40 built under licence by Innocenti.”

In the same way, Alfa Romeo build the Renault Dauphine under licence, while “Italy’s enormous Fiat interests have car-assembly plants in Belgium and Germany, and expansion plans amounting to hundreds of millions of pounds will put them in all six nations” (Readers’ Digest, July, 1961).

In the metal-using industries motor car manufacture today makes by far the greatest use of mass production and costly automation. It is true that a few small specialist firms still persist among the giants; but million-pound firms like Standard have been shown to be too small to remain independent in the mass market amongst the large federations. Their average rate of profit is too low. Only ruthless standardisation and wider and wider markets can make profitable the immense outlay of constant capital. Now, in Europe national tariffs are preventing the giants from coming properly to grips with one another, as they must, for the dividing up of the market; and so they add their weight to the breaking down of these barriers.

A Crisis

Commentators on the emergence of E.E.C. have said repeatedly that industrial companies will have to “think big” to meet the new situation. Like most of the talk in the press and broadcasting, this masks the real picture. They imply that E.E.C. offers new opportunities for expansion. The truth is much more sombre. Certainly, the Common Market began while Europe was still booming; but if there had been unlimited markets for all there would have been no need for a Common Market.

The truth is that the average rate of profit has been steadily falling, owing to the enormous rate of capital accumulation (these huge investments in production plants that have been mentioned); and the European Common Market is not a fraternal gathering but a battle ground. The survivors in this new phase of European capitalism, therefore, will be the ones who are already big.

In the fields dealt with, however—coal, steel, gas, electricity and motor cars— the majority of small competitors have already been ousted in each European country: they are not available to be sacrificed when the competition becomes merciless. As early as October, 1961, the Daily Express, which has always put out propaganda for Empire and against Britain’s overtures to E.E.C., began to make great play of the fact that the current boom in Europe was falling off, insisting that therefore Britain should not join.

But these are precisely the conditions under which Britain will be forced to join, in order to give its giant capitalist undertakings chance to survive by overpowering weaker giants in Europe. Of course, there is no certainty that British capital will come out of it less bruised than its competitors, and this is the reason for all the uncertainty and haggling. The greatest giants of all, the major oil companies and the largest of the steel and chemical firms, can only gain in the long run. But, of course, they are already international organisations. The emergence of the European Economic Community is the political admission of the economic fact that a sufficiently great change in quantity has become a change in quality.

The icy winds of competition occasionally referred to are spoken of lustily as though they are to be a tonic for our health. Members of the working class hearing such windy talk on television ”reports” may even be persuaded that it will be a ”good thing” if some of the industrial “inefficiency” is to be “weeded out.” They can only be thus tempted into forgetting their own position as workers as long as they persist in believing that all this production is carried on in capitalism for the purpose of supplying people’s needs.

The Socialist knows that it is not so. He also knows that whichever capitalists turn out to be the winners in the growing struggle, workers can only expect to suffer in the upheaval and to be more thoroughly exploited in the future, whether they call themselves Britons or “Europeans.”

S. Stafford

Answers to Correspondents. (1911)

Letters to the Editors from the March 1911 issue of the Socialist Standard

P. Wright.—You are to be congratulated upon the alacrity with which you drop the religious issue. The point you try to uphold, however, is not a whit more defensible. It is not because production is carried on by a class that it is held to be social. Your “syllogism” is therefore beside the point.

“In dealing with production the word ‘social’ does not ’embrace every unit capable of taking part in that production.” You are evidently entangled in the coils of the absolute. All things are relative. The means of production in the middle ages were petty, individual, and practically self-sufficing. Today they are none of these things. Contrasted with the primitive tool the modern machine is a social instrument. The producer with his household is no longer self-sufficing. He depends on the simultaneous activity of millions. Even apart from the modern and essentially social factor of specialisation and the division of labour, the unit of production is now entirely dependent on the existence of huge and complex social organisations and forces, for production, regulation, communication, transport, and exchange. Both historically and economically considered, modern production has an obviously social character ; so much so that it cries aloud for social ownership, and the assertion that it has not this nature to-day is as little worth serious attention as is the statement that the earth is flat.

S. Hadden.—The term “general” means all industries, and contraction can take place, for instance, by a larger amount of profit being converted into revenue.

Better, not more (2026)

Book Review from the March 2026 issue of the Socialist Standard

Less: Stop Buying So Much Rubbish: How Having Fewer, Better Things Can Make Us Happier. By Patrick Grant. William Collins £10.99.

