Editorial: Hit Below The Pocket. (1910)

Editorial from the September 1910 issue of the Socialist Standard

There is much fluttering in the pigeon-roosts of “Labour.” The Osborne judgment—and the dozen or so of injunctions forbidding the use of Trade Union funds for political purposes look very much like ending the all too long career of Keir Hardie’s fledgling and at the same time spoiling the political chances of many of our Labour mis-leaders, actual and potential.

The organ of the I.L.P. waxes truculent over this “insidious” attack, in telling of how the wicked Tories are bludgeoning and bullying the innocent trade unionist, and how the Liberals refuse to help the poor victim—and of the militant methods (whatever that may mean) the Party will be compelled to have recourse to. A deadly blow has been aimed at Labour, say they. But have not the “ Labour” crowd boasted of the one and three quarter millions of trade unionists who have united with the Socialists (sic) to march solidly forward to win—“fair representation" and other dainties? Why the rumpus, then ? If the boast be well founded, surely no such paltry incidents as these injunctions could separate these brave companions in arms — could prevent them from providing the election expenses and maintenance of their representatives.

But no; it seems that with the legal restraint on the union machine's power to stop a member's benefit, to expel him, and even to hinder him from working at his trade, there goes by the board at the same time the very basis of the so-called Labour Party. So the Party, then, depended for its existence upon the terrorising of trade unionists! Such seems a fair deduction from the insistence of the Party leaders that the unions have the power to compulsorily levy their members for political purposes. Of course, the leaders tell us that their whole concern is for the natural right of the unions, or rather the voting majority, to use the funds for such purpose. They are all for "liberty"and “Labour's rights." Yes, but they don't fool all of us !

And what remedies do our good men propose ? For them once a “special appeal has been made . . . to all the affiliated societies of the Party and to personal friends of the movement to subscribe a special fighting fund ; while the trade unions are being asked to subscribe 250,000 sixpences for the fund." If we know our trade unionists at all,  judicious coaxing will required to extract those “tanners," and that the wire pullers of the I.L.P and Labour Party fear as much is manifest from their agent’s statement that “during the Autumn a series of meetings will be held in all parts of the country urging the claims of the appeal", and also from the curious fact that the Party executive confines its demands to the modest proportion of 250,000 subs from a boasted membership of seven times 250,000. We fancy those “personal friends’’ will be in request.

The Parliamentary victims of these law court machinations have been recommended to transfer their energies to securing the State payment of Members of Parliament and of Returning Officers’ fees. But while “the Party as such associated itself with the movement in favour of this reform,” we are told that “it will only be palliative and can in no sense restore the position which the Osborne decision has temporarily destroyed.” In other words the status ante Osborne was far preferable and is to be re-established if possible; while some members are dead against State payment altogether. But why this decline of enthusiasm for the old Radical reform ? Is it because these lovers of democracy, Ramsay MacDonald and the rest of them, are anxious to remain under the supposed control of the rank and file through dependence on these for their maintenance ? Or is it not rather because these good people, through the present electoral law and their control of trade union funds, have had practically a monopoly of the political Labour-leader business, and consequently are not at all prepared to share seats and candidatures with various smaller organisations, which would, with payment of members, etc., have a better show in the game.

Altogether the situation is most interesting, and the efforts of the Lib-Lab and quasi-Socialist schemers, who are largely responsible for the present political backwardness of the working class in this country, to disentangle themselves from a most awkward and threatening situation should receive the critical attention of all who have the cause of the working class at heart.

Our New Pamphlet. (1910)

Editorial from the September 1910 issue of the Socialist Standard

Our new pamphlet has had a fine reception at the hands of the working class, being everywhere bought and assiduously read. Its scientific character is particularly appreciated—a fact that bodes well for its usefulness as an instrument for clearing the working-class mind of superstition and the political field of quacks. We are not yet in a position to deal with the criticisms that such a complacency disturbing manifesto must inevitably call forth. That is a treat to follow. Meanwhile the first edition is so near exhaustion that the Executive Committee have already taken the first steps toward the publication of a second and larger edition, thus insuring that the Party’s message of deliverance from bondage, economic and mental, shall be carried to the farthest limits of capitalism.

Review: "Wake Up, England!" (1910)

Book Review from the September 1910 issue of the Socialist Standard

"Wake Up, England! Being the Story of John Bull—Socialist.” by Edward Prince (St. Stephen's Press)

This is a stupid book — a clumsy book. It is addressed more particularly to anti-Socialists, and, in the guise of a badly written tale, endeavours to convey some idea of the state of things thirty years after the Revolution. The author would certainly have succeeded better had Nature, endowed him with a brain, but there, as the volume is directed to those equally lacking in intelligence, no great harm will be done.

But to get on with the ganglionic perturbation under notice. The chief character is a doctor, a man whose mental calibre may be estimated quite as highly as the author’s, when it is known that although he worked and voted for Socialism and lived for thirty years after its advent, at the end of that period he knows nothing about it. The “hero” of the book, John Bull, is a weak, phthisical boy, a manifest importation from capitalism, with bad eyes, a morose, taciturn disposition, a longing to be alone, and a hatred of his kind. He attempts to murder a man who runs off with his wife, and finishes up by drowning himself. Another “great” character, with a longing for the “good old times,” is William Sykes, who did a “night’s work" in the days of capitalism and came out of prison after the establishment of the new order. With this single exception, and that attended with disaster, Bill Sykes had never done a stroke of work in his life, and his misguided father, just before quitting this vale of tears, reproached him with being a tramp, and left him 10s. a week and a cottage so that toil and Bill Sykes should for ever remain estranged. Bill, by waging a kind of guerrilla warfare with the “ fishals” succeeds in living as a parasite upon his fellows, a fact which seems to afford our author immense satisfaction.

The officials, by the way, are most carious creatures—weird composites of all that is most petty and tyrannical in the vilest of capitalist shop-foremen, the most parsimonious of poor-law guardians, and the most stupid of police inspectors. By everyone hated and despised, the author is compelled to invent an impossibility to account for their retention of office. He calls it “being responsible for a majority.” Exactly how it works is not apparent to those devoid of the eye of faith. It may be clear to the author, but his secret is safe, anyway.

In brief, this bile-producing ‘‘work” is a very bad rehash of the “break-up of-family-life,” “Socialism — means — Atheism, therefore — bad,” “Socialism-means-death to-incentive” tags: silly statements, as we all know, with which Methuselah whiled away his childhood. After perusing this colossal tome the inhabitants of Frying Pan Ally and Paradise Place will number themselves with the happiest of mortals. The free and independent citizen who is fifteen weeks in arrear with the rent, and finds himself and his family kicked out in the rain, will still be able to gaze into the smiling, sunny faces of his emaciated family and congratulate himself on the preservation of his family life, his immortal soul, and his incentive —especially his incentive. He can still say as the sole drops off his only boot and he gets run in for being without visible means, “thank Gawd it aint Sosherlism, anyhow ! ”

The present writer is glad he hasn't got it on his conscience that he paid for the copy he has read.

Wilfred.