War—What For?

by George R. Kirkpatrick

He lost heart.

He humbly took his place—as a chattel-slave class, as a serf-slave class, as a wage-slave class.

He has produced wealth.

He has reproduced slaves.

The wings of his aspiration have been clipped. He can hope no higher than a job—for himself. He hopes no higher than a job—for his children.

The top of the plans of his life is—toil.

And therefore even now as a wage-slave he teaches his own children to “respect their betters”—their employer masters.

He forgets.

He is so cringingly grateful for a job that he forgets he should have not only the right to breathe the air, the right to look at the sun, the right to read in the library, the right to walk on the highway, and the right to sit in the park,—but also the right to work, the right to work unrobbed, the right to work under dignifying conditions, and thus maintain himself on this earth at the upmost levels of life, enjoying the full result of his applied labor power,—and without whining for permission to do so.

He forgets.