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181 pages, Paperback
First published January 28, 1973
At the very time when the 'irresistible trends of modern society' seemed to be leading us to a mass society of enslaved consumers they are reminding us of the truth that the irresistible is simply that which is not resisted.
Obviously some people are conspicuously lacking in this pent-up anxiety and guilt, the kind of people who are singularly successful in supportive, rather than punitive, work with delinquents or deviants, people who are sufficiently at ease with themselves to cope with the mental strain, the irritation and time-consuming tedium which our deviants frequently impose on us. If we want to change society it is probably more important for us to find out what produces people like them than to find out what makes delinquents.
Discipline, routine, obedience and submission were the characteristics sought in the well-regulated institution, best obtained in an enclosed environment, away from the distractions, comforts, seductions and dangerous liberties of ordinary society. In the nineteenth century - the great institution-building age - indeed, the same characteristics were sought in the ordinary 'open' institutions of outside society, the factory, the school, the developing civil service, the patriarchal family.
And John Vaizey, remarking that "everything in our social life is capable of being institutionalised, and it seems to me that our political energies should be devoted to restraining institutions" says that "above all ... institutions give inadequate people what they want - power. Army officers, hospital sisters, prison warders - many of these people are inadequate and unfulfilled and they lust for power and control."
There seems to be an immense anxiety and fear floating around in our society which is out of proportion to actual dangers.
Welfare is administered by a top-heavy governmental machine which ensures that when economies in public expenditure are imposed by its political masters, they are made by reducing the service to the public, not by reducing the cost of administration.
We are always offering superior advice to those third world countries where 'aid' is dissipated in the cost of administering it, but we are in just the same situation ourselves.
One of the possibilities they see is of a dual labour market: a high-pay, high-technology, aristocracy of labour and a low-wage, low-skill sector, and beyond both the mafiosi of big bosses and little crooks.
Suppose the only plausible economic recovery consists in people picking themselves up off the industrial scraphead, or rejecting their slot in the micro-technology system, and making their own niche in the world of ordinary needs and their satisfaction.
Why do people consent to be ruled? It isn't only fear; what have millions of people to fear from a small group of professional politicians and their paid strong-arm men?
It is as though every individual possessed a certain quantity of power, but that by default, negligence, or thoughtless and unimaginative habit or conditioning, he has allowed someone else to pick it up, rather than use it himself for his own purposes.
He gives this as a homely example: "If the butcher weighs one's meat with his thumb on the scale, one may complain about it and tell him he is a bandit who robs the poor, and if he persists and one does nothing else, this is mere talk; one may call the Department of Weights and Measures, and this is indirect action; or one may, talk failing, insist on weighing one's own meat, bring along a scale to check the butcher's weight, take one's business somewhere else, help open a cooperative store, and these are direct actions." Wiecks observes that: "Proceeding with the belief that in every situation, every individual and group has the possibility of some direct action on some level of generality, we may discover much that has been unrecognized, and the importance of much that has been under-rated. So politicalised is our thinking, so focused to the motions of governmental institutions, that the effects of direct efforts to modify one's environment are unexplored. The habit of direct action is, perhaps, identical with the habit of being a free man, prepared to live responsibly in a free society."
An interesting and deliberate example of the theory of spontaneous organisation in operation was provided by the Pioneer Health Centre at Peckham in South London. This was started in the decade before the Second World War by a group of physicians and biologists who wanted to study the nature of health and of healthy behaviour instead of studying ill-health like the rest of the medical profession.
We usually conclude that the punitive, interfering lover of order is usually so because of his own unfreedom and insecurity. The tolerant condoner of disorder is a recognisably different kind of character, and the reader will have no doubt which of the two is easier to live with.
The military psychologists learned that what they considered to be leader or follower traits are not exhibited in isolation. They are, as one of them wrote, "relative to a specific social situation - leadership varied from situation to situation and from group to group."
Elsewhere in his paper on 'work democracy' he notes that: "If personal enmities, intrigues and political manoeuvres make their appearance in an organisation, one can be sure that its members no longer have a factual meeting ground in common, that they are no longer held together by a common work interest..."
Most people in fact are 'educated' beyond their level in the industrial pyramid. Their capacity for invention and innovation is not wanted by the system.
Creativity is for the gifted few: the rest of us are compelled to live in the environments constructed by the gifted few, listen to the gifted few's music, use the gifted few's inventions and art, and read the poems, fantasies and plays by the gifted few. This is what our education and culture condition us to believe, and this is a culturally induced and perpetuated lie.
You can post a letter from here to China or Chile, confident that it will arrive, as a result of freely arrived at agreements between different national post offices, without there being any central world postal authority at all.
But will it ever happen? Will this humane and essentially anarchistic vision of a workable future simply join all the other anarchical utopias of the past? Years ago George Orwell remarked: If one considers the probabilities one is driven to the conclusion that anarchism implies a low standard of living. It need not imply a hungry or uncomfortable world, but it rules out the kind of air-conditioned, chromium-plated, gadget-ridden existence which is now considered desirable and enlightened. The processes involved in making, say, an aeroplane are so complex as to be only possible in a planned, centralised society, with all the repressive apparatus that that implies. Unless there is some unpredictable change in human nature, liberty and efficiency must pull in opposite directions.
This step is imposed by the necessity for each healthy man and woman to spend a part of their lives in manual work in the free air; [...]