In the August 2022 Socialist Standard, we reviewed Phillip Coggan’s More, which deals with the expansion in production over the centuries. Grant’s book is a kind of counterpart to that, advocating the making of fewer things. The author is a fashion designer, business owner and judge on a TV programme to do with sewing. Here we will focus on his general remarks, rather than his account of his own history in business (he is founder of the Blackburn-based Community Clothing, communityclothing.co.uk).

The development of capitalism meant that the interests of business took precedence over everyone else, including those who did the work and produced the goods. Only the rich benefited from this, and the emphasis switched to increasing output and consumption, rather than happiness. The fashion industry in particular grew via social manipulation, with seasonal fashions having a fixed shelf life. Many companies spend more on marketing and selling their products than on making them, and over thirty percent of all the clothing made is never sold, with fast fashion brands such as Shein and Temu leading the way here. Shein’s marketing strategy is simple: ‘make an unfathomable quantity of incredibly low-quality stuff, sell it cheaply, aggressively acquire customers, swamp the competition.’ A new product is launched every three seconds. A mention of Oscar Wilde’s remark that ‘fashion is merely a form of ugliness so absolutely unbearable that we have to alter it every six months’, would have been apposite here, except that it seems now to be a matter of days rather than months.

The quality of much of what is produced has declined over the last several decades (though cars may well be an exception). Cheaper products usually mean higher profits, of course. Fewer raw materials means clothes are often skinnier, shorter or thinner, and overcoats contain far less wool than they did fifty years ago. From the 60s and 70s, synthetic fibres such as nylon, polyester and acrylic became widely available and many manufacturers of natural-fibre fabrics went out of business, especially as offshoring became more common. The owners of companies that produce poor-quality goods are extremely rich (H&M, for instance). When you buy a garment online, you cannot judge its quality.

Moreover, few people nowadays love their jobs, even though work can contribute to personal happiness. These days far fewer people actually make things for a living, and there is a lack of workers in manual trades, which are not just ‘manual’ as they require a lot of knowledge and cognitive processing. One aim should be the creation of skilled fulfilling local jobs. Clothes, the author argues, can be produced in a way that will ensure that they age so as to provide pleasure to the wearer. Older second-hand goods can still be of high quality, and the better an object is, the more likely it is to be repaired.

There seems to be no mention here of degrowth, but a lot of what Grant advocates would imply a reduction in the amount produced and even an end to the continuous economic growth of capitalism. Much of what he says here could certainly be considered for adoption in a socialist world, but it is hard to see how it could be implemented under capitalism.

Paul Bennett

Art, Labour and Socialism. By Wm. Morris. (1907)

From the August 1907 issue of the Socialist Standard

Reprinted from "To-day."

I am “one of the people called Socialists'; therefore I am certain that evolution in the economic conditions of life will go on, whatever shadowy barriers may be drawn across its path by men whose apparent self-interest binds them, consciously or unconsciously, to the present, and who are therefore hopeless for the future.

I hold that the condition of competition between man and man is bestial only, and that of association human: I think that the change from the undeveloped competition of the Middle Ages, trammelled as it was by the personal relations of feudality, and the attempts at association of the guild-craftsmen into the full-blown laissez-faire competition of the nineteenth century, is bringing to birth out of its own anarchy, and by the very means by which it seeks to perpetuate that anarchy, a spirit of association founded on that antagonism which has produced all former changes in the condition of men, and which will one day abolish all classes and take definite and practical form, and substitute Socialism for competition in all that relates to the production and exchange of the means of life. I further believe that as that change will be beneficent in many ways, so especially will it give an opportunity for the new birth of art, which is now being crushed to death by the money-bags of competitive commerce.

My reason for this hope for art is founded on what I feel quite sure is a truth, and an important one, namely that all art, even the highest, is influenced by the conditions of labour of the mass of mankind, and that any pretensions which may be made for even the highest intellectual art to be independent of these general conditions are futile and vain; that is to say, that any art which professes to be founded on the special education or refinement of a limited body or class must of necessity be unreal and short-lived.

“Art is man’s expression of his joy in labour.” If those are not Professor Ruskin’s words they embody at least his teaching on this subject. Nor has any truth more important ever been stated; for if pleasure in labour be generally possible, what a strange folly it must be for men to consent to labour without pleasure; and what a hideous injustice it must be for society to compel most men to labour without pleasure! For since all men not dishonest must labour, it becomes a question either of forcing them to lead unhappy lives or allowing them to live happily.

Now the chief accusation I have to bring against the modern state of society is that it is founded on the art-lacking or unhappy labour of the greater part of men, and all that external degradation of the face of the country of which I have spoken is hateful to me not only because it is a cause of unhappiness to some few of us who still love art, but also and chiefly because it is a token of the unhappy life forced on the great mass of the population by the system of competitive commerce.

