“Don’t say a word,” caution the capitalists,—“the workers can’t see the point at all. Ha, ha,—all they want is a job. How meek they are. How lamblike.... Just suppose they should wake up.... Here! you flunkies, you bribed lecturers, orators and editors, keep _busy_. Keep right on talking to the working people. Tell the working class to be satisfied and humble and contented; preach to them that it will be all right in the ‘sweet bye and bye.’ Oh, ha, ha, ha—all right for the workers ‘_in the end_.’ Don’t tell them which end. Tell the workers that ‘_something_ will turn up, sometime—_sure_.’ Tell them to be ‘patient and _hopeful_,’ to ‘hope for a home _over there_.’ (See Chapter Eleven.) “It is a ‘cinch.’ “If the workers go on strike to get a small thin slice of the surplus—why, we CAPITALISTS have the militia, we _capitalists_ have police, we _capitalists_ have the cossacks, we _capitalists_ have the mounted State guards, we _capitalists_ have the regular troops and marines, and we _capitalists_ also have the injunction courts and jails and ‘bull-pens,’—we _capitalists_ have all this armed, bribed outfit to help us starve the workers back to their jobs. “We have a ‘sure thing.’ “Lie low. Keep quiet. “_Let no one speak to the workers about this matter of the surplus._ The worker who sees that beautiful thing called surplus, ceases to be a tame, blind thing, a humble lump, contented with only _part_ of the product of his labor.... But whatever happens—we business men control the powers of government—and that gives us the use of all the judges in gowns and all the armed men in khaki we need to _defend our surplus game_. A meek, satisfied, contented wage-earner is such a useful animal—just as satisfactory as a _chattel_ slave. Like the slave, he’s willing to produce a surplus. _When he objects we have him whipped and kicked_—with a policeman’s club or a bayonet.” Discuss _with your fellow-workers_ this also:—