Tuesday, June 30, 2015

Morbid Modern Industrialism: G. K. Chesterton




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Title: The Everlasting Man
Author: G.K. Chesterton



....




But there is a deeper fallacy besides this obvious fact; that men need


not live for food merely because they cannot live without food The truth


is that the thing most present to the mind of man is not the economic


machinery necessary to his existence; but rather that existence itself;


the world which he sees when he wakes every morning and the nature of


his general position in it. There is something that is nearer to him


than livelihood, and that is life. For once that he remembers exactly


what work produces his wages and exactly what wages produce his meals,


he reflects ten times that it is a fine day or it is a queer world, or


wonders whether life is worth living, or wonders whether marriage is a


failure, or is pleased and puzzled with his own children, or remembers


his own youth, or in any such fashion vaguely reviews the mysterious lot


of man. This is true of the majority even of the wage-slaves of our


morbid modern industrialism, which by its hideousness and in-humanity


has really forced the economic issue to the front. It is immeasurably


more true of the multitude of peasants or hunters or fishers who make up


the real mass of mankind.


 
....
 


The human unity with which I deal here is not to be confounded with this


modern industrial monotony and herding, which is rather a congestion


than a communion. It is a thing to which human groups left to


themselves, and even human individuals left to themselves, have


everywhere tended by an instinct that may truly be called human. Like


all healthy human things, it has varied very much within the limits of a


general character; for that is characteristic of everything belonging to


that ancient land of liberty that lies before and around the servile


industrial town. Industrialism actually boasts that its products are all


of one pattern; that men in Jamaica or Japan can break the same seal and


drink the same bad whiskey, that a man at the North Pole and another at


the South might recognise the same optimistic level on the same dubious


tinned salmon. But wine, the gift of gods to men, can vary with every


valley and every vineyard, can turn into a hundred wines without any


wine once reminding us of whiskey; and cheeses can change from county to


county without forgetting the difference between chalk and cheese. When


I am speaking of this thing, therefore, I am speaking of something that


doubtless includes very wide differences; nevertheless I will here


maintain that it is one thing.

....

To read complete article, go to: http://gutenberg.net.au/ebooks01/0100311.txt

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