The pleasure which ought to go with the making of every piece of handicraft has for its basis the keen interest which every healthy man takes in healthy life, and is compounded, it seems to me, chiefly of three elements—variety, hope of creation, and the self-respect which comes of a sense of usefulness, to which must be added that mysterious bodily pleasure which goes with the deft exercise of the bodily powers. I do not think I need spend many words in trying to prove that these things, if they really and fully accompanied labour, would do much to make it pleasant. As to the pleasure of variety, any of you who have ever made anything—I don’t care what—will well remember the pleasure that went with the turning out of the first specimen. What would have become of that pleasure if you had been compelled to go on making it exactly the same for ever?

As to the hope of creation, the hope of producing some worthy or even excellent work, which, without you, the craftsmen, would not have existed at all, a thing which needs you and can have no substitute for you in the making of it, can we any of us fail to understand the pleasure of this?

No less easy, surely, is it to see how much the self-respect born of the consciousness of usefulness must sweeten labour. To feel that you have to do a thing not to satisfy the whim of a fool or a set of fools, but because it is really good in itself, that is useful, would surely be a good help to getting through the day’s work.

As to the unreasoning, sensuous pleasure in handiwork, I believe in good sooth that it has more power of getting rough and strenuous work out of men, even as things go, than most people imagine. At any rate it lies at the bottom of the production of all art, which cannot exist without it even in its feeblest and rudest form.

Now this compound pleasure in handiwork I claim as the birth right of all workmen. I say that if they lack any part of it they will be so far degraded, but that if they lack it altogether they are, as far as their work goes, I will not say slaves, the word would not be strong enough, but machines more or less conscious of their own unhappiness.

* * * * *

The craftsman of the Middle Ages no doubt often suffered grievous material oppression, yet in spite of the rigid line of separation drawn by the hierarchical system under which he lived between him and his feudal superior, the difference between them was arbitrary rather than real; there was no such gulf in language, manners, and ideas as divides a cultivated middle-class person of to-day, a “gentleman,” from even a respectable lower-class man; the mental qualities necessary to an artist—intelligence, fancy, imagination—had not then to go through the mill of the competitive market, nor had the rich (or successful competitors) made good their claim to be the sole possessors of mental refinement.

As to the conditions of handiwork in those days, the crafts were drawn together into guilds which indeed divided the occupations of men rigidly enough, and guarded the door to those occupations jealously; but as outside among the guilds there was little competition in the markets, wares being made in the first instance for domestic consumption, and only the overplus of what was wanted at home close to the place of production ever coming into the market or requiring any one to come and go between the producer and consumer, so inside the guilds there was but little division of labour; a man or youth once accepted as an apprentice to a craft learned it from end to end, and became as a matter of course the master of it; and in the earlier days of the guilds, when the masters were scarcely even small capitalists, there was no grade in the craft save this temporary one. Later on, when the masters became capitalists of a sort, and the apprentices were, like the masters, privileged, the class of journeyman craftsman came into existence; but it does not seem that the difference between them and the aristocracy of the guild was anything more than an arbitrary one. In short, during all this period the unit of labour was an intelligent man.

Under this system of handiwork no great pressure of speed was put on a man’s work, but he was allowed to carry it through leisurely and thoughtfully; it used the whole of a man for the production of a piece of goods, and not small portions of many men; it developed the workman’s whole intelligence according to his capacity, instead of concentrating his energy on one-sided dealing with a trifling piece of work; in short, it did not submit the hand and soul of the workman to the necessities of the competitive market, but allowed them freedom for due human development.

It was this system, which had not learned the lesson that man was made for commerce, but supposed in its simplicity that commerce was made for man, which produced the art of the Middle Ages, wherein the harmonious co-operation of free intelligence was carried to the furthest point which has yet been attained, and which alone of all art can claim to be called Free.

The effect of this freedom, and the widespread or rather universal sense of beauty to which it gave birth, became obvious enough in the outburst of the expression of splendid and copious genius which marks the Italian Renaissance. Nor can it be doubted that this glorious art was the fruit of the five centuries of free popular art which preceded it, and not of the rise of commercialism which was contemporaneous with it; for the glory of the Renaissance faded out with strange rapidity as commercial competition developed, so that about the end of the seventeenth century, both in the Intellectual and the Decorative arts the commonplace or body still existed, but the romance or soul of them was gone. Step by step they had faded and sickened before the advance of commercialism, now speedily gathering force throughout civilisation. The domestic or architectural arts were becoming (or become) mere toys for the competitive market through which all material wares used by civilised men now had to pass.

