“WORTHY OF HIS HIRE.”
And it was decreed that the lives of those who wrought should be spared.
As Leo Bergin, before he retired, himself took a deep interest in all industrial affairs, he reported Oseba in profusive detail as the labor situation of Zelania was discussed.
There had been an intermission and lunch, and the audience, feeling refreshed, showed deep interest in a problem, the solution of which had taxed the best energies of the ablest statesmen in many countries for many generations. As a text for his pleasing sermon, Oseba said:—
“To you, my children, to the Shadowas of Cavitorus, it will seem strange, but among the Christian Outeroos there is industrial confusion about everywhere, with little prospect of early harmony—for Zelania alone is a land without strikes, without class hatred, and, of those having parliaments, without a labor party in the legislature.”
I conclude from the notes:—
Zelania was settled by an excellent class of people, and though too much of the better lands, as before remarked, were at first allowed to fall into few hands, influenced by the isolation and distance from the scenes that created the old precedent, by the novelty of the environment, from the necessities of discovering new expedients to satisfy the new demands or conditions, and from the quickening influence of new competition in a new, free, and exhilarating climate, there was a rush of brains to the head in Zelania, and a new shuffle of the cards was called.
Where none were rich, and all had to hustle, the “grafter” was respected. A community of interests arose, and he who wrote and he who wrought marched shoulder to shoulder, choosing from among themselves the instruments or servants through which the public conscience should find expression in law.
In questions of colonial policy, none invoked the “shades of honored sires,” none appealed to the “experience of the ages,” none asked or cared what Britain or America was doing, but “how can we construct the most comfortable edifice from the material at hand?” was the problem they sought to solve.
If all those who have prayed, struggled, fought, and died for liberty, from Otanes, the Persian, down to the swarthy sons of Cuba or the Philippines, could behold this scene, they might well say—not in the words of Mr. Oseba—“Lord, now lettest Thou Thy servant depart in peace, for mine eyes have seen Thy salvation.”
In Zelania there were no class contests. There was no social revolution in the story, but the people “rose to the occasion,” they looked around inquiringly, yielded to the logic of the situation, and—were.
Boiling Fountains, Lake Rotomahana.
Here the people saw clearly the fundamental theory, or basic essentials of production. Here they saw Nature’s treasure-house filled with tempting rewards, and they soon realised that toil was the open sesame to which Nature responded promptly, and with a lavish hand.
They saw that “labor and land,” after a long divorce, must re-wed—for the children’s sake—and that “wealth,” instead of being a partial god that sprang from magic caves to aid the cunning in squeezing humanity, was really but the savings or net products of “yesterday’s” toil, and capital but that part of wealth devoted to improving the implements with which toil may more easily coin more wealth from the stores of material, offered by Nature free to her inquiring children. Who “corners” the raw material, insults dame Nature, and assassinates liberty.
There being some considerable unanimity of feeling on these questions in Zelania, it was deemed wise to arrange some equitable rules for the working of the various factors, cogs, wheels and pulleys of this complex machine. Of course, a few persons who felt strongly that they were entitled to complimentary passes to all the public entertainments objected; but these gentlemen were asked to stand by and “hold the ’phone” while the inquiry was being made.
Mr. Oseba said: “So near is the Government of Zelania to the doors of the people that the laws are really but the recorded conclusions of the community.”
The people had learned—I conclude from the notes—that in all countries and in all ages, a monopolisation of the land with legal privileges had resulted in insolent class distinctions, poverty, misery, and oppression, and they proposed to take up a collection, and erect a new lighting-plant. For—
Not for booty came the Briton, but for a home;
And he built a State, from foundation to dome.
In honor of his sire he “grew.” To the “old chimes”
He listened, but he hewed and carved, to fit the “times.”
As oracles, he inquired of “Justice.” “Glory”
To him was naught, “but works,” said he, “live in story.”
Mr. Oseba reminded his audience of the rules regulating land tenure and “settlement,” which held in view the broadening of the base of the social pyramid, and he said the labor laws were but extending the same principles to other members of the productive or industrial machines.
“The labor laws of Zelania,” says he, “are unique; but they are only ‘unique’ in ignoring the ‘experience of darker ages,’ in their purpose to equitably distribute the burdens and profits of industry, and in the desire of the framers to secure permanent industrial peace and intelligent social co-operation.
“The labor laws of Zelania may be said to be but rules provided for the better understanding between, and the better security of the employer and employee, as joint promoters of industrial enterprise, and nowhere is the holder of wealth given an undue advantage over the creator of wealth.
