photo credit: Kaz Andrew

Some little time ago I stood among immemorial English trees that seemed to take hold upon the stars like a brood of Ygdrasils. As I walked among these living pillars I became gradually aware that the rustics who lived and died in their shadow adopted a very curious conversational tone. They seemed to be constantly apologizing for the trees, as if they were a very poor show.

After elaborate investigation, I discovered that their gloomy and penitent tone was traceable to the fact that it was winter and all the trees were bare. I assured them that I did not resent the fact that it was winter, that I knew the thing had happened before, and that no forethought on their part could have averted this blow of destiny. But I could not in any way reconcile them to the fact that it was winter. There was evidently a general feeling that I had caught the trees in a kind of disgraceful deshabille, and that they ought not to be seen until, like the first human sinners, they had covered themselves with leaves. So it is quite clear that, while very few people appear to know anything of how trees look in winter, the actual foresters know less than anyone. So far from the line of the tree when it is bare appearing harsh and severe, it is luxuriantly indefinable to an unusual degree; the fringe of the forest melts away like a vignette. The tops of two or three high trees when they are leafless are so soft that they seem like the gigantic brooms of that fabulous lady who was sweeping the cobwebs off the sky. The outline of a leafy forest is in comparison hard, gross and blotchy; the clouds of night do not more certainly obscure the moon than those green and monstrous clouds obscure the tree; the actual sight of the little wood, with its gray and silver sea of life, is entirely a winter vision. So dim and delicate is the heart of the winter woods, a kind of glittering gloaming, that a figure stepping towards us in the chequered twilight seems as if he were breaking through unfathomable depths of spiders’ webs.

But surely the idea that its leaves are the chief grace of a tree is a vulgar one, on a par with the idea that his hair is the chief grace of a pianist. When winter, that healthy ascetic, carries his gigantic razor over hill and valley, and shaves all the trees like monks, we feel surely that they are all the more like trees if they are shorn, just as so many painters and musicians would be all the more like men if they were less like mops. But it does appear to be a deep and essential difficulty that men have an abiding terror of their own structure, or of the structure of things they love. This is felt dimly in the skeleton of the tree: it is felt profoundly in the skeleton of the man.

The importance of the human skeleton is very great, and the horror with which it is commonly regarded is somewhat mysterious. Without claiming for the human skeleton a wholly conventional beauty, we may assert that he is certainly not uglier than a bull-dog, whose popularity never wanes, and that he has a vastly more cheerful and ingratiating expression. But just as man is mysteriously ashamed of the skeletons of the trees in winter, so he is mysteriously ashamed of the skeleton of himself in death. It is a singular thing altogether, this horror of the architecture of things. One would think it would be most unwise in a man to be afraid of a skeleton, since Nature has set curious and quite insuperable obstacles to his running away from it.

One ground exists for this terror: a strange idea has infected humanity that the skeleton is typical of death. A man might as well say that a factory chimney was typical of bankruptcy. The factory may be left naked after ruin, the skeleton may be left naked after bodily dissolution; but both of them have had a lively and workmanlike life of their own, all the pulleys creaking, all the wheels turning, in the House of Livelihood as in the House of Life. There is no reason why this creature (new, as I fancy, to art), the living skeleton, should not become the essential symbol of life.

The truth is that man’s horror of the skeleton is not horror of death at all. It is man’s eccentric glory that he has not, generally speaking, any objection to being dead, but has a very serious objection to being undignified. And the fundamental matter which troubles him in the skeleton is the reminder that the ground-plan of his appearance is shamelessly grotesque. I do not know why he should object to this. He contentedly takes his place in a world that does not pretend to be genteel—a laughing, working, jeering world. He sees millions of animals carrying, with quite a dandified levity, the most monstrous shapes and appendages, the most preposterous horns, wings, and legs, when they are necessary to utility. He sees the good temper of the frog, the unaccountable happiness of the hippopotamus. He sees a whole universe which is ridiculous, from the animalcule, with a head too big for its body, up to the comet, with a tail too big for its head. But when it comes to the delightful oddity of his own inside, his sense of humour rather abruptly deserts him.

In the Middle Ages and in the Renaissance (which was, in certain times and respects, a much gloomier period) this idea of the skeleton had a vast influence in freezing the pride out of all earthly pomps and the fragrance out of all fleeting pleasures. But it was not, surely, the mere dread of death that did this, for these were ages in which men went to meet death singing; it was the idea of the degradation of man in the grinning ugliness of his structure that withered the juvenile insolence of beauty and pride. And in this it almost assuredly did more good than harm. There is nothing so cold or so pitiless as youth, and youth in aristocratic stations and ages tended to an impeccable dignity, an endless summer of success which needed to be very sharply reminded of the scorn of the stars. It was well that such flamboyant prigs should be convinced that one practical joke, at least, would bowl them over, that they would fall into one grinning man-trap, and not rise again. That the whole structure of their existence was as wholesomely ridiculous as that of a pig or a parrot they could not be expected to realize; that birth was humorous, coming of age humorous, drinking and fighting humorous, they were far too young and solemn to know. But at least they were taught that death was humorous.

There is a peculiar idea abroad that the value and fascination of what we call Nature lie in her beauty. But the fact that Nature is beautiful in the sense that a dado or a Liberty curtain is beautiful, is only one of her charms, and almost an accidental one. The highest and most valuable quality in Nature is not her beauty, but her generous and defiant ugliness. A hundred instances might be taken. The croaking noise of the rooks is, in itself, as hideous as the whole hell of sounds in a London railway tunnel. Yet it uplifts us like a trumpet with its coarse kindliness and honesty, and the lover in ‘Maud’ could actually persuade himself that this abominable noise resembled his lady-love’s name. Has the poet, for whom Nature means only roses and lilies, ever heard a pig grunting? It is a noise that does a man good—a strong, snorting, imprisoned noise, breaking its way out of unfathomable dungeons through every possible outlet and organ. It might be the voice of the earth itself, snoring in its mighty sleep. This is the deepest, the oldest, the most wholesome and religious sense of the value of Nature—the value which comes from her immense babyishness. She is as top-heavy, as grotesque, as solemn and as happy as a child. The mood does come when we see all her shapes like shapes that a baby scrawls upon a slate—simple, rudimentary, a million years older and stronger than the whole disease that is called Art. The objects of earth and heaven seem to combine into a nursery tale, and our relation to things seems for a moment so simple that a dancing lunatic would be needed to do justice to its lucidity and levity. The tree above my head is flapping like some gigantic bird standing on one leg; the moon is like the eye of a Cyclops. And, however much my face clouds with sombre vanity, or vulgar vengeance, or contemptible contempt, the bones of my skull beneath it are laughing for ever.

photo credit: Obama-Biden Transition Project

The human race, to which so many of my readers belong, has been playing at children’s games from the beginning, and will probably do it till the end, which is a nuisance for the few people who grow up. And one of the games to which it is most attached is called, “Keep to-morrow dark,” and which is also named (by the rustics in Shropshire, I have no doubt) “Cheat the Prophet.” The players listen very carefully and respectfully to all that the clever men have to say about what is to happen in the next generation. The players then wait until all the clever men are dead, and bury them nicely. They then go and do something else. That is all. For a race of simple tastes, however, it is great fun.