Commercialism had by this time well-nigh destroyed the craft-system of labour, in which, as aforesaid, the unit of labour is a fully-instructed craftsman, and had supplanted it by what I will ask leave to call the workshop system, wherein, when complete, division of labour in handiwork is carried to the highest point possible, and the unit of manufacture is no longer a man, but a group of men, each member of which is dependent on his fellows, and is utterly useless by himself. This system of the workshop division of labour was perfected during the eighteenth century by the efforts of the manufacturing classes, stimulated by the demands of the ever-widening markets; it is still the system in some of the smaller and more domestic kinds of manufacture, holding much the same place amongst us as the remains of the craft-system did in the days when that of the workshop was still young. Under this system, as I have said, all the romance of the arts died out, but the commonplace of them flourished still; for the idea that the essential aim of manufacture is the making of goods still struggled with a newer idea which has since obtained complete victory, namely, that it is carried on for the sake of making a profit for the manufacturer on the one hand, and on the other for the employment of the working class.

This idea of commerce being an end in itself and not a means merely, being but half developed in the eighteenth century, the special period of the workshop system, some interest could still be taken in those days in the making of wares. The capitalist manufacturer of the period had some pride in turning out goods which would do him credit, as the phrase went; he was not willing wholly to sacrifice his pleasure in this kind to the imperious demands of commerce; even his workman, though no longer an artist, that is a free workman, was bound to have skill in his craft, limited though it was to the small fragment of it which he had to toil at day by day for his whole life.

But commerce went on growing, stimulated still more by the opening up of new markets, and pushed on the invention of men, till their ingenuity produced the machines which we have now got to look upon as necessities of manufacture, and which have brought about a system the very opposite to the ancient craft-system; that system was fixed and conservative of methods; there was no real difference in the method of making a piece of goods between the time of Pliny and the time of Sir Thomas More; the method of manufacture, on the contrary, in the present time, alters not merely from decade to decade, but from year to year; this fact has naturally helped the victory of this machine system, the system of the Factory, where the machine-like workmen of the workshop period are supplanted by actual machines, of which the operatives as they are now called are but a portion, and a portion gradually diminishing both in importance and numbers.

This system is still short of its full development, therefore to a certain extent the workshop system is being carried on side by side with it, but it is being speedily and steadily crushed out by it; and when the process is complete, the skilled workman will no longer exist, and his place will be filled by machines directed by a few highly trained and very intelligent experts, and tended by a multitude of people, men, women, and children, of whom neither skill nor intelligence is required.

This system, I repeat, is as near as may be the opposite of that which produced the popular art which led up to that splendid outburst of art in the days of the Italian Renaissance which even cultivated men will sometimes deign to notice now-a-days; it has therefore produced the opposite of what the old craft-system produced, the death of art and not its birth; in other words the degradation of the external surroundings of life—or simply and plainly unhappiness. Through all society spreads that curse of unhappiness: from the poor wretches, the news of whom we middle-class people are just now receiving with such naive wonder and horror: from those poor people whom nature forces to strive against hope, and to expend all the divine energy of man in competing for something less than a dog’s lodging and a dog’s food, from them up to the cultivated and refined person, well lodged, well fed, well clothed, expensively educated, but lacking all interest in life except, it may be, the cultivation of unhappiness as a fine art.

(To be continued)

Hire Purchase (1955)

From the June 1955 issue of the Socialist Standard

“To Have and Have Not”

It is often said that Punch is the great social historian of the last 100 years. Since comic journals thrive on aptness rather than humour, they do in fact provide a minor guide to changes in manners and morals.

A joke that has entirely disappeared now is the one about “the instalments on the furniture.” Continually, in magazines of the 1920’s little boys blurted out that the settee wasn't paid for, and men called to take back the chairs when guests had come to tea—the psychology being that, 25 years ago, to buy on hire-purchase was to have a guilty secret.

All different nowadays, of course. There are even good, wise reasons for instalment buying: for example, if the thing goes wrong the firm will see to it. Hire-purchase is an accepted social fact. Last year, half the radio sets, seven-tenths of the furniture and bedding and vacuum cleaners and TV sets, and nearly all the refrigerators and washing machines sold in this country were bought on hire-purchase. “Cash only” shops are the exceptions now, and very recently the instalment system has spread as far as air travel and holidays.

That is not to say all reprehension of hire-purchase has ceased. Generally, there have been two sorts of objections to it. The one voiced by most working people in the past was strictly practical: “I’m hanging no millstone of weekly payments round my neck,” said the poor, poverty-hardened man in Love on the Dole. The other objection was that to have something before paying for is wrong—apparently a moral view but in fact only cash customer’s attitude. The people who largely held that view were the better-off, professional and black-coated workers; since the war their position has declined, and so consequently has their moral objection to hire-purchase. Many of the “swell” shops, in fact, now advertize hire-purchase facilities.