“The labor legislation of Zelania comprises about thirty-five distinct Acts, and in tone they are usually almost more advisory than mandatory. There are no general laws regulating the hours of labor, or providing a minimum wage, but in the interest of open-handed justice, certain courts may exercise considerable power when called upon to settle questions of this character.[D] The labor legislation began in Zelania as early as 1865, in ‘The Master and Apprentice Act,’ and has at least kept pace with the rational demands of the community ever since.
“The labor laws of Zelania, like her industries, have grown gradually with the country’s requirements, as suggested by the industrial unfoldment of the country. As it is an industrial and commercial community, the laws are designed to cover every phase of business activity, to be specific in their directions, simple in their application, and speedy and inexpensive in their execution.”
Uttering a truth, but possibly misquoting, Mr. Oseba remarked:—
“As a despairing statesman once said, ‘Rome realises no danger, nay, she heeds no warning, until the enemy is thundering at her gates, when she must act without deliberation,’ so, in like manner, the industrial Acts of other countries are usually formulated and passed to meet pressing emergencies, while the sagacity of Zelania prepares, not for emergencies, but that emergencies may not arise.
“While labor is the chief factor in the production of all wealth, from a time to which the ‘memory’ of man runneth not to the contrary, the select few, who cunningly possessed themselves of the wealth, have treated with scant courtesy those who created it.
“In Zelania, this ‘time-honored custom’ has been changed, for it has been ordained that he who coins his sweat into the things that administer to human wants, shall not be forgotten by those who coin their cunning into magnets for drawing the price of those things to their commodious pockets.
“In Zelania, my children, people who toil, who build houses, make corkscrews, and grow asparagus, are regarded as considerably human, even outside of Sunday-school and prayer meeting.
“Here the power of one to toil and to produce is considered his capital. His family, in whom the community has an interest, is to be considered and supported from this source, and, if in the employ of another, such a person meets with—or is overtaken by—an accident—his capital impaired—he must be ‘compensated.’[E] This, for a time, seemed a hardship on employers—all changes being hardships—but experience has proven otherwise, for the practice not only produced a nobler ‘fellow-feeling,’ but mutual interest between the employer and the employed.
“Every change necessitates other changes, and every new light exposes some defects that call for improvement.
“In this measure there was a glimpse of justice, but to obviate apparent hardships, the State undertook to insure the laborer, and then it was seen that private companies could find a lot of—financially—healthy exercise in the same line, and thus the industrial machine became more symmetrical.[F]
“To the casual observer, or to him who regards the torch-bearer as an innovator luring away his fetish, and to the wise-looking owl that sits on the cemetery gate hooting at the passing train of progress, these novel experiments seem mischievous and revolutionary; but in the early future, the long-eared politicians of many lands will have to face the inquiry, ‘What has made Zelania the industrial paradise of the world? Give us a smile from her canteen.’
“She is changing the ideal, she is blessing the brick and the mortar of which the Temple of State is built.
“If the State is made for woman and for man,
You should make the man and woman—best you can.
“The fact that for a dozen years, the industrial machine of Zelania has worked smoothly, and that, while in other lands there has been much confusion, she has enjoyed an era of unparalleled progress and prosperity, should be some answer to the fears of those who, because ‘of old’ they made much gains in furnishing Diana with her stage outfit, are now feeling weary.
“However, should these laws fail to satisfy the aspirations of an educated people,” Mr. Oseba argued, “the agents of the ultimate authority would be instructed to adjust them to the popular needs of society, and the new patents would be issued.
“As a fact, of all people the Zelanians alone receive as much from, as they contribute to, their Government.
“I am not sure my children, not very sure, that in all cases these liberal laws have quickened the employee’s stroke. I am not sure that all employees are endowed with sufficient grey matter to appreciate the fact that every security or privilege conferred by law imposes reciprocal obligations. To emancipate a man, should ennoble him.
“A free man should scorn to soil his palm with an unearned penny. The law that raised the eyes of labor did not intend to direct them to the face of the town clock, and the law that forbade an employer demanding twenty shillings worth of work for fourteen shillings in truck goods, never meant that labor should take from its employer a gold sovereign for fourteen shillings’ worth of work.
“Justice and security should elevate the soul, sharpen the sense of right, awaken the energies and quicken the pace of all who fall under these benign influences.
“I am not sure, not very sure, that all the people of Zelania are worthy participators in these noble benefactions; I am only explaining the facts of the situation, the generous sentiment that so largely prevails among the people, and the purposes and intentions of the makers of the law.
“Of course Zelanian statesmen may need to remind the people, that increased effort will be demanded for every opportunity given, and that for personal success, energy, self reliance and hustle must be wholly relied upon, or there may be some misunderstanding.”
Whoever leans heavily upon the Government—not the language of the chaste Oseba—usually gets tired easy, so while it is well to furnish every passenger with a life preserver, the fellow who is too lazy to kick deserves to die at sea, to save funeral expenses.
