Reprinted from VOICE (Belfast), November 5, 1955.
Once upon a time there existed a small community composed of a hundred workers and one "reckoner." The workers, by sheer unaided effort produced one hundred units of necessities a year, by which they just managed to live after contributing a proportion of the units to the reckoner. The function of the reckoner was to distribute to each worker a token representing a claim to the worker's share of the necessities, and for this purpose sea-shells were used, the place where they were found being known only to the reckoner, who had little trouble in picking them up. All tokens had to be returned to the reckoner as the claims were made, and for his services the reckoner was given his share which enabled him to live more comfortably than any of the workers.
In the course of time, the workers began to find their toil very wearisome and necessities inadequate, and they commenced to devise simple means for lightening their labours and making more for their needs. One thought out one little idea and another improved on it so that, as time passed, numberless ideas and improvements were put into use which resulted in the making of a wonderful machine. By this time the community numbered one thousand workers, and their work, combined with what the machine made, produced two thousand units of necessities, which certainly looked good to the little community.
There were now two thousand units of necessities awaiting distribution among one thousand workers, and it appeared to be ordinary commonsense to distribute the extra thousand units equally among the whole community, since no one could possibly say whose particular forefathers had contributed most towards the ideas which had gone into the making of the machine.
In the meantime the title of "reckoner" had become changed to that of "bookster," because it had been found that mysterious symbols written in books and elaborately enscrolled bits of paper seemed to be more impressive to the minds of the workers than sea shells.
The workers now went to the bookster and asked him to let them have tokens for the extra thousand units in addition to the first one thousand, but, as they had only done the same amount of work as before and had always received tokens according to the amount of work done, the bookster refused to let them have more than one thousand, as the extra work had been done by their machine and not by themselves. There were therefore one thousand units to which no one could lay claim and which could not be distributed.
The bookster then had an inspiration and offered to lend the extra thousand tokens, provided the workers made another machine and so kept on working all day long, and provided also, they made contributions from the total units as before. "Toil" said the easy-living bookster, "is a Godlike thing."
The workers whose brains were always tired because of over-much toiling and who therefore were unable to think very clearly, agreed to this and also agreed that, until the bookster's tokens were all returned, both the machines should be regarded as his property. The bookster, who had had more practice in the use of his wits than the workers, knew quite well that as soon as one lot of tokens was returned another would be wanted, so that he would never have to give back the machines.
The second machine was a great improvement on the first, and this, together with the first machine and the labour of the workers, produced four thousands units. But, as the workers were still only given tokens according to work done, they could only claim one thousand units as before. Consequently, if all the necessities were to be claimed, there must be found some way to get still more tokens, and the only way was to get the bookster to lend more, which he could only do if more machine were made.
This led to another trouble, because the machines made it unnecessary for all the workers to work and, as the unrequired workers had no tokens, those who were working were forced to give a few of their own to those not working in order to keep them from dying. This meant that those without work grew very hungry and those still working had also to go short while, at the same time, three thousand units of necessities lay unclaimed.
In this way the workers had to keep on borrowing more and more tokens and making more and more machines just to keep themselves alive, while the bookster gradually became the owner of all the machines and so complete master of the workers who by now were called the people.
Nevertheless, some of the people were getting a little suspicious of the bookster and were always asking who gave the original reckoner the right to the shells and why should the present bookster be allowed the sole privilege of making tokens: these ought to be made by themselves because of their own labour and the invention of their own machines. i
This made the bookster a little nervous because he knew that the original reckoner had had no particular right to the shells and that he himself only held his present position because so many people knew nothing at all about the matter. In view of this, he thought it wise to take precautions and so he gave tokens freely to anybody who could deceive the people by a great deal of highsounding talk on the matter and, because these talkers had the funny idea that the only way to distribute the unclaimed necessities was to practise rigid economy and use fewer of them, they were called e-comic-ists.
By this time the bookster was master of the people more than ever but, because of the talk of the e-comic-ists, they still had some trust in him and asked his advice as to what should be done about the increasing surpluses. "Burn them," he said, "or if they are liquid like milk, throw them down the drains — it is really a very simple problem."
"But we are already doing this and there are still a lot left."
"In that case," said the bookster, "you must exchange them for the surpluses of other tribes."
"But," said one of the people who was a little wiser than the rest, "how can this be done since, as we have no tokens for our surpluses, we shall still have none for theirs taken in exchange."
"You can make spears," replied the bookster, "and while you are making them I will lend you more tokens." "But suppose the tribesmen don't want our surpluses?"
"Then," said the bookster, "they must be forced to take them and perhaps your spears will come in very handy."
At this, the wisest and most courageous mar among them strode out and faced the bookster and the people.
"Listen to me," he said. "I have somewhat to say on the matter, for I have given it some thought."
The people became attentive but the bookster looked supercilious.
"We must make our tokens," said the wisest man. "One thousand will be divided as at present because of our work, and three thousand will be divided equally among us because we and our forefathers have made the machines, and what is made by the machines is ours by right. Thus shall we have tokens for the four thousand units which will no longer lay a-rotting, and no man among us shall go hungry. We must re-claim our right to do this from the bookster who has usurped it from us."
The people acclaimed this with joy, but there was a sinister scowl on the bookster's face.
"You will not dare to do this thing", he snarled.
"Why should we not?" answered the wisest man.
"Because," said the bookster with a sardonic smile, "the tribesmen's bookster is a friend of mine and will see to it that they too have spears."
With great dignity the wisest man turned his back to the bookster and his face towards the people.
"We must dare this great thing," said he. "We and the tribesmen have no hatred for each other and we must not fight with them or they with us. For our common enemies are the booksters."
But alas! by that time the bookster was too strong for the people and before they had time to regain their heritage, the bookster's friend had aroused the tribesmen to attack and THERE WAS WAR!
The people, having to defend themselves, were forced to make great numbers of spears and thus borrow an immense number of tokens. Nevertheless, the quantity of tokens being so great and the debt to the bookster so enormous, the number of wise people increased so that they were convinced that after the war the bookster's power must be broken.
* * *
But the Bookster's power has not been broken, it has merely been transformed into a universal, godless and hypnotising creed which demands that, in spite of a vast potential wealth and freedom, the people — We — must be chained to a life of materialistic absorption; a creed which is the very antithesis of the ideal implicit in the words "I am come that they might have life and that they might have it more abundantly."
— Libera.