For human beings, being children, have the childish wilfulness and the childish secrecy. And they never have from the beginning of the world done what the wise men have seen to be inevitable. They stoned the false prophets, it is said; but they could have stoned true prophets with a greater and juster enjoyment. Individually, men may present a more or less rational appearance, eating, sleeping, and scheming. But humanity as a whole is changeful, mystical, fickle, delightful. Men are men, but Man is a woman.

But in the beginning of the twentieth century the game of Cheat the Prophet was made far more difficult than it had ever been before. The reason was, that there were so many prophets and so many prophecies, that it was difficult to elude all their ingenuities. When a man did something free and frantic and entirely his own, a horrible thought struck him afterwards; it might have been predicted. Whenever a duke climbed a lamp-post, when a dean got drunk,
he could not be really happy, he could not be certain that he was not fulfilling some prophecy.

In the beginning of the twentieth century you could not see the ground for clever men. They were so common that a stupid man was quite exceptional, and when they found him, they followed him in crowds down the street and treasured him up and gave him some high post in the State. And all these clever men were at work giving accounts of what would happen
in the next age, all quite clear, all quite keen-sighted and ruthless, and all quite different. And it seemed that the good old game of hoodwinking your ancestors could not really be managed this time, because the ancestors neglected meat and sleep and practical politics, so that they might meditate day and night on what their descendants would be likely to do.

But the way the prophets of the twentieth century went to work was this. They took something or other that was certainly going on in their time, and then said that it would go on more and more until something extraordinary happened. And very often they added that in some odd place that extraordinary thing had happened, and that it showed the signs of the times.

From the Introduction to The Napoleon of Notting Hill

photo credit: Monochrome

Now, one may believe in democracy or disbelieve in it. It would be grossly unfair to conceal the fact that there are difficulties on both sides. The difficulty of believing in democracy is that it is so hard to believe–like God and most other good things. The difficulty of disbelieving in democracy is that there is nothing else to believe in. I mean there is nothing else on earth or in earthly politics. Unless an aristocracy is selected by gods, it must be selected by men. It may be negatively and passively permitted, but either heaven or humanity must permit it; otherwise it has no more moral authority than a lucky pickpocket. It is babytalk to talk about “Supermen” or “Nature’s Aristocracy” or “The Wise Few.” “The Wise Few” must be either those whom others think wise–who are often fools; or those who think themselves wise–who are always fools.

Well, if one happens to believe in democracy as I do, as a large trust in the active and passive judgment of the human conscience, one can have no hesitation, no “impartiality,” about one’s view of divorce; and especially about one’s view of the extension of divorce among the democracy. A democrat in any sense must regard that extension as the last and vilest of the insults offered by the modern rich to the modern poor. The rich do largely believe in divorce; the poor do mainly believe in fidelity. But the modern rich are powerful and the modem poor are powerless. Therefore for years and decades past the rich have been preaching their own virtues. Now that they have begun to preach their vices too, I think it is time to kick.

photo credit: kaelin.fe

What I venture to criticize in certain men, whom some call scientists and I call materialists, is their perpetual use of Mythology. One half of what they say is so true as to be trite; the other half of what they say is so untrue as to be transparent. But they cover both their platitudes and their pretenses by an elaborate parade of legendary and allegorical images.

I read this in some remarks on Darwinism by one of the last surviving Darwinians: “Among the individuals of every species there goes on, as Malthus had realised, a competition of struggle for the means of life, and Nature selects the individuals which vary in the most successful direction.” Now when men of the old religions said that God chose a people and raised up a prophet, at least they meant something; and they meant what they said. They meant that a being with a mind and a will used them in an act of selection. But who is Nature, and how does she, or he, or it, manage to select anything or anybody? All that the writer actually has to say is that some individuals do emerge when other individuals are extinguished. It hardly needed either Darwin or Darwinians to tell us that. But Nature selecting those that vary in the most successful direction means nothing whatever, except that the successful succeed. But this tautological truism is wrapped up in clouds of mythology, by the introduction of a mythical being whom even the writer regards as a myth. The reader is to be impressed and deluded by the vision of a vast stone goddess sitting on a mountain throne, and pointing at a particular frog or rabbit saying, in tones of thunder, that this alone is to survive. All we know is that it does survive (for the moment), and then we pride ourselves on being able to repeat the mere fact that it does survive in half a hundred variegated and flowery expressions: as that it has survival value; or that it is naturally selected for survival; or that it survives because it is the fittest for survival; or that Nature’s great law of the survival of the fittest sternly commands it to survive.

The critics of religion used to say that its mysteries were mummeries; but these things are in the special and real sense mummeries. They are things offered to a credulous congregation by priests who know them to be mummeries. It is impossible to prove that the priest knows that there is no god in the shrine, or no truth in the oracle. But we know that the materialist knows that there is no such things as a large fastidious lady, called Nature, who points a finger at a frog.

The particular case in which this mythological metaphor was used is of course another matter. It is, indeed, a matter which has involved at various times a great deal of this element of materialist mythology. To see what truth was really in it we should have to go back to the old Darwinian debate; which I have not the least intention of doing here. But I may observe, in passing, that this notion of Nature selecting things is specially incompatible with all that can really be said for their own case; and that the very name of natural selection is a most unnatural name for it. For it is their whole case that everything happened, in the ordinary human sense, by accident. We should rather call it coincidence; and some of us call it quite incredible coincidence. But, anyhow, the whole case for it is that one quadruped happened to have a long neck, and happened to live at a moment when it was necessary to reach a taller tree or shrub. If these happenings happen to happen about a hundred times in succession, in exactly the same way, you can by that process turn some sort of sheep or goat into a giraffe. Whether this is probable or not is another question. But the whole Darwinian argument is that it is NOT a case of Nature selecting, any more than of God selecting, or anyone else selecting, but a case of things falling out in that fashion. We are quite ready to discuss trees and giraffes in their place, without perpetual references to God. Could the materialists not so far control their rhetorical and romantic sentimentalism as to do it without perpetual reference to Nature? Shall we make a bargain; that we will for the moment leave out our theology, if they will leave out their mythology?

But the mythological habit is not entirely and exclusively confined to men of science, or even to materialists. This sort of mythology is rather generally scattered over the modern world. The popular form of the mythological is the metaphorical. Certain figures of speech are fixed in the modern mind, exactly as the fables of the gods and nymphs were fixed in the mind of pagan antiquity. It is astonishing to note how often, when we address a man with anything resembling an idea, he answers with some recognised metaphor, supposed to be appropriate to the case. If you say to him, “I myself prefer the principle of the Guild to the principle of the Trust,” he will not answer you by talking about principles. He can be counted on to say: “You can’t put the clock back,” with all the regularity of a ticking clock. This is a very extreme example of the mental breakdown that goes with a relapse into metaphor. For the man is actually understanding his own case out of sheer love of metaphor. It may be that you cannot put time back, but you can put the clock back. He would be in a stronger position if he talked about the abstraction called time; but an all-devouring appetite for figurative language forces him to talk abut clocks. Of course the real question raised has nothing to do with either clocks or time. It is the question of whether certain abstract principles, which may or may not have been observed in the past, ought to be observed in future. But the point is here that even the man who means that we cannot reconstruct the past can hardly ever reconstruct his own sentence in any other form except this figurative form. Without his myth, or his metaphor, he is lost.

