Who will dare deny that life in England—to take the nearest example—is happier now than it was even fifty years ago? Some people will sigh for the good old times of the Victorian reign, when money and employment were plentiful, when there was ample leisure for the rich, with pleasant ways of spending it, when masters were masters indeed and servants were loyal, respectful, and dutiful. But in recent times, apart from the tragedy of the Great War, there has been an immense improvement in the life of the average Englishman and his dependents. The general level of education has risen, infectious diseases have been successfully fought, schooling has become brighter and more effective, clothing has become more rational. There is more fresh air and less drudgery. The workman draws a larger share of the product of his effort, and often drives his motor car while his employer goes by train. The workman draws his bloated wage under the protection of his trade union, while the employer lies awake at night wondering how best to keep the works running and find new markets for old. That is nearly all to the good, since there are many more workmen than employers, and the general level of contentment is raised.
Even the aged, instead of being thrown on the scrap heap, are guarded from destitution by pensions honourably drawn from a wise government.
It will, I hope, be put to my credit that I have not carolled the blessings of the cinema theatre or even of wireless broadcasting. The optimist who emphasizes these is usually met with the reply that these do more harm than good, and spoil young people for ordinary life. Whatever may be said concerning the dull hotch-potch turned out “in bulk” by the American film industry, nobody can deny that an element of romance has been brought into the lives of countless poor people by Edison’s and Berliner’s great invention.
As regards wireless broadcasting, it is too early to speak of its permanent effects. It has come upon us like an avalanche. For the first time, it has enlisted youth in the highest electrical problems. It has paved the way for the general diffusion of scientific knowledge while ostensibly popularizing the art of music. In any case, it is a complete answer to Ben Akiba and his saying about there being nothing new.
Mr. J. B. S. Haldane[2] believes that the centre of scientific interest now lies in biology, and that physiology will eventually invade and destroy mathematical physics. It is quite possible that the advance of what physicists sometimes playfully call the “inexact” sciences may cast those of physics and chemistry entirely in the shade, but although biology has made some difference to human life in the last generation, its effects cannot remotely compare with those of physical and chemical discoveries. The mere increase of speed in transport, due to the internal-combustion engine, has caused a speeding-up of the whole nervous system and a brightening of the intelligence of all but an insignificant fraction of the population. When the choice lies between the Quick and the Dead, even the most sluggish temperament will put on a spurt, and this continued sprinting across the motor traffic has produced a more agile generation. If such a profound difference can be made in twenty years, what will be the effect of even 200 years of continually accelerated progress?
[2] Dædalus, pp. 10 and 16.
The continual acceleration of the rate of progress must not be lost sight of in forecasting the future. It happens to coincide with a similar increase in the consumption of accumulated fuels, like coal and oil, and might be expected to slow down when those supplies of preserved sunlight come to an end. But by that time other accumulations will no doubt have been discovered and utilized.
Unless the Russian blight extends over Europe and America, we may confidently look forward to a long era of steadily accelerated progress. What form that progress will take is notoriously difficult to forecast. The main difficulty arises from the fact that the most promising discoveries sometimes turn out to be impracticable, or at least of quite secondary importance. Nobody prophesied the great development of the motor car, nor of that gigantic child of the old Zoetrope or “Wheel of Life” which we call the Picture Theatre. A genius like H. G. Wells could indeed write a marvellously accurate forecast of flying achievements, but in one of his books he makes a great deal of the Brennan mono-rail, which, after a sensational beginning, failed to reach maturity, probably owing to the temporary failure of that much-maligned but quite essential fertilizer of inventions, capital. Other inventions, such as the speaking film, bear within themselves certain weaknesses which may prevent them from attaining great popularity.
But previous failures to peep into the future effectively shall not deter the author from another attempt to pierce the veil hiding our fate. He will proceed by “extrapolating” the curves representing progress made hitherto, but will always allow for unexpected new departures in what are already known to be possible directions.