Professor Sauer laughed aloud. “Pardon me,” he said, “but you remind me of a story I used to hear when I was a boy, of a man who had slept in some cave or den for fifty years, or was it a century, and woke up to find a different world. Such a question belongs to the buried fossils of economic theory. Who can say what is a fair share? You might as well ask whether one musical composition is more just than another.”
“Well, perhaps you can tell me this,” I said. “Considering the superiority of your methods of production, I should have expected to find a much higher standard of individual wealth, or comfort, or leisure—you know what I mean—among not only the lower classes, but all classes. I cannot help wondering what becomes of all the surplus.”
“We have all enough for our needs,” he said, “and the requirements of the State are of far more importance than the gratification of the tastes of individuals.”
“May I put in a word?” said Professor Slimey the Theologian. “In the modern world, the productive powers of man have outstripped his other powers. It is one of the mysteries of the ways of Providence. The discipline of labour is necessary for the development of the soul, but the devil has sought to seduce mankind by teaching him how to produce more than is good for him, in the hope that he will become corrupted by luxury. In other countries that corruption has already taken place. The strenuous life is the only life consistent with moral health. Under the Divine guidance our ruling classes—I am old-fashioned enough to use that expression, for in the eyes of God there are no First or Second Classes—have preserved the sense of duty; they are a discipline unto themselves. God’s blessings have been multiplied unto them, and they have not forgotten the Divine injunctions. We cannot expect that the masses of mankind can discipline themselves, and for them the only safety lies in well-regulated and well-directed labour. There can be no greater curse for a people than idleness and luxury. Fortunately, we have been able to preserve them from the evil effects of superabundant wealth.”
“I have sometimes wondered,” I said, “whether the requirements of the State in regard to what is called National Defence were so great as to account for the surplus product.”
“Undoubtedly the demands of the army are very considerable,” replied Sauer. “You must remember that we have to protect ourselves against the whole world, so to speak.”
“But no estimate has been made, I suppose, of what is required for such things?” I said.
“That is a matter of high policy,” replied Sauer. “It would be impossible to estimate for it as a separate item in National expenditure. There again you betray your Lunilandish conceptions of National finance. No doubt they keep up this practice still in Luniland, but such a notion belongs to a bygone age. The State must be able to mobilise all its resources; that is the only logical policy, if you mean to conduct the affairs of the nation successfully, not only in time of war but in time of peace. Your asking how much National wealth is devoted to Defence is like asking a man how much of his dinner is devoted to sustaining his religion.”
“But is it not important to be able to form some approximate idea, from the economic point of view?” I said. “For, in one sense, it represents so much waste.”
“So much waste?” exclaimed Professor Slimey indignantly; “to what nobler purpose could the energies of the people be directed than to the defence of their Emperor, their God and their Fatherland?”