Another mass of metaphors is drawn from the phenomena of morning, or the fact that the sun rises; or, rather (I grovel in apology to the man of science), appears to rise. It is a perfectly natural metaphor for poets; or indeed, for all men, in that aspect in which all men are mystics. That there is mystery in these natural things, which the imagination understands more subtly than the reason, is true enough. Nor have I any contempt even for mythology considered mythology. But when we want to know what somebody wants to do, when we ask a free-thinker what he thinks, and why he thinks it, it is a little tiresome to be told that he is waiting for the Dawn, or engaged at the moment in singing Songs Before Sunrise. One is tempted to retort that Dawn is not always an entirely cheerful thing, even for those who have exercised their free thought upon the conventional tradition of their own society. There is such a thing as being shot at Dawn.

I do not mean for a moment, of course, that we should do without myths and metaphors altogether. I am constantly using them myself, and shall continue to do so. But I think we ought all to be on guard against depending on them as a substitute for reason. Perhaps it would be well to have a Fast Day, on which we undertook to abstain from everything but abstract terms, Let us all agree that every Friday we will do without metaphors as without meat. I am sure it would be good for the intellectual digestion.

photo credit: Julien Menichini

Published in Tremendous Trifles in 1909, reprinted from one of Chesterton’s essays in the Daily News, this reflection on the fall of the Bastille is rather prophetic of the meaning behind the attacks on September 11, 2001. It may have not been the socialists, and the banking institution smashed was in the U.S., but while it was politically and financially insignificant it has changed the world.

The destruction of the Bastille was not a reform; it was something more important than a reform. It was an iconoclasm; it was the breaking of a stone image. The people saw the building like a giant looking at them with a score of eyes, and they struck at it as at a carved fact. For of all the shapes in which that immense illusion called materialism can terrify the soul, perhaps the most oppressive are big buildings. Man feels like a fly, an accident, in the thing he has himself made. It requires a violent effort of the spirit to remember that man made this confounding thing and man could unmake it. Therefore the mere act of the ragged people in the street taking and destroying a huge public building has a spiritual, a ritual meaning far beyond its immediate political results. It is a religious service. If, for instance, the Socialists were numerous or courageous enough to capture and smash up the Bank of England, you might argue for ever about the inutility of the act, and how it really did not touch the root of the economic problem in the correct manner. But mankind would never forget it. It would change the world.

Architecture is a very good test of the true strength of a society, for the most valuable things in a human state are the irrevocable things–marriage, for instance. And architecture approaches nearer than any other art to being irrevocable, because it is so difficult to get rid of. You can turn a picture with its face to the wall; it would be a nuisance to turn that Roman cathedral with its face to the wall. You can tear a poem to pieces; it is only in moments of very sincere emotion that you tear a town-hall to pieces. A building is akin to dogma; it is insolent, like a dogma. Whether or no it is permanent, it claims permanence like a dogma. People ask why we have no typical architecture of the modern world, like impressionism in painting. Surely it is obviously because we have not enough dogmas; we cannot bear to see anything in the sky that is solid and enduring, anything in the sky that does not change like the clouds of the sky. But along with this decision which is involved in creating a building, there goes a quite similar decision in the more delightful task of smashing one. The two of necessity go together. In few places have so many fine public buildings been set up as here in Paris, and in few places have so many been destroyed. When people have finally got into the horrible habit of preserving buildings, they have got out of the habit of building them. And in London one mingles, as it were, one’s tears because so few are pulled down.

The Davidson County Dispatch cited Chesterton’s legendary response to the question “What’s Wrong With the World.”

An Australian political article cited Chesterton.

A profile of author Philip Yancey cites his influence from G.K. Chesterton.

Chesterton was quoted in an article about tolerance on Cincinnati.com

photo credit: John_Stephen_Dwyer

A vast amount of nonsense is talked against negative and destructive things. The silliest sort of progressive complains of negative morality, and compares it unfavorably with positive morality. The silliest sort of conservative complains of destructive reform and compares it unfavorably with constructive reform. Both the progressive and the conservative entirely neglect to consider the very meaning of the words “yes” and “no”. To give the answer “yes” to one question is to imply the answer “no” to another question. To desire the construction of something is to desire the destruction of whatever prevents its construction. This is particularly plain in the fuss about the “negative” morality of the Ten Commandments. The truth is that the curtness of the Commandments is an evidence, not of the gloom and narrowness of a religion but of its liberality and humanity. It is shorter to state the things forbidden than the things permitted precisely because most things are permitted and only a few things are forbidden. An optimist who insisted on a purely positive morality would have to begin by telling a man that he might pick dandelions on a common and go on for months before he came to the fact that he might throw pebbles into the sea. In comparison with this positive morality the Ten Commandments rather shine in that brevity which is the soul of wit.

It is shorter to state the things forbidden than the things permitted precisely because most things are permitted and only a few things are forbidden.

But of course the fallacy is even more fundamental than this. Negative morality is positive morality, stated in the plainest and therefore the most positive way. If I am told not to murder Mr. Robinson, if I am stopped in the very act of murdering Mr. Robinson, it is obvious that Mr. Robinson is not only spared, but in a sense renewed, and even created. And those who like Mr. Robinson, among them my reactionary romanticism might suggest the inclusion of Mrs. Robinson, will be well aware that they have recovered a living and complex unity. And similarly, those who like European civilisation, and the common code of what used to be called Christendom, will realize that salvation is not negative, but highly positive, and even highly complex. They will rejoice at its escape, long before they have leisure for its examination. But, without examination, they will know that there is a great deal to be examined, and a great deal that is worth examination. Nothing is negative except nothing. It is not our rescue that was negative, but only the nothingness and annihilation from which we were rescued.

On the other side there is the same fallacy about merely destructive reform. It could be applied just as easily to the merely destructive war. In both cases destruction may be essential to the avoidance of destruction, and also to the very possibility of construction. Men are not merely destroying a ship in order to have a shipwreck; they may be merely destroying a tree in order to have a ship. To complain that we spent four years in the Great War in mere destruction is to complain that we spent them in escaping from being destroyed. And it is, once again, to forget the fact that the failure of the murderer means the life of a positive and not a negative Mr. Robinson. If we take the imaginary Mr. Robinson as a type of the average modern man in Western Europe, and study him from head to foot, we shall find defects as well as merits. And in the whole civilisation we have saved, we shall find defects that amounts to diseases. Its feet, if not of clay, are certainly in clay, stuck in the mud of a materialistic industrial destitution and despair. To say it is a positive good and glory to have saved Mr. Robinson from strangling is to miss the whole meaning of human life. It is to forget every good as soon as we have saved it, that is, to lose it as soon as we have got it. Progress of that kind is a hope that is the enemy of faith, and a faith that is the enemy of charity.