“But, my children,” says Mr. Oseba, with rather a human smile, “as it is much less wearisome to put on avoirdupois than to put on grey matter, the social millennium has not yet become firmly seated, even in Zelania.”
But, Mr. Oseba, they are steaming up and they will get there all the same, for now that the light has been turned on, the audience will encourage the players to grander performances.
In all changes in life there are sorrows. We come into, and go out of life with pain. In every advance some are left behind, by every improvement some hand is left idle, until it is trained to a new duty. Every economic advance violates some custom under which hoary wrongs found an honored refuge.
But I conclude, from many pages, that Zelania’s labor laws are still imperfect, as the leaders themselves recognise, by further improving them. But she is safe in her situation, and these eternal principles of justice are destined to exercise a wide influence throughout the world, for improved light always gives the whole plant a more symmetrical growth.
To the undeviating progress of the industrial situation of Zelania, the world is indebted, first, of course, to her unparalleled natural conditions, second to the intelligence of her people, then to her progressive statesmen, and especially to R. J. Seddon and the able men who have constituted his political family. These, without tradition, history or precedent, have raised the industrial plane of the country to a condition approaching the social ideal—as per mandate.
Like Bolivar and Lincoln and many other of humanity’s torch bearers, Mr. Seddon, by the force of his own genius, arose from the industrial walks of life. His was not a meteor flight bursting resplendently upon a startled world; but faithfully biding his time, he came prepared, and evidently he came to stay—for the time of his leave-taking has not yet been announced.
Kiwi. / Milford Sound.
“Mr. Seddon was born a true Briton. He was toughened by colonial experience, his hands were calloused with honest toil, his muscles were hardened with heroic struggles, his intellect was developed by a broad and intelligent observation of interesting events; and he belonged to, arose from, and came forward to serve the people.
“He knew but one rank, that of the free citizen; but one guide, the people’s voice; but one master, that of duty—as he understood the command.
“Well, an upper seat became vacant, and, having a ripe experience in parliamentary affairs, appreciative authority, with inviting tones, remarked, ‘Richard, come up higher,’ and he joined a strong Cabinet. He did his duty as he felt it, and was a part of Zelania’s most progressive laws. He ripened with the ever-changing seasons.
“Events hastened; the public appetite was whetted, and said, ‘More!’ Mr. Ballance, a beloved Premier, foolishly died, a still higher seat was vacant, and again appreciative authority said, ‘Richard, come up higher.’ He became Premier—the most responsible position in any country ruled under the British parliamentary system—in 1893, and for ten years, with the strength of a Hercules, the courage of an Ajax, and the industry of an Ixion, he has courageously worked in extending, amending, pruning and consolidating the industrial rules of Zelania, until the world that first looked on with amusement, and then with inquiring interest, now beholds with admiration the successful workings of an industrial theory that gives hope to humanity.
“He was a product of the times. The opportunities came, and he harmonised the conditions with the interests and the aspirations of his countrymen, and, without the use of an elevator, he has reached the dome of the temple.
“The labor laws, like the land laws, are based upon the enlightened selfishness of the people in their organised capacity, the idea being, not that everyone may, but that everyone must, earn his or her own living—must be a producer and not a pauper, a tax-payer and not a vagrant. This is democracy.
“The people are not kept, but they are allowed opportunities to keep themselves; they are not aided as a charity, but they are enabled, as a right, to earn and to have, and to contribute to the general well-being of the country.
“In Zelania the soil is a basis of wealth; capital and labor are the active factors, and society, for the good of each and all, proposes that these factors shall peacefully pursue the joint enterprise of production, according to the dictates of justice and humanity.
“It is selfish, of course. Capital must be secure, and industry must necessarily move her tireless wheels. Then society, as a whole, having an interest in each of its members, and a stake in the proceeds, must be the arbiter in all industrial disputes, and the interested parties, being loyal members of the social compact, must yield obedience to the public will.”
Well, that is worth embalming!
They numbered the people. If high or low,
Was not worth asking; enough to know
That each had wants; and, that all might live,
Those receiving must willingly give.
Then strove they in love, and not in hate,
To build for aye this matchless State;
For they knew that a temple could not endure
That enriched the baron, and crushed the poor.
“Society,” continued the sage, “made up of the industrial cells, requires the security of every shilling, the service of every member, and the peaceful co-operation of all the factors in every industrial enterprise, and as it has not yet been determined how much of our imagined ‘natural rights’ we may be called upon to yield for the general good, the passionless decision of the public will, for the time being at least, must be the only guide.
