By Canon Barnett.
January, 1910.
[1] From “The Manchester Weekly Times”. By permission of the Editor.
The world is out of joint. Reformers have in every age tried to put it right. But still Society jerks and jolts as it journeys over the road of life. The rich fear the poor, the poor suspect the rich, there is strife and misunderstanding; children flicker out a few days’ life in sunless courts, and honoured old age is hidden in workhouses; people starve while food is wasted in luxurious living, and the cry always goes up, “Who will show us any good?”
The response to that cry is the appearance of the Social Reformer. Philanthropists have brought forward scheme after scheme to relieve poverty, and politicians have passed laws to remove abuses. Their efforts have been magnificent and the immediate results not to be gainsaid, but in counting the gains the debit side must not be forgotten. Philanthropists weaken as well as strengthen society; law hinders as well as helps. When a body of people assume good doing as a special profession, there will always be a tendency among some of their neighbours to go on more unconcerned about evil, and among others to offer themselves as subjects for this good doing. The world may be better for its philanthropists, but when after such devotion it remains so terribly out of joint the question arises whether good is best done by a class set apart as Social Reformers.
There is an often-quoted saying of a monk in the twelfth century: “The age of the Son is passing, the age of the Spirit is coming”. He saw that the need of the world would not always be for a leader or for a class of leaders, but rather for a widely diffused spirit.
The present moment is remarkable for the number of societies, leagues, and institutions which are being started. There never were so many leaders offering themselves to do good, so many schemes demanding support. The Charities Register reveals agencies which are ready to deal with almost any conceivable ill, and it would seem that anyone desiring to help a neighbour might do so by pressing the button of one of these agencies. The agencies for each service are, indeed, so many, that other societies are formed now for their organization, and the would-be good-doer is thus relieved even from inquiring as to that which is the best fitted for his purpose.
The hope of the monk is deferred, and it seems as if it were the leaders and not the spirit of the people which is to secure social reform. The question therefore presses itself whether the best social reformers are the philanthropists. Specialists always make a show of activity, but such a show is often the cover of widely spread indolence. Specialists in religion—the ecclesiastics—were never more active than when during the fifteenth century they built churches and restored the cathedrals, but underneath this activity was the popular indifference which almost immediately woke to take vengeance on such leaders. Specialists in social reform to-day—the philanthropists—raise great schemes, but many of their supporters are at heart indifferent. It really saves them trouble to create societies and to make laws. It is easier to subscribe money—even to sit on a committee—than to help one’s own neighbour. It is easier to promote Socialism than to be a Socialist. Activity in social reform movements may be covering popular indifference, and there is already a sign of the vengeance which awakened indifference may take in the cry dimly heard, “Curse your charity”.
Better, it may be agreed, than great schemes—voluntary or legal—is the individual service of men and women who, putting heart and mind into their efforts, and co-operating together, take as their motto “One by One”; but again the same question presses itself in another form: Should the individual who aspires to serve his generation separate himself from the ordinary avocations of Society, and become a visitor or teacher? Should the business man divide his social reforming self from his business self, and keep, as he would say, his charity and his business apart?
The world is rich in examples of devoted men and women who have given up pleasure and profit to serve others’ needs. The modern Press gives every day news of both the benefactions and the good deeds of business men who, as business men, think first, not of the kingdom of heaven, but of business profits. This specialization of effort—as the specialization of a class—has its good results; but is it the best, the only way of social reform? Is it not likely to narrow the heart of the good-doer and make him overkeen about his own plan? Will not the charity of a stranger, although it be designed in love and be carried out with thought, almost always irritate? Is it not the conception of society, which assumes one class dependent on the benevolence of another class, mediæval rather than modern? Can limbs which are out of joint be made to work smoothly by any application of oil and not by radical resetting? Is it reasonable that business men should look to cure with their gifts the injuries they have inflicted in their business, that they should build hospitals and give pensions out of profits drawn from the rents of houses unfit for human habitation, and gained from wages on which no worker could both live and look forward to a peaceful old age? Is it possible for a human being to divide his nature so as to be on the one side charitable and on the other side cruel?