When our hopes for the coming time seem disturbed or doubtful, and peace chaotic, let us remember that it is really our disappointment that is an illusion. It is our rescue that is a reality. Our grounds for gratitude are really far greater than our powers of being grateful. It is in the mood of a noble sort of humility, and even a noble sort of fear, that new things are really made. We adorn things most when we love them most. And we love them most when we have nearly lost them.

Chesterton was quoted in an article on Glenn Beck’s “Restoring Honor” rally.

GKC was also quoted in an article on the suddenness of death.

A columnist for the Independent quoted Chesterton on an article about modern society’s hatred for religion.

Chesterton was also quoted, at some length, in a call for a new investigation of the 9/11 attacks.

He was also quoted in the Bangor Daily News in an article about gardening.

The Acton society has attacked a recent surge of discussion about G.K. Chesterton’s idea of distributism.

photo credit: Art By Steve Johnson

In the interest of spreading the ideas behind Mcrocapitalism as far as possible, I’m posting the full text of the book here in this post.
If you want to read it offline, you can get the Kindle edition from Amazon or the PDF version here for $5.

The Choice Before Us

Let us begin with a story.

In Greek mythology, two monsters plagued a narrow strait through which Odysseus, hero of the Trojan War, had to pass on his way home. The two beasts forced him to make a terrible choice.

Scylla, a six-headed monster sat on one side of the channel, and Charybdis, the giant whirlpool was on the opposite side. Rather than risk his entire ship to the total destruction of Charybdis, Odysseus chose to sail a little closer to Scylla. Six of his men were devoured, but the rest were spared.

Two similar monsters continually threaten all human societies. They are called Socialism and Capitalism. Both victimize humanity and force governments two sway between one and the other, sacrificing the independence and freedom of all their citizens, or sacrificing a portion of the population to save the others.

The course between the two monsters, however, has always existed. Like the passage in the Greek seas, it predates even the monsters that give it notoriety. With the arrival of the beasts it was corrupted on either side into twisted, swirling oblivion and the incarnation of greedy hunger. Just as Greek captains sailed closer to one beast to avoid the other, governments recoil in fear from one beast and lead their countries, and their citizens, to the other doom.

Scylla, the hydra, represents the economic system known as Capitalism. In order to protect the individual, Capitalism seeks to protect private productive property by keeping it in the hands of citizens. However, it has no bounds by definition, and aided by advancements in technology that characterized the Industrial Revolution, it became a monster that reduced most citizens to
wage-slaves for the few, destroying their capital, and with it their freedom, independence, and security.

Charybdis, the whirlpool, represents the economic system known as Socialism. In order to protect the equality of individuals that is threatened by Capitalism, Socialism keeps the means of production in the hands of the State to be administered and re-distributed to the people according to their needs. There is no independence, only dependence on the State, which controlled by the few is easily and eventually corrupted. As the state cannot oppose itself, all opposition is squashed. Individual freedom is lost to the swirling mass of an enormous government.

The middle path, the natural passage itself that is so neglected by both captain and head of state, is called Microcapitalism.

A Few Definitions

All metaphors are flawed; but the story of Odysseus’ choice presents some vivid imagery to the decisions regarding economic systems that we face. However, before we continue further in this book the definition of a few key terms should be established so that our imaginations and varied experiences do not cloud our discussion.

Productive Property is synonymous with the terms capital and means of production. It can be defined as that which can be owned and produces or is necessary to produce other things of value, either for direct use or trade.

Capitalism is the economic system based on the theory that productive property should be in the hands of private citizens.

Socialism is the economic system based on the theory that productive property should be in the hands of the people, but administered, controlled, or in some cases outright owned by the government.

Microcapitalism is the economic system based on the theory that productive property should be in the hands of as many private citizens as possible.

The State refers the local system of government, regardless of its form. Capitalism, Socialism, or Microcapitalism, as economic systems, can exist in any form of government, from despotism to democracy.

Things As They Are

Capitalism
Property monopolized or in the possession of a few is a curse to mankind. We should dispense it among all ranks. We should preserve not absolute equality – this is unnecessary, but preserve all from extreme poverty, and all others from extreme riches.
-John Adams, Dissertation on the Canon and the Feudal Law, 1765

Capitalism has no universally accepted definition, but as it has already been stated, it can be broadly and simply defined as the theory that productive property should be in the hands of private citizens.

Capitalism recognizes the inalienable right to property identified by John Locke in his Second Treatise on Government. As such, it is rooted in natural rights which have been asserted by philosophers, religious leaders, and governments for as long as our history can demonstrate.

The problem with Capitalism lies in its lack of limitations. Any definition of Capitalism states only that the people should own property, and that individual property should be protected from government control. There is no definition of Capitalism that states how much is too much for a single person or entity to own.

Since the industrial revolution, it has become possible for a small number of people to control large companies comprised of thousands of employees. This was brought about, for the first time in human history, with the technological advances that allowed for machines to automate jobs, such as the assembly line.

Capitalism, following the industrial revolution, has grown beyond its natural roots – like an untended garden that has grown wild, where weeds choke the vegetable plants and flowers.

Employees toil for the benefit of the company owners. They are paid a wage, in almost all cases set by the company, and are paid for their time. What they create for the company, the fruits of their labor, are combined with that of others and sold to the public. The employee’s wage, and any benefits, such as health insurance, are the only compensation they receive for their work. Seldom is such compensation equitable for the amount of capital produced by the labor.

The employee trades their time and their work for the means for day-to-day living. If they do not work, they do not receive the means to survive. They do not control their compensation, and they must follow whatever commands they are given – even regarding such personal decisions as expression, recreational activities, or family matters – or else risk termination. In this way their situation is not unlike those of slaves, a class which has existed throughout human history. Slaves own nothing, not even themselves or the fruits of their labor. Their freedom is non-existent, and they must trade their toil for the means of survival.

For this reason employees in a capitalistic society have been called wage-slaves. If this seems unjust, consider they have also been referred to by some, such as J.D. Salinger, as another long-standing class who sells themselves for the means of survival: prostitutes.
Employees quickly become viewed by the company they work for as part of the machine. Their cost, that is, their compensation, must not exceed their output – otherwise, they are a liability. Jobs and employee roles are defined so that a person fits an opening like a bolt fits a nut. Just about anyone meeting certain criteria will do. Recruiters brag about computer systems that scan a person’s qualifications and fit them to a job that uses similar terms to describe its requirements. How is this different from replacing a part from your car from a warehouse of various parts? People have become part of a machine, an asset just like the tools they use.

As companies grow, more of their customers become their employees. When the company cuts staff or wages to improve profitability, they reduce the buying power of their own employees. In this way they resemble a snake eating their own tail.

These are just some of the primary consequences of unrestrained Capitalism. As the concentration of productive property increased, the consequences grew more severe.

With almost limitless resources, the few capitalists still free had the means to run for political office or support the campaigns of those who protected their interests. News was delivered to citizens by means of only a handful of companies, and thus could be influenced by those subsidizing the media with advertising dollars. Once a political career was over, many politicians could look forward to a well-paying job in the private sector. Bribery took on new forms such as employment and lucrative business contracts.