Hire-purchase trading has gone on for at least a century. Before 1914 it was mainly a hole-and-corner business (nevertheless, plenty of suits were bought at a shilling a week). Its growth between two wars went with the mass-production of cheap luxuries—gramophones, bicycles, radio sets; the first legislation to regularize it in this country was in 1938. The great boom in instalment buying came after the second war, however. Some idea of its extent is given by the banks’ statement of their loans to hire-purchase finance companies. The total in February, 1955, was £30,493,000, compared with £11,188,000 in February, 1954. The sum actually was greater, since many loans for general trading went mainly into hire-purchase; and in the same period several of the companies made capital issues.

Few shops finance their own hire-purchase trading—in fact, only the very big ones. Most of them borrow from hire-purchase credit companies, which often buy the goods themselves, receive the instalments themselves, and leave the shopkeeper as little more than an agent. There are several organizations for checking on prospective buyers. Every hire-purchase customer has his particulars filed (including how he pays); investigators discover all they can about him, and the information is filed for future reference. In America, according to a recent Picture Post article, the files include; “. . . intimate details and frank character assessments. Facts include positions and salaries of all members of a family, bank balances, litigation records, all past time buying deals, estimates of business or professional prospects, value of house or mortgage position, or amount of rent and how paid, local reputation and probably social habits. Police records are included.”

Hire-purchase buying is dear. It has to be. There are the book-keeping and the postage and the enquiry fees and the advertisements (last year the Gas Council and Hoover Products each spent about a quarter of a million pounds on advertizing); the “free” maintenance is really, of course, covered in the cost. The rates of interest range from five to ten per cent. At least, those are the nominal figures: calculated on a diminishing debt they are much higher—over two years, the usual period for furniture, they actually average out at something like 20 per cent. The number of bad debts is said to be small, and hire-purchase firms try everything before resorting to court action, which usually is fruitless for them.

Outside the main stream of instalment trading, there are innumerable related concerns; for example, the cooperative societies’ “mutuality shares,” where vouchers are issued to be exchanged for all sorts of goods. Then there are the clothing clubs, and a host of door-to-door easy-payment salesmen—many of the latter charging rates of interest which are exorbitant even by hire-purchase standards, and having no advertizing or accounting costs to speak of. Incidentally, cars do not figure in hire-purchase as much as would be imagined; most are bought by bank overdraft and re-mortgaging houses.

From the economists’ point of view, instalment buying is simply the form taken by the demand for certain sorts of goods today. Thus, when the number of new contracts fell last year in America, the Government hurriedly urged traders to get things back to normal. And in this country the recent restrictions on hire-purchase were headlined by the Manchester Guardian as “Plans to Limit Demand for Goods.” A fair enough estimate; with the minimum deposit raised to 15 per cent., the demand for furniture has fallen to not much more than half what it was a year ago.

To see hire-purchase as something which—vide Fyfe Robertson in Picture Post—"puts real wealth, which otherwise would not be acquired so quickly, into consumers’ hands and raises living standards,” is to grasp flight appearances, however. It is easy enough to point to all the television sets, but television is only the newest replacement for the piano, and pianos were a far greater luxury in their heyday. Before the wireless era, one cost as much as a television set today—that is, anything between £40 and £70, at a time when money wages were much lower.

But to consider living standards in terms of luxuries is to succumb to advertizers’ patter. The fact is that working people obtain luxuries only at the expense of other things. How can a family with £8 a week get them otherwise? The other things may, of course, be minor luxuries themselves—drinking, pictures, smoking; a small boom in smoking cures has accompanied the big one in hire-purchase. They may, on the other hand, be necessities—food and clothing; or the “solution” for a good many families is the wives’ going to work. Whichever way it is, there is not much to confirm the idea of better, more gracious living for the working class.

“Luxuries” is the wrong word, anyway. There is nothing luxurious about buying clothes by instalments, knowing they will be half worn-out before they are paid for: “pay as you wear” has the sound of eternity. True, furniture is more durable—it is outmoded instead of wearing out in two or three years. A favourite sneer of precious suburban aesthetes is that working people lack taste. An ignorant untruth, as the beautiful little gardens in the dingiest surroundings show; but in any case, there is no scope, for modishness when things are bought over two years to last for 20. Most people, in fact, buy furniture only once in their lives—as the hire-purchase advertisements, with their single-minded appeal to the newlywed testify.

Probably the best example of this sort of thing is the way in which television sets have superseded one another since the war. Each latest model, gaining its owner the maximum of prestige, has been rendered inferior long before the final payment. There cannot be much feeling of luxury about having given up smoking to buy a set with a nine-inch screen five years ago and finding it primitive by today’s 17-inch standards.

