“What you say about the Military is rather interesting,” I replied, “for only a day or two ago I was trying to get Lickrod to tell me what the Government really is. I couldn’t make out whether he knew or not, but he certainly didn’t enlighten me much.”
“Of course it’s the Military Class,” said Johnson, with a laugh. “I thought everybody knew that. It’s a very open secret.”
“I have heard that theory put forward,” I said, “but I can’t quite make it square with the facts.”
“Why not?” asked Johnson.
“Well, if the Military are the supreme power, why should they have such an elaborate Bureaucracy and make such a parade of culture in every direction?” I said.
“Ah,” replied Johnson, “you must remember we are living in the twentieth century; in fact, you must remember all that this wonderful rascal of a Mechow taught his countrymen. The clumsy methods of the Military Autocracy of a barbarous age would not be of the slightest use in our times. Human society in modern times, even under an Autocracy, is tremendously complex. An elaborate Bureaucracy is a necessary part of the machine. Suppose, for instance, that you were an autocrat, and you wanted to be able to wield the whole force of the nation over which you ruled, how could you give effect to your will unless the whole nation were organised with that end in view? Suppose you had absolute power, as far as the law could give it you, and suppose you wanted a powerful army; you would want also the best equipment. How would you get it unless your industries were already organised and under control? There is no doubt at all that the nation that can control and mobilise all its resources for whatever purposes it happens to require them, has a great advantage, from the military standpoint, over other nations not so organised.”
“But,” I said, “they organise all sorts of things that have nothing to do with military efficiency. Look at the theatres, and at Art, and Music: their organisation of these is carried to an absurd point.”
“That is quite true, but did you ever know any big organisation that did just exactly what it ought to do, and stopped short of the things it ought not to do? Once set up a Bureaucracy and it will inevitably extend its functions. People are dirty, so the bureaucrat says, let us make them wash. Then, he says, let us make them keep their houses clean. Then, he says, let us make them keep their clothes tidy. He doesn’t like the way they walk, so he makes them march in step. You can see that there was a tremendous advantage in having a well-instructed middle class and a well-instructed working class. To secure this, a powerful department to organise and enforce education was necessary. Once the Bureaucracy was created there was hardly any limit to its functions. Besides, and this seems to me rather important, the more widely extended are the functions of the Bureaucracy, the more effectually is its main purpose disguised. The people are accustomed to being directed and ‘organised.’ They imagine, in a vague sort of way, that it is all for their good. Another little turn of the screw is not felt. If the State tells me what to eat, why shouldn’t it tell me what to wear, and what to read, and what to think?
“There is another reason why it ‘organises’ all this culture. In every nation some kind of intellectual life goes on. It must be either free or controlled. If it is let alone, the force of ideas is such that, in the long run, they will shape the political structure. The State, if it means to preserve itself as an Autocracy, must get control over the intellectual life of the nation. In ancient times it succeeded for a time. In the Middle Ages the Church tried the same thing. In modern times most States have not made the attempt, but this State has made the attempt. It has done no more than Plato would have done. It has done it rather differently perhaps, but it has followed the same idea.”
“They would feel rather flattered, don’t you think,” I said, “if you told them they were carrying out Plato’s principles?”
“Perhaps they would, but that only means they have learnt nothing from twenty centuries of political experience.”
“On the contrary, it looks as if they have learnt a good deal,” I said.
“They have learnt how to make a nation of slaves and tyrants.”
“And yet they don’t seem to mind being slaves, if they are slaves.”
“I wonder,” replied Johnson. “A hundred years in the life of a nation is not a long time. Human nature is a strange thing. They kiss the rod so affectionately that I don’t mind how long they remain in bondage: all I care about is that they should not make slaves of the rest of us.”
“Do you think there is any danger?” I asked.
“I do indeed,” replied Johnson. “A great danger.”
“Why, how could it be brought about?” I said.
“In all sorts of ways. Liberty is the most precarious possession of the human race. Very few nations have possessed it for long together.”
“But surely,” I said, “Meccania is so unpopular, to put it mildly, with almost all other nations, that her influence can hardly be dangerous.”
“Oh, but it is,” insisted Johnson. “The danger takes several forms. Meccania is tremendously strong as a military power. She knows it, and other nations know it. Suppose a great war took place, and she were successful; she would bring other nations under her power, as she has done in the past. These would soon be compelled to adopt her institutions. Then, in self-defence, other nations would feel themselves compelled to resort to the same means as have proved successful in her case, to make themselves strong too. To a certain degree that has already taken place. Lots of our military people now are always agitating to introduce what they call reforms, to place us on a level with Meccania. Then all sorts of cranks come over here: Sanitary Reformers, Eugenists, Town Planners, Educationists, Physical Culturists, Temperance Reformers, Scientific Industrialists, and so forth. Each of them finds some idea he wants to push. There are people who think that if they could only cure unemployment they would bring in the millennium, and they are willing to reconstruct society for the sole purpose of doing away with unemployment. And so we get disconnected bits of Bureaucracy set up, first for this and then for that. By and by some one will come along who will try to co-ordinate the whole thing.”
I had evidently set Mr. Johnson on to a train of thought that excited him, for he usually took things very calmly. After a short pause he went on: “And yet I don’t think the greatest danger comes from these would-be bureaucrats of ours. With us the bureaucrat only gets his chance when we have played the fool so badly that somebody has got to step in and set things right. For instance, we had what we called magistrates at one time. They were supposed to be the prominent citizens with common sense and initiative; but they became so incompetent, and the authorities chose them so foolishly, that they lost the public confidence; so we had to replace them partly by officials and partly by paid judges. Then look at our manufacturers; they hadn’t the sense to apply a reasonable proportion of their profits to developing their business on scientific lines, so the State had to step in and compel them to. They hadn’t the sense, either, to encourage their workpeople to become educated, nor even to pay them any more than they could help. Consequently the State had to step in again. No, what I am most afraid of is our disinclination to set things right ourselves. We can’t let mothers go on murdering their babies, we can’t let food dealers poison the public, we can’t let seducers of children traffic in obscenity; and as the public is apathetic about all these things the bureaucrat steps in and adds another Department to the fabric. What I am afraid of chiefly is that we shall get into a bad mess that