Education became a means to the end of supplying workers who fit job descriptions, who would be less likely to challenge authority and more likely to fall in line. Those who posed a problem were dealt with in several ways, such as expulsion, or personality altering medications.

In other cases, the government directly interfered in private affairs to benefit large corporate interests. In the 2005 case Kelo v. City of New London the Supreme Court ruled in favor of forcing residential property owners to surrender their property to a large corporation, because the exchange was supposed to benefit the community at large. In other words, a corporation could petition a city or township to seize property owned by citizens, if they could show their plans would create more jobs.

In 2008, the U.S. Government passed the Emergency Economic Stabilization Act which authorized the expenditure of up to $700 billion, paid by citizens through taxes, to private financial companies. Struggling automaker General Motors received over $50 billion, driven by fear that if the manufacturer failed, the lost jobs would cripple the national economy. The justification for the use of public funds to aid private corporations was that the companies were “too big to fail” and had to be subsidized by taxpayers.

With capital concentrated in the hands of the few, another ancient evil reared its ugly head: usury, the charging of interest. Condemned from the time of the ancient Greeks as unnatural and legitimized only after the Reformation, the “breeding of money” allowed the rich to get richer by charging exorbitant prices on the regular, necessary dealings of the wage-slaves. To buy a house in which to live, to buy a car to get to work, or to get the starting capital to begin a new business, or even for everyday expenditures with a credit card – all of these loans became commonplace, and a new stream of revenue for the company owners and a ever increasing banking industry, increasing profits and power at the same time.

Our world has seemingly abandoned the philosophical basis on which our culture was founded. Capitalists often turn to Aristotle to show a sound philosophical basis for their theory. However, in his Politics Aristotle wrote: “In the art of acquiring riches there are no limits, for the object of that is money and possessions; but economy has a boundary.” In regards to usury itself he said “of all forms of money-making it is most against nature.”

Like Scylla, Capitalism requires the sacrifice of some citizens for the benefit of others. Unfortunately, in the case of Capitalism, it is the many that are sacrificed for the benefit of the few.

Socialism
If we do not restore the Institution of Property we cannot escape restoring the Institution of Slavery; there is no third course.
Hilaire Belloc, The Servile State, 1912

Socialism can be defined as the theory that productive property should be in the hands of the people, administered by their government.

Socialism seeks to treat all as equal by distributing the fruits of production, regardless of how much the individual contributes to the resources to be shared. While this is supposed to ensure that all members of a society receive the necessary provisions for life, it does so by undermining the work of the more ambitious, and removes the motive of self-interest and the human right to the natural reward for one’s work.

While Capitalism is optimistic about humanity’s tendency to work for the common good, Socialism is pessimistic. It seeks to use government control to enforce the redistribution of the fruits of production so everyone gets what they need. Unfortunately, as a great deal of power is then given to a relatively small number of human beings to oversee the process, Socialism creates the very problem it is trying to avoid. As Lord Acton put it, power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.

Socialism is also self-defeating because, in failing to reward the individual and providing according to need, it violates the natural right to controlling one’s own property and the fruits of one’s labor. Without such motivation, adequate production cannot be made to meet the demand.

Finally, a socialist government provides everything for its citizens, however, it cannot provide an opposing viewpoint to balance extremism or oppose corruption. How can a state-owned news service investigate its own owner? It cannot bite the hand that feeds it; nor can the state allow its own appendage to undermine its authority.

Socialism cannot tolerate opposition, and individual views and rights, even those of freedom of speech and religious practice, are crushed and trampled.

G.K. Chesterton pointed out a state society that already exists within each country; a Socialist paradise of sorts in which all are equally employed, all are clothed, and no one goes hungry. Residents of these societies have their every need met by the State. This sustainable example of Socialism is only found in a prison.

Like Charybdis, all individuals in a Socialist society are consumed, unified in an inhuman mess.

If this book seems unfairly harsh toward Capitalism, it is because Microcapitalism is nearer to it than the over-reactionary Socialism. Also, the opponents of Socialism have been louder and seemingly greater in number than critics of Capitalism, and those who criticize Capitalism are generally proponents of Socialism. Therefore there is already great deal of criticism written about the consequences of Socialism, so this work need not belabor the point.

In the Belly of the Beast

Big Business and State Socialism are very much alike, especially Big Business.
-G.K. Chesterton, G.K.’s Weekly April 10, 1926

In the belly of the beast, it does not matter who ate you. The Greek poet did not expound on what happened to sailors who were eaten by Scylla or Charybdis, but it is probably safe to assume the fate of those swallowed did not fare better in one or the other.
In the same way, Capitalism, as we have seen it unfold, results in the same situation as Socialism for the working classes. The few control the fates of the many, creating a class of wage-slaves with little choice in their lives. Capitalism does not distinguish the monopoly of one man controlling an industry from the many owning several competing businesses in the same industry. A man may have hundreds of slaves in his machine: the only difference between Socialism and Capitalism is that one man is a state official, and the other is a citizen in the public sector. It can and has been argued that at least in a Socialist society the master is chosen by the people, whereas in Capitalism power is granted to the one who seized the most.

Those in the midst of crisis caused by a concentration of wealth may still cling to Capitalism as the solution. Capitalism works, they claim, despite human failing; but what they mean is Capitalism works better than Socialism. It does not mean it is our only option.
There is nothing in the definition of capitalism that prohibits exploiting others, under-paying workers, or bank ownership of millions of homes while the ranks of the homeless swell with families evicted for being swindled by predatory lending.

Capitalism cannot condemn that which we all know is wrong, and therefore Capitalism cannot be the answer.

When a government reacts to the failings of unrestricted Capitalism by embracing Socialism, the fault lies squarely with the citizens that allowed greed to become a good. Seduced by the luxurious lifestyle of the rich, the selfish ethics permeated even the working classes who then engaged in stingy self-indulgence, ignoring the needs of others. Socialism is an attempt to legislate charity, following failure of free citizens to look after one another.

A person must be free to give willingly to those in need; charity cannot be demanded or legislated. If those with more than is necessary to survive do not willingly share with those who are in need, they will eventually lose both their property and their freedom.

What is Microcapitalism? The solution to this economic identity crisis lies in a tempered version of Capitalism called Microcapitalism. Where Capitalism is defined by productive property being in the hands of the private citizens, Microcapitalism is defined by productive property being in the hands of many citizens.

The difference between Microcapitalism and Capitalism is subtle, but very important. Capitalism is generally concerned with protecting an individual’s right to property, regardless of how and why it is obtained, from those who would take it away. Capitalism is chiefly concerned with the State taking private property or redistributing it. Microcapitalism is concerned with every individual’s right to property, and is as concerned about another citizen or private enterprise taking one’s lawful property as much as the State.