The truth is that hire-purchase is a monument to poverty, not a pillar of prosperity. People can buy more things, by whatever method, only if they have more money. For a year or so after the war there was no hire-purchase; it began as the briefly spectacular spending of the gratuity era faded. It is hard to believe that anybody enjoys paying instalments—indeed, these commitments add to the tension of modern living. There is no alternative except going without, however. It is all very well to think people can save up to buy, but it doesn’t work out like that—and in any rase, it means going without just the same. The rise of hire-purchase and the decline of the pawnshop are probably not unconnected.

The average gross wage of male workers today is just under £9; for women, it is just over £5. According to the Chancellor of Exchequer in November last year, there were 8,600,000 receiving less than 96s. a week. Compare those figures with pre-war ones, remembering the cost of living today as 2 1/3 times what it was in 1938. In that year, 63.2 per cent, of the families in Britain received under £5 a week, and 11.8 per cent, between £5 and £10. About the same time, John Strachey did some calculations—slightly tortuous, admittedly—in “The Theory and Practice of Socialism” to show that “the real earnings of the working class in 1934 were only 91.1 per cent., of what they were in 1900.” The only conclusion is that the buying power of working people is much the same as it has always been—small; hire-purchase is the latest manifestation of the smallness.

One other aspect of hire-purchase needs to be mentioned. It helps to discipline the working class. The man with heavy commitments—or the American worker who values his “credit rating”—is the man who must keep his job at all costs. Bernard Shaw’s Andrew Undershaft preferred religious workmen because they were sober and honest and amenable; nowadays his ideal would be the employee buying a dining-room suite. The recent Government Economic Survey mentioned that more than a quarter of industrial operatives worked overtime last year, and it is a sad but fair comment that more than a quarter probably want to work overtime this year, too.

Ours is the age of mass-production. One would imagine it to be an age of plenty, but it is not so. It is a queer reflection that, in this world of science and power, the majority of people have to buy trashy products bit by bit and perhaps abstain from necessities in the process. Profit is often imagined as the greatest incentive to progress; in reality, it is the fetter. The hire-purchase system is a fresh pointer to the outstanding contradiction of capitalism: the inability of a productive system which has industrialized the world to perform the only real function of production—the satisfaction of people’s needs.

Robert Barltrop

Letter: Common-Ownership? (1961)

Letter to the Editors from the April 1961 issue of the Socialist Standard

Common-Ownership?

I thank you for the interesting reply you give to my letter. It is the more welcome because it does meet the principle points of difference between us. even if I am right in my submission that it promptly runs away from them again. For example.,"common-ownership" is accepted by both of us, but in whom is it to be vested, and how? The term covers a multitude of possibilities unless closely defined. President Nkrumah of Ghana lists four "sectors" of his country's proposed economy, “state-owned, joint state-private enterprise, co-operatives, and purely private." You would, of course, reject two of these, but what of the other alternatives, or have you one of your own? Again, you postulate "assessment of needs and the means to fulfil them," but who is to assess? I am not arguing, mark, that assessments cannot be made. They obviously can be made about many things. But I want to know about it and I feel that a means-test of any variety should be repugnant to both of us. Of course, you do not mention anything of the kind, but what do you mean?

These are not trivial points for they involve the tremendous issue of administrative tyranny against communal freedom, state-ism against decentralisation; indeed, syndicalism versus the commune. Where do you stand? Arc you for high-powered mass-production run by trades-unions on Fascist lines with Coventry and castor-oil complete for "deviationists," a vast factory system with "scientific" direction of labour in a monstrous mechanism under an ultimately totalitarian though differently labelled state, or for the comely life of production for use in free cooperative groups for the most part, and under only the most resilient form possible of overhead government? Arc you for mass-production of everything despite the fact that, as every good farmer knows, mass farming it bad farming, and the other fact that quality craftsmanship beats factory products in length of life four or five times over. Mass-production is for the masses; who but they would touch it? In food products and manufactures alike it is recognised (by the advertising world) that it costs six limes as much to sell an article at it does to make it. The difference is in transport costs, insurances, marketing charges, multifarious agency profits, wholesale and retail percentages—all arising from remote and competitive marketing, and all to be avoided, as Socialism would avoid them (or largely so), by leaving production and consumption to loosely articulated small units wherever possible.