The development of the school and the university as broiler-houses for a place in the occupational pecking-order have given rise to the de-schooling movement and the idea of the anti-university.
But, as Alexander Herzen put it over a century ago: "A goal which is infinitely remote is not a goal at all, it is a deception.
Several different threads of thought are woven together in Sennett's study of "personal identity and city life." The first is a notion that he derives from the psychologist Erik Erikson that in adolescence men seek a purified identity to escape from uncertainty and pain and that true adulthood is found in the acceptance of diversity and disorder.
The poor of the Third World shanty-towns, acting anarchically, because no authority is powerful enough to prevent them from doing so, have three freedoms which the poor of the rich world have lost. As John Turner puts it, they have the freedom of community self-selection, the freedom to budget one's own resources and the freedom to shape one's own environment. In the rich world, every bit of land belongs to someone, who has the law and the agents of law enforcement firmly on his side. Building regulations and planning legislation are rigidly enforced, unless you happen to be a developer who can hire architects and negotiators shrewd enough to find a way round them or who can do a deal with the authorities.
This story reveals a great deal about the state of mind that is induced by free and independent action, and that which is induced by dependence and inertia: the difference between people who initiate things and act for themselves and people to whom things just happen.
Ultimately the social function of education is to perpetuate society: it is the socialising function. Society guarantees its future by rearing its children in its own image. In traditional societies the peasant rears his sons to cultivate the soil, the man of power rears his to wield power, and the priest instructs them all in the necessity of a priesthood.
The most devastating criticism we can make of the organised system is that its effects are profoundly anti-educational. In Britain, at five years old, most children cannot wait to get into school. At fifteen, most cannot wait to get out.
Finding some corner which the adult world has passed over, and making it their own. How can children in towns find and appropriate this kind of private world when, as Agnete Vestereg of the Copenhagen Jung Playground writes: Every bit of land is put to industrial or commercial use, where every patch of grass is protected or enclosed, where streams and hollows are filled in, cultivated and built on?
Do we really accept the paradox of a free and self-developing childhood followed by a lifetime of dreary and unfulfilling toil? Isn't there a place for the adventure playground or its equivalent in the adult world?
But is the Community Workshop idea nothing more than an aspect of the leisure industry, a compensation for the tedium of work? Daniel Bell, commenting on the "fantastic mushrooming of arts-and-crafts hobbies, of photography, home woodwork shops with power-driven tools, ceramics, high fidelity, electronics" notes that this has been achieved at a very high cost indeed - "the loss of satisfaction in work."
You cannot expect men to take a responsible attitude and to display initiative in daily life when their whole working experience deprives them of the chance of initiative and responsibility.
This is why they present every kind of scheme for 'workers' participation', 'joint management', 'profit sharing', 'industrial co-partnership,' everything in fact from suggestions boxes to works councils, to give the worker the feeling that he is more than a cog in the industrial machine while making sure that effective control of industry is kept out of the hands of the man on the factory floor.
These examples of on-the-job workers' control are important in evolving an anarchist approach to industrial organisation. They do not entail submission to paternalistic management techniques - in fact they demolish the myths of managerial expertise and indispensability.
Industry is not dominated by technical expertise, but by the sales manager, the accountant and the financial tycoon who never made anything in their lives except money.
Private cars? Why do people always want to go somewhere else? Is it because where they are is so intolerable? And what part did the automobile play in making the need to escape? What about day to day convenience? Is being stuck in a traffic jam convenient? What about the cost to the country? Bugger the 'cost to the country,' that's just the same crap as the national interest. Have you seen the faces of old people as they try to cross a busy main road? What about the inconvenience to pedestrians? What's the reason for buying a car? Is it just wanting to have it? Do we think the value of a car rubs off on us? But that's the wrong way round. Does having a car really save time? What's the average hours worked in manufacturing industry? Let's look it up in the library: 45.7 hours work a week. What's the amount of the family's spending money in a week that goes on cars? 10.3 per cent of all family income. Which means more like 20 per cent if you've got a car because half of us don't have one. What's 25 per cent of 45 hours? Christ, 9 hours!
The products which are available for purchase are not the products which we would prefer to have.
The paradoxes of contemporary capitalism mean that there are vast numbers of what American economist calls no-people: the army of the unemployed who are either unwanted by, or who consciously reject, the meaningless mechanised slavery of contemporary industrial production.
The problem that faces every individual and every society is quite different, it is how to provide people with the opportunity they yearn for: the chance to be useful.
We may thus conclude that there is an essential paradox in the fact that the state whose symbols are the policeman, the jailer and the soldier should have become the administrator and organiser of social welfare. The connection between welfare and warfare is in fact very close.
Is an anarchist society possible? We can only say, from the evidence of human history, that no kind of society is impossible. If you are powerful enough and ruthless enough you can impose almost any kind of social organisation on people— for a while. But you can only do so by methods which, however natural and appropriate they may be for any other kind of 'ism'— acting on the well-known principle that you can't make an omelette without breaking eggs— are repugnant to anarchists, unless they see themselves as yet another of those revolutionary elites 'leading the people' to the promised land. You can impose authority but you cannot impose freedom. An anarchist society is improbable, not because anarchy is unfeasible, or unfashionable, or unpopular, but because human society is not like that, because, as Malatesta put it in the passage quoted in the last chapter, "we are, in any case, ony one of the forces acting in society."