It is the same with every other institution. There is a big communal
restaurant in which each family of the neighborhood has a private room;
this is the place where the principal meal is ordered by the family,
and served by young conscript waiters. Am I at fault if I point out
that this universal hostelry is a little too elaborate and mechanical;
that there is more promise of a genuine utopia in Plato’s olives and
cheese and beans, simply served, than in the “perfection of catering
and cooking” which the new age boasts. So one could go down the line
and enumerate the mechanical marvels which take the place of a fully
humanized life; marvels like the telephone concerts and sermons which
astoundingly anticipate by thirty-odd years the radio broadcasting
service which is now a prevalent mania in America. Are these things, as
Aristotle would have said, the material bases of the good life, or are
they substitutes for the good life? There may have been some doubt as
to the answer in Bellamy’s time; but I think there need not be any at
present. In so far as these instruments are consonant with humanized
purposes they are good; in so far as they are irrelevant they are so
much rubbish--idiotic rubbish. A free public library is a good thing;
but a free public library devoted exclusively to distributing the
novels of Gene Stratton Porter and the uplift books of Mr. Orison Swett
Marden would not contribute so much as a useful platitude towards a
vivid and stimulating society.
There is no escaping the problem of ends and the problem of ends, if
I may be permitted a pun, belongs at the beginning. Subordinate to
humanized ends, machinery and organization--yes, complicated machinery
and organization--have undoubtedly a useful contribution to make
towards a good community; unsubordinated, or subordinated only to
the engineer’s conceptions of an efficient industrial equipment and
personnel, the most innocent machine may be as humanly devastating
as a Lewis gun. All this Bellamy overlooked in Looking Backward, and
yet--something remains.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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