There are hundred upon hundreds of successful co-operative groups in Britain today producing for use. sharing small machinery socially and employing expert advice. The point I wish to make here is that there is nothing to stop such development except the fact that the workers are in the main indifferent. There are the orthodox co-operative societies, of course, numbering in membership ten millions, a quarter of the population, owning the meant and instruments of production and distribution. They are run as capitalist concerns and the excuse of socially conscious members is that they have to meet capitalist competition! "We have to beat the band!". What rubbish! The business of any genuine co-operative group is not to beat anything or anybody, but to co-operate. Of course, big business can “beat" the workers on its own ground, but how shall it beat the co-operative will? Above all, how beat production for use?

As it stands, however, the co-operative societies, after a-century-and-a-half's dedicated (so it is alleged) membership rise to the giddy height of "save up for summer holidays" but fall lamentably short of any co-operative commonwealth whatever. Why? Not because there is anything at all in the way unless the competitive rat-race is still held sacred. It is because the workers neither understand Socialism nor want it.

The choice before us between freedom and slavery. The one is possible only where control of the means of production is direct and immediate, just as democracy is possible only where the people are in direct and effective touch with public affairs. The other cannot be more than an impersonal power process to be rendered quite ghastly by modern automation and atomic energy.

We who claim to be Socialists used to acclaim freedom. With the present drift towards a totalitarian economy, and in trades-union politics the one-party state, your own utopian belief in a miraculous “dawn ” upon the morrow of an equally miraculous release of pent-up proletarian virtue is as abstract and full of holes as a Henry Moore sculpture.

Amwell.

Belsize Park. N.W.3.

Reply:

Lord Amwell wants to know in whom common ownership is vested, and how?

The definition we gave was that everything that is in and on the earth would be the common possession of all mankind. In our property and privilege ridden society it is not easy to give a helpful illustration of what we mean, but we will try.

Air is the common possession of all mankind. you can breathe as much of it as you like without anyone raising an objection. Similarly you can drink as much water as you like at a public fountain. In both instances each person determines what he or she needs. The same process will operate in the future with food, clothing, shelter and everything else. The people with the intelligence to build up the new society will also have the intelligence not to expect the impossible.

In the Socialist Party of Great Britain different members, and groups of members, are appointed to perform the necessary work in the organisation and propaganda of the Party. For example, the Literature Committee finds out from branches what literature they require—the local branches do the assessing. They make an estimate from experience of what further supplies are required. They then obtain from the printer the total amount they have arrived at and proceed to fulfil the needs of branches and individuals. There is no administrative tyranny in this, it is purely a technical problem. While it is true that the Socialist Party is small, and therefore the problem is not a great one, yet in the future a similar procedure will be adopted in harmony with the size and complexity of society's needs.

Production in each area will be based on what individuals in that area need—they will make their own assessment of what they need. Experience will enable the production assessors to have available sufficient in quantity and variety to fulfil these needs. The articles will be available in suitable places in the area and all that people will have to do is to go there and take what they want. We used the example of a self-service store in the limited sense that people can go there and take what they want of what is available. In that instance, of course, they nave to pay for what they take—in the future they will just take.

While the new society is getting on its feet there may be people who, still affected with the possessive inclinations of the past, may want to load themselves up with more than they need. Well, whal of it? They will soon get tired of their stupid and unnecessary efforts.

In our view each community will Ik as self-supporting as possible Some things, however, will need extra community arrangements: like raw material, travel, correspondence, and so forth. These arrangements are just technical questions which can be dealt with by groups of people at given centres who are interested in this kind of work. In the future society there will be no isolated communities, split off from the rest of the world. They will all be part of a world Socialist system, decentralised but each working in harmony with the rest, without statism or tyranny, to enable everyone to live a useful, interesting and satisfactory life. If there are occupations that are necessary but uninteresting then some method of sharing will be devised.

This brings us to the question of mass production. Whether or how far there will be mass production we cannot say now. A great deal that is mass produced nowadays will be unnecessary in the future—armament production is one example. The mass produced article is as a rule the cheap, the short-lived and the lacking in variety. Whether mass production saves a really appreciable amount of labour in the long run is questionable. But what is not questionable is that it is soul-destroying work. Obviously the aim will be to limit that kind of work as much as possible. The accent will be on craftsmanship. and if mass production still operates it will only be in operation in instances where it is essential for the benefit of tho community. More than this we cannot say.

We agree with Lord Amwell’s description of orthodox co-operative societies as just capitalist concerns in which petty investors have neither control nor influence, though they can make a lot of noise at times.

Finally, we do not believe in any miraculous dawn. We believe in the development of understanding, which will be transferred into action by the mass of the population who suffer the present system. Socialism can only be established when the majority of society understand it, want it, and take action to bring it about. There is no other way, but there are plenty of roads into the morass of confusion and disillusion.

Editorial Committee.

