down, waiting for the current mode of production to end in the intolerable disorder of its final consequences. Then the bourgeois and the peasants themselves will help us.’
Intrigued, Saccard gazed at him with a vague disquiet, although he thought him quite mad.
‘Well all right, tell me about it, what is this collectivism of yours?’
‘Collectivism is the transformation of private capital, living by the strife of competition, into a unitary social capital, created by the work of all… Imagine a society in which the instruments of production are the property of all, in which everyone works according to his intelligence and strength and the products of this social co-operation are distributed to each and all, in proportion to their effort. Surely nothing could be simpler? Communal production in the factories, yards, and workshops of the nation; then an exchange, a payment in kind. If there is a surplus of production it’s placed in public warehouses, from where it can be recovered to make good any shortages that may occur. It’s a matter of striking a balance… And all this, like the stroke of an axe, fells the rotten tree. No more competition, no more private capital, so no more business of any kind, no commerce, no markets, no stock exchanges. The idea of profit no longer has any meaning. The sources of speculation, unearned incomes, simply are no more.’
‘Oh! Oh!’ Saccard interrupted, ‘that would make a terrific change in the way of life of a lot of people! But what about those who live on private incomes now? Gundermann, for instance, would you take away his billion?’
‘Not at all; we are not thieves. We would buy back his billion, his shares, his income bonds, with a set of vouchers divided into annuities. And just imagine that immense capital replaced in this way by a suffocating wealth of consumer vouchers: in less than a hundred years the descendants of that Gundermann of yours would be reduced to personal labour, like all the other citizens, for the annuities would eventually run out and they would not have been able to turn their forced savings, the excess of that crushing surplus of provisions, into capital, even if the right of inheritance were retained… I tell you, this sweeps away at a stroke not only individual businesses, companies of shareholders, and associations of private capital but all the indirect sources of income, all the credit systems, loans, rents, and tenant farming… There would no longer be any measure of value other than labour. Wages are of course abolished, for in the present capitalist system they are not equivalent to the actual product of labour, since they never represent anything more than what is strictly necessaryfor the worker’s daily livelihood. And it must be admitted that it’s the present system that is alone to blame, for even the most honest employer has to follow the harsh law of competition and exploit his workers if he wants to make a living. Our whole social system has to be destroyed… Oh! Gundermann choking under the weight of his vouchers! And Gundermann’s heirs not managing to use it all up, forced to give to others and take up the pickaxe or the workman’s tools, just like their comrades!’
And Sigismond burst out laughing, like a child in a playground, but still standing at the window with his eyes on the Bourse, where the black ant-hill of speculation still swarmed. Burning patches of red appeared on his cheeks; imagining the amusing ironies of the justice of the future was his one entertainment.
Saccard had grown more and more uneasy. What if this dreamer was right after all? What if he had correctly divined the future? He explained things in a way that seemed very clear and sensible.
‘Bah!’ he muttered to reassure himself. ‘All this is not going to happen next year!’
‘Of course not,’ the young man went on, once more solemn and weary. ‘We’re in the time of transition, the time of agitation. Perhaps there will be
Intrigued, Saccard gazed at him with a vague disquiet, although he thought him quite mad.
‘Well all right, tell me about it, what is this collectivism of yours?’
‘Collectivism is the transformation of private capital, living by the strife of competition, into a unitary social capital, created by the work of all… Imagine a society in which the instruments of production are the property of all, in which everyone works according to his intelligence and strength and the products of this social co-operation are distributed to each and all, in proportion to their effort. Surely nothing could be simpler? Communal production in the factories, yards, and workshops of the nation; then an exchange, a payment in kind. If there is a surplus of production it’s placed in public warehouses, from where it can be recovered to make good any shortages that may occur. It’s a matter of striking a balance… And all this, like the stroke of an axe, fells the rotten tree. No more competition, no more private capital, so no more business of any kind, no commerce, no markets, no stock exchanges. The idea of profit no longer has any meaning. The sources of speculation, unearned incomes, simply are no more.’
‘Oh! Oh!’ Saccard interrupted, ‘that would make a terrific change in the way of life of a lot of people! But what about those who live on private incomes now? Gundermann, for instance, would you take away his billion?’
‘Not at all; we are not thieves. We would buy back his billion, his shares, his income bonds, with a set of vouchers divided into annuities. And just imagine that immense capital replaced in this way by a suffocating wealth of consumer vouchers: in less than a hundred years the descendants of that Gundermann of yours would be reduced to personal labour, like all the other citizens, for the annuities would eventually run out and they would not have been able to turn their forced savings, the excess of that crushing surplus of provisions, into capital, even if the right of inheritance were retained… I tell you, this sweeps away at a stroke not only individual businesses, companies of shareholders, and associations of private capital but all the indirect sources of income, all the credit systems, loans, rents, and tenant farming… There would no longer be any measure of value other than labour. Wages are of course abolished, for in the present capitalist system they are not equivalent to the actual product of labour, since they never represent anything more than what is strictly necessaryfor the worker’s daily livelihood. And it must be admitted that it’s the present system that is alone to blame, for even the most honest employer has to follow the harsh law of competition and exploit his workers if he wants to make a living. Our whole social system has to be destroyed… Oh! Gundermann choking under the weight of his vouchers! And Gundermann’s heirs not managing to use it all up, forced to give to others and take up the pickaxe or the workman’s tools, just like their comrades!’
And Sigismond burst out laughing, like a child in a playground, but still standing at the window with his eyes on the Bourse, where the black ant-hill of speculation still swarmed. Burning patches of red appeared on his cheeks; imagining the amusing ironies of the justice of the future was his one entertainment.
Saccard had grown more and more uneasy. What if this dreamer was right after all? What if he had correctly divined the future? He explained things in a way that seemed very clear and sensible.
‘Bah!’ he muttered to reassure himself. ‘All this is not going to happen next year!’
‘Of course not,’ the young man went on, once more solemn and weary. ‘We’re in the time of transition, the time of agitation. Perhaps there will be
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