“Under the benign ægis of a rule, bearing the lengthened legend, ‘The Industrial Conciliation and Arbitration Act,’ there serenely reposes the most perfect industrial security known in this discontented world. The Labour Laws of Zelania may be ‘experimental,’ but they sprang from the soul of the public conscience, they were moulded by a desire to secure impartial justice, and for many years they have given a degree of industrial peace, stability, and prosperity, that has won the favour of the general citizenship, and is now exciting the surprise and winning the admiration of the world.
“Then, to cap the climax, my children,” said Mr. Oseba, “of all the measures ever calculated to confirm the claims of the Master as to the ‘brotherhood’ of man, it has been ordained in Zelania that, under liberal provisions, all persons above the full age of sixty-five years, shall be entitled to a life pension.”
In harmony with other liberal legislation, support for these measures was asked, Oseba informs his people, not as a matter of charity, but of justice, for it seems to have been held that as members of an industrial community, all worthy persons were supposed to have entitled themselves to a living, and that those who found themselves indigent at that age, had either met with misfortune, or had failed to receive a just equivalent for his or her contribution to the public wealth. There, it seems to be recognised that the world owes, to all men, a living, and that these pensions are advances made to those who have failed to “collect” what was properly due to them. Rather new.[G]
A public sentiment that, above the taint of charity, coins its “respect for worthy old age” into sovereigns, that may be “demanded as a right,” by the deserving, stands as far above the pious cant of other countries—as philosophy stands above superstition.
Indolence, poverty, sorrow and want are common to human society, and benevolence and charity have been lauded as saving virtues for many ages; but here, where new ideas seem to generate spontaneously, there has arisen a novel notion—that so closely is the world akin, that the very fact of a person having taken the pains to be born, to behave pretty well, to float to Zelania at the proper time and to exist for sixty-five years, justly entitles him or her to £18 worth of annual “respect.”
“This is novel indeed,” says Mr. Oseba, “and this notion, in its conceptions of human relationship, social duty and moral responsibility, is nobler than all the sermons—save one—ever preached on this little globe.
“R. J. Seddon is no saint; I am told, my children, he gets angry, he storms, and he may use cuss words, but no poet, priest or philanthropist ever uttered nobler thoughts than he, in his championship of this progressive measure. Only the dreamer can realise the far-reaching moral grandeur, not of the measure itself, but of the lofty sentiment upon which it is based—and the Premier claimed to speak ‘for the people.’
“Considering the general backwardness of the Outeroos in breaking old traditions and especially in the direction of a greater recognition of human brotherhood, or the rights of the individual as a unit of society, the Zelanians have another rule, even more surprising, as you will see, for it is not only the offspring of a sentiment or idea, as novel in its nobility of conception as that upon which grew the old age pension, but it is so radical a departure from old British customs, as to startle a student with its audacious demands.
“In the older lands the desire, as well as the custom, is to erect commanding fortunes and to perpetuate wealthy and powerful families—though many of the kindred struggle through miserable lives in poverty; but in Zelania, should a person who contemplates permanent ‘retirement,’ endeavor by will or ‘last testament,’ to leave all his belongings to the ‘white headed boy,’ or otherwise fail to provide, according to his means, for the ‘proper maintenance and support’ of any of his dependents, the Courts ‘may go back of the returns,’ inquire into the matter, practically annul ‘said will,’ and make such provisions as ‘shall seem fit,’ according to the demands of open-handed justice.
“Zelania recognises every person as an integral part of the social group, with reciprocal rights and duties. An individual may pray with and prey upon the community and acquire ‘much riches,’ and, as the legal custodian of this ‘lucre,’ he has considerable latitude; but, as a fact, he is only a trustee, and when he leaves his money in this world—lest it should melt—he is not allowed to deprive any of his dependents who may remain for a time as members of the community, of all ‘consolation’ for his departure.[H]
“Contrary to the general notions of outside barbarians, the advanced legislation in Zelania is not the result of an erratic temperament, but of advanced thought, of a nobler conception of human duty, and a higher ideal of social progress.
“Zelania as a social entity is not a commanding empire. She points to no glorious traditions, to no rivers of blood, to no ancient splendors with ruined aqueducts, fallen columns or ivy-grown temples; no chained captives and moss-grown universities, where hoots the hooded owl; but representing a new phase of intellectual aspiration, her sturdy statesmen have planted the banner of social progress beyond the dreams of other lands, and they have made her the most interesting, the most hopeful, and, socially, the most conspicuous spot on the broad surface of Oliffa.”
Eloquent in his recital, Mr. Oseba closed this topic:—
“The time is hurriedly coming, my children, when the statues of Zelanian statesmen who have pushed to their full realisation the noble principles, towards which humanity has been vainly struggling for countless ages, will adorn the most popular niches, galleries, and squares of the world’s most civilised centres.”