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THE GENERAL STRIKE
Of course Ernest was elected to Congress in the great socialist landslide
that took place in the fall of 1912. One great factor that helped to swell
the socialist vote was the destruction of Hearst.* This the Plutocracy
found an easy task. It cost Hearst eighteen million dollars a year to run
his various papers, and this sum, and more, he got back from the middle
class in payment for advertising. The source of his financial strength lay
wholly in the middle class. The trusts did not advertise.** To destroy
Hearst, all that was necessary was to take away from him his advertising.
* William Randolph Hearst—a young California millionaire
who became the most powerful newspaper owner in the country.
His newspapers were published in all the large cities, and
they appealed to the perishing middle class and to the
proletariat. So large was his following that he managed to
take possession of the empty shell of the old Democratic
Party. He occupied an anomalous position, preaching an
emasculated socialism combined with a nondescript sort of
petty bourgeois capitalism. It was oil and water, and there
was no hope for him, though for a short period he was a
source of serious apprehension to the Plutocrats.
** The cost of advertising was amazing in those helter-
skelter times. Only the small capitalists competed, and
therefore they did the advertising. There being no
competition where there was a trust, there was no need for
the trusts to advertise.
The whole middle class had not yet been exterminated. The sturdy skeleton
of it remained; but it was without power. The small manufacturers and
small business men who still survived were at the complete mercy of the
Plutocracy. They had no economic nor political souls of their own. When
the fiat of the Plutocracy went forth, they withdrew their advertisements
from the Hearst papers.
Hearst made a gallant fight. He brought his papers out at a loss of a
million and a half each month. He continued to publish the advertisements
for which he no longer received pay. Again the fiat of the Plutocracy went
forth, and the small business men and manufacturers swamped him with a
flood of notices that he must discontinue running their old
advertisements. Hearst persisted. Injunctions were served on him. Still he
persisted. He received six months' imprisonment for contempt of court in
disobeying the injunctions, while he was bankrupted by countless damage
suits. He had no chance. The Plutocracy had passed sentence on him. The
courts were in the hands of the Plutocracy to carry the sentence out. And
with Hearst crashed also to destruction the Democratic Party that he had
so recently captured.
With the destruction of Hearst and the Democratic Party, there were only
two paths for his following to take. One was into the Socialist Party; the
other was into the Republican Party. Then it was that we socialists reaped
the fruit of Hearst's pseudo-socialistic preaching; for the great Majority
of his followers came over to us.
The expropriation of the farmers that took place at this time would also
have swelled our vote had it not been for the brief and futile rise of the
Grange Party. Ernest and the socialist leaders fought fiercely to capture
the farmers; but the destruction of the socialist press and publishing
houses constituted too great a handicap, while the mouth-to-mouth
propaganda had not yet been perfected. So it was that politicians like Mr.
Calvin, who were themselves farmers long since expropriated, captured the
farmers and threw their political strength away in a vain campaign.
"The poor farmers," Ernest once laughed savagely; "the trusts have them
both coming and going."
And that was really the situation. The seven great trusts, working
together, had pooled their enormous surpluses and made a farm trust. The
railroads, controlling rates, and the bankers and stock exchange
gamesters, controlling prices, had long since bled the farmers into
indebtedness. The bankers, and all the trusts for that matter, had
likewise long since loaned colossal amounts of money to the farmers. The
farmers were in the net. All that remained to be done was the drawing in
of the net. This the farm trust proceeded to do.
The hard times of 1912 had already caused a frightful slump in the farm
markets. Prices were now deliberately pressed down to bankruptcy, while
the railroads, with extortionate rates, broke the back of the
farmer-camel. Thus the farmers were compelled to borrow more and more,
while they were prevented from paying back old loans. Then ensued the
great foreclosing of mortgages and enforced collection of notes. The
farmers simply surrendered the land to the farm trust. There was nothing
else for them to do. And having surrendered the land, the farmers next
went to work for the farm trust, becoming managers, superintendents,
foremen, and common laborers. They worked for wages. They became villeins,
in short—serfs bound to the soil by a living wage. They could not
leave their masters, for their masters composed the Plutocracy. They could
not go to the cities, for there, also, the Plutocracy was in control. They
had but one alternative,—to leave the soil and become vagrants, in
brief, to starve. And even there they were frustrated, for stringent
vagrancy laws were passed and rigidly enforced.
Of course, here and there, farmers, and even whole communities of farmers,
escaped expropriation by virtue of exceptional conditions. But they were
merely strays and did not count, and they were gathered in anyway during
the following year.*
* The destruction of the Roman yeomanry proceeded far less
rapidly than the destruction of the American farmers and
small capitalists. There was momentum in the twentieth
century, while there was practically none in ancient Rome.
Numbers of the farmers, impelled by an insane lust for the
soil, and willing to show what beasts they could become,
tried to escape expropriation by withdrawing from any and
all market-dealing. They sold nothing. They bought
nothing. Among themselves a primitive barter began to
spring up. Their privation and hardships were terrible, but
they persisted. It became quite a movement, in fact. The
manner in which they were beaten was unique and logical and
simple. The Plutocracy, by virtue of its possession of the
government, raised their taxes. It was the weak joint in
their armor. Neither buying nor selling, they had no money,
and in the end their land was sold to pay the taxes.