There is another theory that is similar to Microcapitalism known as Distributism. In the early years of the industrial revolution, distributists, including G.K. Chesterton and Hilaire Belloc, called for the defense of small property. Distributism had its shortcomings. Its proponents could not have foreseen the technological advances in digital media and communications that would restore the producers’ connection with the market. Their limited view of productive property meant that their goals were too focused on agriculture and a return to family farms. This isolates those unable to even grow a garden from participating. Furthermore, the name was terrible and caused the theory to be confused with Socialism. “Distributism” evokes the idea of a redistribution of wealth similar to Socialism.

Both Distributism and Microcapitalism are based on the idea that Capitalism is a perversion of the natural way of things, and Socialism is a reaction to Capitalism that is just as unjust.

What went wrong?

Our society is so abnormal that the normal man never dreams of having the normal occupation of looking after his own property. When he chooses a trade, he chooses one of the ten thousand trades that involve looking after other people’s property.
- G.K. Chesterton in Commonwealth, October 12, 1932

Distributists considered their theory of small property to be the way things had worked before the industrial revolution. Citing writers like William Cobbett who had chronicled the lives of rural citizens, they pointed out that when people had property of their own they had leisure, stability, and security. Cobbett wrote that with a garden of just a quarter acre, a cow, and room to pasture his animal and gather firewood, an English peasant could rather leisurely live on just 10 shillings a week (roughly equivalent to $57 in today’s U.S. dollars) by working for local farmers.

Life was not perfect, and there were abuses of power. But throughout human history economy worked like this: the many had small property from which they produced what they needed to live, and traded for that which they could not produce.

A peasant with a pitchfork, so often portrayed as part of a mob, was a fearsome sight to lords and kings not only because he was one of many with a sharp object, but because he was one of many with a tool to till his own land.

This independent way of life was seen as idle by larger landowners. The machinery of the industrial revolution provided the means to keep men busy in a factory instead of the idleness of looking after one’s own interests. The promise of a better way of life, fringe benefits such as health insurance, and a steady income seduced many to leave the family homestead and move closer to
the factories. Small property was abandoned for the selling of one’s labor for a steady rate of pay.

At this point in history, the definition of Capitalism became insufficient. The tools of the new revolution allowed a single man to employ thousands, under legal employment contracts, and pay them low enough that he could at once gain an advantage in the market and profit immensely. The formula was applied in every aspect of commerce throughout the 20th Century. Newspapers, hospitals, retail stores – everywhere employees sold their labor for a steady wage, instead of getting a proper share of the capital they created for their employers.

While some of these masters of capitalism were philanthropic with some of their earnings, their fortunes were made by denying capital to those who earned their fortunes. Credit for Carnegie Hall belongs to Andrew Carnegie as much as the Great Pyramids are the work of the Pharaohs. In both cases the master has taken all of the credit for a marvel created by their slaves.

Not all tyrants are in government.

Many capitalists were too greedy; working their employees long and for extremely low pay. The employees joined together in unions to protect their interests, but even then they were already broken. They demanded better working conditions, better hours, better pay. They were still content to be slaves, to sell their labor outright for much less than it was worth.

Money became seen as capital, as productive property in its own right. In this way the employees were told they were receiving just compensation for their work. The banking industry expanded and grew rapidly, as the rich invested their money to earn more money. With a sizeable fortune one did not have to work, for money could be bred again and again in the markets. Banking and investment income was not new to the industrial revolution, but it grew considerably as the capitalism fueled the wealth of those who enriched themselves by their employees’ labor.

Money is at once the most versatile form of capital, but also the most worthless. Its value continually shifts, generally downward with inflation. It does nothing in and of itself, and it alone is insufficient to meet the basic needs of any human being.

By the end of the 20th Century, the industrial revolution had created a culture of consumerism almost around the world. Giant companies controlled millions of employees, able to make policies more binding and restrictive than law through the simple threat of firing. Instead of fearing big government, corporations became the villains in the dystopian nightmares of movies, books and television. Governments around the world were so entangled, influenced, and even controlled by big business it no longer mattered to the average citizen who was elected to office.

The Next Revolution

The world just gave you control over the means of production. Not to master them is a sin.
-Seth Godin, Linchpin, 2010

The next advance in technology brought about what is called the Age of Information. This next revolution took place as quietly and bloodless as the one that preceded it.

Computers which filled rooms in the 1950s were outclassed in power by wristwatches made in the 1990s. In time, desktop computers became far more affordable than automobiles, and far more versatile than any other tool mankind had created.

And then came the Internet.

A worldwide network of computers changed the way the world communicated overnight. When communication takes a leap, so does commerce. Services like eBay, Amazon, and Etsy brought back the marketplace in a new form.

The industrial revolution’s mass production had created the tools for its own destruction. Producers were now connected to the rest of the world. Unfortunately, large companies still had control over their most valuable and crucial asset – their human employees.

Even as the companies laid off and fired hundreds of thousands of employees, the employees clung to the empty promises and oppression under which they had lived so long. Just as the Hebrews who had recently been delivered from Egyptian slavery begged to return to their oppression, so too did the workers of the world seek to remain or return to their tyrannical rulers even as they were set free.

The age of information had another important effect: the rise of intellectual property. Music, books, performances, systems and concepts could be protected and owned. Combined with opening of markets via the Internet, productive property was growing, and the burdens of bringing the fruits of such property to market were disappearing.

Employers, having already enslaved the body of their employees, were quick to also ensure they owned the minds of their slaves. Employment contracts included “Work for Hire” clauses that gave the employer rights to any ideas, systems, concepts or works that the employee developed. After a profitable idea was produced, the employer had every right to dispose of the employee and keep the productive property, or continue to pay the employee a regular wage while the employee’s property produced millions of dollars for his employer.

Why Microcapitalism?

Consider a meadow, with a single tree and millions of blades of grass. Science tells us that grass is the most important plant on earth for animal life, including humans, on Earth. But the tree competes with the grass for its nourishment – it requires the nutrients and water in the soil the grass also needs. It also requires the sun’s light, as does the grass. However, when full of leaves, the tree blocks the light from the grass. If water or nutrients are scarce, the tree monopolizes the precious resources, and the grass withers.
While size and type are factors, a single tree produces enough oxygen for two people a year. The same oxygen output can be produced by a patch of grass that is 36 feet long and 36 feet wide.

If we only consider the oxygen output, which system is better able to withstand failure? Would you rather be a leaf on the tree, or a leaf of grass? A leaf on the tree requires the trunk to nourish it. The leaf, in turn, produces food for the tree. If the leaf is plucked off, the leaf dies and the tree survives. If the tree dies, all the leaves die. If the tree cuts off nourishment to a particular branch, all the leaves on that branch die. The leaf is at the mercy of whatever happens to the tree.

A leaf of grass, however, is more closely connected to the network of roots. It lives or dies by the circumstances that directly affect it, not some other part of the plant. And there are many of them; the death of even a patch of grass does not have such catastrophic consequences as the death of a tree for the local ecosystem.

While the allegory cannot be perfect, it illustrates the difference between the two systems. Capitalism, unchecked, creates big businesses with thousands of employees, like the tree and its leaves. Microcapitalism, comprised of a more independent
workforce distributed over many smaller businesses, has the resilient qualities of the grass.