Blogger's Note:

I'm not 100% sure which previous letter Lord Amwell (Fred Montague) was following up on but it may have been this one from the October 1960 issue of the Socialist Standard.

Mass Production and Mass Minds (1954)

From the October 1954 issue of the Socialist Standard

Have we developed a mass-mind as a result of the development and extension of mass production? There certainly seems evidence to support the contention. Mass-production has not only affected the factory worker but also the office workers, who now normally specialize in one small part of the accounting system, as invoice typists, comptometer operators, filing clerks, etc. Again with the extension of the multiple shop and departmental store the assistants now spend their working lives handling a very limited range of commodities. This trend towards greater degrees of specialization is consistently the case throughout society and seems to keep in step with the development of mass production.

Fifty years ago, a man’s occupation could be fairly accurately guessed by a glance at his clothes. The navvy wearing corduroys and with his lunch wrapped up in a spotted red handkerchief, the workman with a choker round his neck, the farm labourer with his distinctive dress, the cab driver, etc. Their occupations could be easily seen. But with the development of mass-production it would seem as if our tastes are similarly affected. Choice of clothes, for instance, seems to have become standardised. The felt hat, collar and tie, are worn by men irrespective of whether they have a “white-collar job.” Even the differences of dress between national groups have largely been obliterated. When we are in the cinema we find difficulty in guessing the nationality of men and women we see' in the new films by reference to the clothes they are wearing.

Millions choose the same leisure-time occupation of filling in football pool coupons. Holiday camps where many of the amusements remind one of a factory are becoming the thing for a growing number of people. The most widely read newspapers are those that could be criticized most. Book-printing has become a mass-production business turning out large numbers of escapist publications with a mushroom like existence. In this trade an author has a number of noms-de-plume. Under each one he writes a constant stream of books which are but variations of a single theme which his readers have come to expect

All of which seems to underline the charge that the last 50 years of technical development have succeeded in creating a population who think en masse. This is not merely a national phenomenon but applies to the whole world of capitalism. It would seem at first sight as if the group herd instinct of primitive man has developed into a world-wide herd instinct

But further examination of the subject may make us form a different diagnosis of this developing pattern of human behaviour.

There was a time when primitive man was unable to identify himself apart from the herd. Then there were taboos. Experience in the form of continual sickness or death of the members of a tribe living in a certain place might indicate that such an area was unhealthy and, without understanding the reasons for such calamities, the tribe would institute a taboo preventing their people from living in the area. The reason for this prohibition would in the passage of time be forgotten and the taboo would then assume a magical significance. By the method of trial and error taboos were enforced without the need for thought. But contrast this state of affairs with what goes on to-day. Ask any worker why he is interested in football pools and he will probably make a reasoned and logical statement to the effect that he could badly do with the prize money that is offered and that this is about the only chance he has of acquiring such wealth. Moreover interest in football results create a hobby for him, perhaps the only one he considers he can afford. It will also be apparent that an individual decision was made to “invest in” the pools in each case and that that decision was reached only after some thought. The mass-produced newspapers clinch the argument of the existence of the mass-mind as far as some are concerned but if the contents of the papers that were read 50 years ago were compared with those of today perhaps different conclusions would be reached. For instance, the argument used then to rally working-class support for war was crude and jingoistic. But now the workers are called upon to defend trade union rights and democracy against the dictators who are represented as enemies of the working-class. The ruling-class, in the arguments that they use now today in their newspapers, pay tribute to the advanced level of working class power of thought.

As regards the books that are read, while it is true that a vast quantity of escapist material is printed, it may come as a shock of surprise—and pleasure—to learn that the classics have a popularity nearly as great, as The Times of 28/11/52 points out. This trend has been stimulated by the reprints that mass production has turned out at low prices. There is in addition a great sale of scientific and instructional books of which many have been best sellers. Even popular magazines, which are so criticised by the pessimists, are found to contain instructional and scientific articles covering a wide range of subjects. Fifty years ago such articles would have appeared only in the technical journals of that particular field of science. These popular magazines, which look like proof of a mass-mind, are really evidence of spreading interest among the people.

If 100,000 people are ready to buy a book on the nature of the universe, there is a mass demand at the bookshops. This mass demand is not a proof of falling standards; it means that thousands are being educated, who, 50 years ago would have been left in the illiterate mass.

Minds are creative, mankind today thinks, and thoughts cannot permanently be suppressed by dictators, concentration camps or lying ruling-class propaganda. People are educated primarily to think for the purpose of making them more efficient wage-slaves but the process does not stop there.

Fifty years of technical development have surely had an effect on the mentality of man, but the change that is taking place may well encourage the efforts of the Socialist movement.

Frank Offord