Thus it was that in the fall of 1912 the socialist leaders, with the
exception of Ernest, decided that the end of capitalism had come. What of
the hard times and the consequent vast army of the unemployed; what of the
destruction of the farmers and the middle class; and what of the decisive
defeat administered all along the line to the labor unions; the socialists
were really justified in believing that the end of capitalism had come and
in themselves throwing down the gauntlet to the Plutocracy.
Alas, how we underestimated the strength of the enemy! Everywhere the
socialists proclaimed their coming victory at the ballot-box, while, in
unmistakable terms, they stated the situation. The Plutocracy accepted the
challenge. It was the Plutocracy, weighing and balancing, that defeated us
by dividing our strength. It was the Plutocracy, through its secret
agents, that raised the cry that socialism was sacrilegious and atheistic;
it was the Plutocracy that whipped the churches, and especially the
Catholic Church, into line, and robbed us of a portion of the labor vote.
And it was the Plutocracy, through its secret agents of course, that
encouraged the Grange Party and even spread it to the cities into the
ranks of the dying middle class.
Nevertheless the socialist landslide occurred. But, instead of a sweeping
victory with chief executive officers and majorities in all legislative
bodies, we found ourselves in the minority. It is true, we elected fifty
Congressmen; but when they took their seats in the spring of 1913, they
found themselves without power of any sort. Yet they were more fortunate
than the Grangers, who captured a dozen state governments, and who, in the
spring, were not permitted to take possession of the captured offices. The
incumbents refused to retire, and the courts were in the hands of the
Oligarchy. But this is too far in advance of events. I have yet to tell of
the stirring times of the winter of 1912.
The hard times at home had caused an immense decrease in consumption.
Labor, out of work, had no wages with which to buy. The result was that
the Plutocracy found a greater surplus than ever on its hands. This
surplus it was compelled to dispose of abroad, and, what of its colossal
plans, it needed money. Because of its strenuous efforts to dispose of the
surplus in the world market, the Plutocracy clashed with Germany. Economic
clashes were usually succeeded by wars, and this particular clash was no
exception. The great German war-lord prepared, and so did the United
The war-cloud hovered dark and ominous. The stage was set for a
world-catastrophe, for in all the world were hard times, labor troubles,
perishing middle classes, armies of unemployed, clashes of economic
interests in the world-market, and mutterings and rumblings of the
* For a long time these mutterings and rumblings had been
heard. As far back as 1906 A.D., Lord Avebury, an
Englishman, uttered the following in the House of Lords:
"The unrest in Europe, the spread of socialism, and the
ominous rise of Anarchism, are warnings to the governments
and the ruling classes that the condition of the working
classes in Europe is becoming intolerable, and that if a
revolution is to be avoided some steps must be taken to
increase wages, reduce the hours of labor, and lower the
prices of the necessaries of life." The Wall Street
Journal, a stock gamesters' publication, in commenting upon
Lord Avebury's speech, said: "These words were spoken by an
aristocrat and a member of the most conservative body in all
Europe. That gives them all the more significance. They
contain more valuable political economy than is to be found
in most of the books. They sound a note of warning. Take
heed, gentlemen of the war and navy departments!"
At the same time, Sydney Brooks, writing in America, in
Harper's Weekly, said: "You will not hear the socialists
mentioned in Washington. Why should you? The politicians
are always the last people in this country to see what is
going on under their noses. They will jeer at me when I
prophesy, and prophesy with the utmost confidence, that at
the next presidential election the socialists will poll over
a million votes."
The Oligarchy wanted the war with Germany. And it wanted the war for a
dozen reasons. In the juggling of events such a war would cause, in the
reshuffling of the international cards and the making of new treaties and
alliances, the Oligarchy had much to gain. And, furthermore, the war would
consume many national surpluses, reduce the armies of unemployed that
menaced all countries, and give the Oligarchy a breathing space in which
to perfect its plans and carry them out. Such a war would virtually put
the Oligarchy in possession of the world-market. Also, such a war would
create a large standing army that need never be disbanded, while in the
minds of the people would be substituted the issue, "America versus
Germany," in place of "Socialism versus Oligarchy."
And truly the war would have done all these things had it not been for the
socialists. A secret meeting of the Western leaders was held in our four
tiny rooms in Pell Street. Here was first considered the stand the
socialists were to take. It was not the first time we had put our foot
down upon war,* but it was the first time we had done so in the United
States. After our secret meeting we got in touch with the national
organization, and soon our code cables were passing back and forth across
the Atlantic between us and the International Bureau.
* It was at the very beginning of the twentieth century
A.D., that the international organization of the socialists
finally formulated their long-maturing policy on war.
Epitomized their doctrine was: "Why should the workingmen of
one country fight with the workingmen of another country for
the benefit of their capitalist masters?"