Instead of workers having to fit a mold to become a part of a corporate machine, Microcapitalism works on the principle that people can produce and bring their products and services directly to the world marketplace on their own, or through much smaller enterprises.

Practical differences between Microcapitalism and Capitalism

Too much capitalism does not mean too many capitalists, but too few capitalists.
-G.K. Chesterton, The Uses of Diversity, 1921

As Capitalism and Microcapitalism share a root in natural law and history, they are similar in their practical existence. The goal of Microcapitalism is not equality of property. Equality of capital is neither possible nor just. Nor can a Microcapitalist society find every citizen working for their own business. Some businesses will require large numbers of workers to function.

What can be changed is the way workers are employed. Employees must be seen as partners, not associates or underlings. The lowest raking employee is often the one whose work produces the most income for the company. Therefore, each should receive compensation proportionate to their capital contribution.

The practice of including “Work for Hire” clauses, in which the company automatically owns any intellectual property created by the employee, ought to be replaced with clauses granting the company first rights to an exclusive license of the employee’s property. When the employer/employee relationship is terminated, the terms of further license, or even outright sale are negotiated. Otherwise, the employee retains the rights to the fruits of their labor and the employer loses the right to use them.

Consider again Ayn Rand’s story of Atlas Shrugged. Henry Rearden, an ambitious capitalist and owner of a steel company, had invested his own time and money into a new kind of metal. Pressure was put on him to share his idea with the world and his competition, which Rand condemns.

But what if Rearden didn’t own the company? What if he was a foreman, or another worker at the company, who put in the time to invent the new metal? His labor, his capital would instantly become the property of the company – and they were under no obligation to promote him, compensate him, or even retain him after that. In the best world, he would be rewarded, but Capitalism has no grounds to condemn such robbery. Many of us know of at least one instance where such a crime was committed. Thomas Edison did the very thing to Nikola Tesla, failing to deliver a promised bonus, or even a raise, in return for innovations from his brilliant assistant.

To turn a phrase of Karl Marx’s: From each according to their ability, to each according to their production.

There are already a number of methods companies can employ to justly compensate their staff. Paying by the rate of production, also called piece-rate, consists in paying each employee for the percentage of the total job they do. The company could be established as a cooperative, in which every employee receives a percentage of the profits the company earns. Not as options on stock in the company, but an actually cut of the earnings in excess of expenses. Companies can also give or sell the tools of the job to the employee; if the employee is terminated he takes the tools with him to start a new venture. His labor paid for the tools, they ought to belong to him by right. Finally, each employee can be an independent contractor of the company instead of an employee.

We cannot define Microcapitalist businesses in terms of revenue, number of employees or size. Whether or not employees are directly compensated for the value of their capital is the test.

Small business and self-employment are encouraged over working for a larger organization. We have the means, now more than ever, for a single worker to sell his labor, or create, produce, market and deliver his products without entering into an employment agreement with a larger entity.

There are some institutions that thrive in unrestricted capitalism that will suffer under Microcapitalism. Merchants, such as retail stores, will have their role in society greatly reduced as producers reconnect with customers via the marketplace. The role of a manager will also be redundant. As businesses shrink, employees are given back the self-interest and fruits of their work – multiple levels of localized management staff will no longer be needed.

When workers unite, they shall not unify under an organization that will represent them as a whole, govern their demands, and in all ways form a small socialist community, as the unions have. Rather, each man will be seen as an independent practitioner of his trade within the organization. They shall be self-regulating, self-limiting, and overseen by those who have mastered the trade and earned mutual respect for having set an example of excellence. In this way, workers will form Guilds rather than Unions.

A union unites all men against a company for better wages; a Guild keeps scoundrels out of its organization so that the members’ reputation will be renown, and thus more desirable to clients. Being a member of a Guild shows competency, being part of a union shows you were only present to join a mob.

The medical profession is an example of a Guild in a modern form. Doctors are engaged in limited competition with each other, and they run their own practices, in most cases. They have the ability to inform, decide, and act as a body through their independent organizations which are self-regulating and managed by practitioners of their craft.

What are our Obstacles?

When success is equated with excess
The ambition for excess wrecks us…
As the heart and soul breathe in the company goals
Where success is equated with excess
-Switchfoot, American Dream, 2006

The obstacles to Microcapitalism have more to do with attitude than anything else. They exist in the mind of each person, and are not embodied in the nebulous society or government as a whole. As attitudes and misconceptions, they can be changed, but only through individual decisions to correct them.

Self-interest and profit motive are not the same thing. In a Capitalist society, the terms profit motive and self-interest are used synonymously. However, to act in one’s own interest does not necessarily mean that making the most money, or exceeding your expenditures by the largest possible margin is your goal. Profit motive is a Capitalist term; self-interest is a Microcapitalist term.

Money is a tool of exchange, not real productive property. As it was stated earlier, money is the most versatile and yet worthless form of capital. It only represents capital. It can be traded for productive property, however it can also be squandered on luxuries, or lose value over time. It cannot be eaten, it cannot be worn or shelter you, or meet any human need on its own. On its own, it loses value, unless gambled in games of chance or in a financial market.

Wealth is determined by the amount of productive property you control, not the amount of money you have. Too often one’s wealth is considered by the amount of money owned, or the lifestyle (meaning luxuries) one can afford. However, it is possible to live in a large house, have 2 cars in your garage, a swimming pool, and a yacht and not own any of it. Worse yet, it is possible to have all of that and not own any productive property, even productive skills or knowledge, that will continue to provide for your welfare.

So long as a person can provide food, clothing, and a place to live by his own labor or the exchange of the fruits of his labor, they are not poor, regardless of how little money they earn. If money is not the definition of wealth, neither can it define poverty. If you did not have to make a payment on your car, on your house, on your education, how much income would you need to live? If you only made that much money, would you be poor?

A “good job” is not one where you serve at the whim of an employer in exchange for a wage for showing up. Educators and parents bring up children to get good grades in school, to get into a good college, where getting good grades gets you a good job. A good job means a steady, high-paying job. Not a rewarding job, not a difficult job, not a challenging or productive job. A job which anyone with similar training can do. A job where, if you don’t fit in, you can be terminated for no reason whatsoever. A job where you can lose your livelihood because the company can’t afford to pay you what they agreed to when they hired you.

That’s not exactly a good goal in life, much less a good job.

A job in which one simply shows up and receives a regular wage for their time from an employer is just as much on welfare as a person who receives welfare payments from the state. Everyone knows at least one person who does the absolute minimum to keep their job. Unionized workers and government employees in particular have safeguards preventing their termination, and some employees take advantage of the situation by riding out the clock. They show up, they get paid. Why do more?

The question is, why not do less? In a welfare state you get paid to be home and not work.

Big businesses that employ lots of employees are not necessary to a national economy. A strong case could be made that they are in fact a liability. The presence of steady jobs with benefits skews public attitudes toward finding such employment. Education is geared towards filling such jobs instead of teaching practical life skills. In the end, the government finds it necessary to prop up failing businesses because it knows its citizens have been institutionalized too long, and are unable to produce their own necessities, or trade for them with the fruits of their own independent labor.

What do we do from here?

