The Unsolved Riddle of Social JusticeLeacock, Stephen
General
The Unsolved Riddle of Social Justice
Leacock, Stephen
Economics; Social problems; Socialism
Never then was there a moment in which there was greater need for sane
and serious thought. It is necessary to consider from the ground up the
social organization in which we live and the means whereby it may be
altered and expanded to meet the needs of the time to come. We must do
this or perish. If we do not mend the machine, there are forces moving
in the world that will break it. The blind Samson of labor will seize
upon the pillars of society and bring them down in a common destruction.
* * * * *
Few persons can attain to adult life without being profoundly impressed
by the appalling inequalities of our human lot. Riches and poverty
jostle one another upon our streets. The tattered outcast dozes on his
bench while the chariot of the wealthy is drawn by. The palace is the
neighbor of the slum. We are, in modern life, so used to this that we no
longer see it.
Inequality begins from the very cradle. Some are born into an easy and
sheltered affluence. Others are the children of mean and sordid want.
For some the long toil of life begins in the very bloom time of
childhood and ends only when the broken and exhausted body sinks into a
penurious old age. For others life is but a foolish leisure with mock
activities and mimic avocations to mask its uselessness. And as the
circumstances vary so too does the native endowment of the body and the
mind. Some born in poverty rise to wealth. An inborn energy and capacity
bid defiance to the ill-will of fate. Others sink. The careless hand
lets fall the cradle gift of wealth.
Thus all about us is the moving and shifting spectacle of riches and
poverty, side by side, inextricable.
The human mind, lost in a maze of inequalities that it cannot explain
and evils that it cannot, singly, remedy, must adapt itself as best it
can. An acquired indifference to the ills of others is the price at
which we live. A certain dole of sympathy, a casual mite of personal
relief is the mere drop that any one of us alone can cast into the vast
ocean of human misery. Beyond that we must harden ourselves lest we too
perish. We feed well while others starve. We make fast the doors of our
lighted houses against the indigent and the hungry. What else can we do?
If we shelter _one_ what is that? And if we try to shelter all, we are
ourselves shelterless.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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