On May 21, 1905 A.D., when war threatened between Austria
and Italy, the socialists of Italy, Austria, and Hungary
held a conference at Trieste, and threatened a general
strike of the workingmen of both countries in case war was
declared. This was repeated the following year, when the
"Morocco Affair" threatened to involve France, Germany, and
The German socialists were ready to act with us. There were over five
million of them, many of them in the standing army, and, in addition, they
were on friendly terms with the labor unions. In both countries the
socialists came out in bold declaration against the war and threatened the
general strike. And in the meantime they made preparation for the general
strike. Furthermore, the revolutionary parties in all countries gave
public utterance to the socialist principle of international peace that
must be preserved at all hazards, even to the extent of revolt and
revolution at home.
The general strike was the one great victory we American socialists won.
On the 4th of December the American minister was withdrawn from the German
capital. That night a German fleet made a dash on Honolulu, sinking three
American cruisers and a revenue cutter, and bombarding the city. Next day
both Germany and the United States declared war, and within an hour the
socialists called the general strike in both countries.
For the first time the German war-lord faced the men of his empire who
made his empire go. Without them he could not run his empire. The novelty
of the situation lay in that their revolt was passive. They did not fight.
They did nothing. And by doing nothing they tied their war-lord's hands.
He would have asked for nothing better than an opportunity to loose his
war-dogs on his rebellious proletariat. But this was denied him. He could
not loose his war-dogs. Neither could he mobilize his army to go forth to
war, nor could he punish his recalcitrant subjects. Not a wheel moved in
his empire. Not a train ran, not a telegraphic message went over the
wires, for the telegraphers and railroad men had ceased work along with
the rest of the population.
And as it was in Germany, so it was in the United States. At last
organized labor had learned its lesson. Beaten decisively on its own
chosen field, it had abandoned that field and come over to the political
field of the socialists; for the general strike was a political strike.
Besides, organized labor had been so badly beaten that it did not care. It
joined in the general strike out of sheer desperation. The workers threw
down their tools and left their tasks by the millions. Especially notable
were the machinists. Their heads were bloody, their organization had
apparently been destroyed, yet out they came, along with their allies in
the metal-working trades.
Even the common laborers and all unorganized labor ceased work. The strike
had tied everything up so that nobody could work. Besides, the women
proved to be the strongest promoters of the strike. They set their faces
against the war. They did not want their men to go forth to die. Then,
also, the idea of the general strike caught the mood of the people. It
struck their sense of humor. The idea was infectious. The children struck
in all the schools, and such teachers as came, went home again from
deserted class rooms. The general strike took the form of a great national
picnic. And the idea of the solidarity of labor, so evidenced, appealed to
the imagination of all. And, finally, there was no danger to be incurred
by the colossal frolic. When everybody was guilty, how was anybody to be
The United States was paralyzed. No one knew what was happening. There
were no newspapers, no letters, no despatches. Every community was as
completely isolated as though ten thousand miles of primeval wilderness
stretched between it and the rest of the world. For that matter, the world
had ceased to exist. And for a week this state of affairs was maintained.
In San Francisco we did not know what was happening even across the bay in
Oakland or Berkeley. The effect on one's sensibilities was weird,
depressing. It seemed as though some great cosmic thing lay dead. The
pulse of the land had ceased to beat. Of a truth the nation had died.
There were no wagons rumbling on the streets, no factory whistles, no hum
of electricity in the air, no passing of street cars, no cries of
news-boys—nothing but persons who at rare intervals went by like
furtive ghosts, themselves oppressed and made unreal by the silence.
And during that week of silence the Oligarchy was taught its lesson. And
well it learned the lesson. The general strike was a warning. It should
never occur again. The Oligarchy would see to that.
At the end of the week, as had been prearranged, the telegraphers of
Germany and the United States returned to their posts. Through them the
socialist leaders of both countries presented their ultimatum to the
rulers. The war should be called off, or the general strike would
continue. It did not take long to come to an understanding. The war was
declared off, and the populations of both countries returned to their
It was this renewal of peace that brought about the alliance between
Germany and the United States. In reality, this was an alliance between
the Emperor and the Oligarchy, for the purpose of meeting their common
foe, the revolutionary proletariat of both countries. And it was this
alliance that the Oligarchy afterward so treacherously broke when the
German socialists rose and drove the war-lord from his throne. It was the
very thing the Oligarchy had played for—the destruction of its great
rival in the world-market. With the German Emperor out of the way, Germany
would have no surplus to sell abroad. By the very nature of the socialist
state, the German population would consume all that it produced. Of
course, it would trade abroad certain things it produced for things it did
not produce; but this would be quite different from an unconsumable
"I'll wager the Oligarchy finds justification," Ernest said, when its
treachery to the German Emperor became known. "As usual, the Oligarchy
will believe it has done right."
And sure enough. The Oligarchy's public defence for the act was that it
had done it for the sake of the American people whose interests it was
looking out for. It had flung its hated rival out of the world-market and
enabled us to dispose of our surplus in that market.
"And the howling folly of it is that we are so helpless that such idiots
really are managing our interests," was Ernest's comment. "They have
enabled us to sell more abroad, which means that we'll be compelled to
consume less at home."