Those who cannot fathom a way in which Microcapitalism can be brought about without government involvement have become too dependent on the government effecting change in their lives. Individual decisions and actions, coordinated by a common vision, is the only way to make the necessary changes without further increasing the power of government.

Microcapitalism cannot be legislated. Microcapitalism is limited Capitalism; but it must be limited by the people directly, not the state. The change must start at the bottom, it must be done by each of us making small changes.

Those in government can do little else than get out of the way of small business. Policies such as minimum taxes for business harm small entities far more than they do larger enterprises. Unemployment benefits are structured to help an unemployed worker find another job, but can get in the way of the same worker trying to start his own business and create new jobs. Other than eliminating some of the red tape involved in starting and running a small business, the government has little to do with a Microcapitalist revolution.

When government must step up to limit Capitalism, it must be as close to the people as possible. In other words, township, city, and county governments, not national governments, must enforce limitations on greedy abuses of property, such as monopolistic retailers or usurious predators as needed to protect their communities.

Most of the responsibility for limiting Capitalism rests on each and every individual.

Those who are employed should realize that, through no fault of their own, they can be let go, terminated, or laid off for no reason
whatsoever. Economic pressures or bad decisions by others in the company can cause the loss of a job. Planning for the termination of your employment should start the day you are hired.

An employee should be mindful not only of his duty as an employee to build capital for his employer, but to build personal capital at the same time. Learning new job skills, even from co-workers employed in different jobs, is an educational path accessible to almost any employee. Investing your wage in equipment, tools, and training outside the workplace builds personal capital, as does starting a hobby business in your spare time. While you have the temporary security of a job, you must be as ready to fire your boss at any time, just as they are prepared to let you go at any moment.

Investing your money in a bank is less secure than spending it on training or equipment that you can use to produce goods or services you can offer to others.

For those who are unemployed, finding employment quickly may be the primary concern, but even in their vulnerable state steps can be taken to secure personal capital. Time not spent looking for a job can be invested in developing a product or offering services that may blossom into the creation of a new line of work. Even without money to offer, skills can be learned from others, the internet, or books. When on job interviews, ask questions about the company, its procedures, its products and methods. You can learn a great deal about business by asking questions during the interview process. If a new job presents itself before you are self-sufficient, do not stop creating personal capital; remember how easily you can be cast back into unemployment by your new employer.

Companies should also consider paying and rewarding employees based on production, either by instituting a piece-rate compensation system or establishing a policy of dividing annual profits among the workers each year. Once companies begin establishing such policies, they will be more attractive to prospective workers than their completion. This change must be proposed to each employer by their employees before it will be considered.

Remember that every person is in business for themselves, and is a business in themselves – motivated by self interest, they sell their product or service to a client. It is important that they keep this in mind with every decision they make; basing a business on a single client, or selling a product through a single national retailer is a bad business practice for a company or an individual.

How each individual acts by spending money, choosing a career, and working should either reflect their life as a microcapitalist, master of their own labor and a small business owner, or that of a wage slave grinding for a handout.

Educational institutions must cease to be corporate training centers. The misconceptions identified earlier are reinforced, implicitly and explicitly, by today’s schools. Compliance and attendance are rewarded more than creativity and inquiry. As most of the world’s schools are currently controlled by governments, the most immediate path to change is for Microcapitalist parents to take direct control of their children’s futures by home education, or cooperative education conducted by a community of parents that want their children to be more than wage-slaves in a machine, until real educational reform takes root in the public intuitions.

Capital being produced and controlled by a multitude of individuals will erode the power of the big businesses. Like raindrops forming a flood, control can be broken by the unified commitment of the many against the few.

Boycotts of large businesses are ineffective as a strategy, especially where they have eliminated competition. The battle before us is not so much about where we spend our money, but how we earn it. If small businesses and individuals market directly to one another, if we invest our wages in real productive property for ourselves, then we shall break the banks and the superstore merchants who thrive on concentrated capital and a submissive workforce.

Microcapitalism cannot promise equality. It cannot promise that every citizen will be master of his own personal capital. But it can promise a more sustainable, secure future for the country that adopts it and encourages its people to be responsible for their own welfare.

The Spectre of Things Yet to Come

History has shown that when inequality of freedoms, property, and rights becomes too great, a redistribution eventually takes place. Often, the shift is violent, bloody, and unjust.

Even as this book is written the clouds of discontent are showing signs of a violent storm. It is not hard to see the anger turning to hatred in the future. Do not underestimate the cruelty of oppressed masses!

Just as Pharaoh was drowned in the Red Sea, so shall a banker be drowned in his own swimming pool. Just as the French rulers were beheaded, so shall bloody coups end civilized governments. Just as the abolition of slavery in the United States devastated the Southern economy, so shall new oppression rise in the violent wake of the next class war.

We have the tools, the means, and the ability to restore natural rights to productive property to all – peacefully and justly. If we fail to exercise them, if we hesitate to change, if we do not conduct the revolution peacefully now, the change will be forced upon us just as it was forced upon the great civilizations before us.

This is not the task for government. This is not a task for society, or for everyone. This is a task that must be undertaken by you.

We can change the world now, or pay in blood later.

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photo credit: TomHiggins

A few weeks ago when I brought up paganism, I made the remark that even Jesus Christ can be a pagan god. A recent study has confirmed that the idea is spreading among American teens.

Author Kenda Creasy Dean was featured in an article on CNN’s website about how youth in America are following a “moralistic therapeutic deism” instead of Christianity. This misdirected faith is the subject of her book, Almost Christian.

Dean took part in a study of some 3,300 American teens that found many of them thought God was like a therapist, who wanted them to feel good. Despite the fact that three quarters of American youth call themselves Christian, less than 50% practice the faith or think it is important.

It reminds me of the single good bit of satire in Kevin Smith’s movie Dogma: the “Buddy Christ.” A new statue of Jesus is revealed, pointing at passers-by and giving a thumbs up, with a “you’re ok” attitude. The statue has been reproduced a lot, and has become a cultural icon in its own right.

Jesus as a feel-good guru conflicts with the Jesus who said, “If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me,” told sinners to “sin no more” and insulted the self-righteous.

We elders and parents are not helping. The more the message is brought down to a lower level, abridged, made cool, or reduced to “glad texts” the more the pagan “buddy” Christ replaces the true Christ.

In Orthodoxy, G.K. Chesterton said that “Christianity even when watered down is hot enough to boil all modern society to rags. The mere minimum of the Church would be a deadly ultimatum to the world.” According to that perspective, we do not even now have a watered-down version of Christianity in our society. We are all in need of a turning back to the true Christ, the very definition of revolution.

Again, I find Dean’s solution good in theory: we must be more radical, and more open about our faith motivating us to do radical things. Instead of mission trips to Bolivia, as she suggested to CNN, there’s enough of a mess in our daily lives here in America to clan up. Sacrifice your career for your children, your neighbor. Speak out against injustice. Give charitably, especially when it hurts to do so. Be willing to lose everything for the true Christ, and our youth, as well as your peers and elders, will be less likely to fall for the feel-good sham version of Jesus.