The Sun.
London, England, 1861-09-11 00:00:00

STRIKES.

The paper upon strikes read by Mr. Watts at
the British Association is so able, so interesting,
and so conclusive that one begins to wonder there
should ever be any strikes at all. Even the few
strikes that have had a degree of success have been
a loss both to the workman as well as the em-
ployer, while the great majority of strikes have
been unsuccessful and ruinous. It is a matter of
demonstration, and Mr. Watts has put it so clearly
that a child can understand it, and can ask—as
many a child has done ere this—why " father"
has been so foolish. Why then are there such
things as strikes among our hardheaded working
men, especially in the astute region of the North,
under pulpits and platforms where reason rules
the day, and where the elements of all science
are taught with the AB C ? Unfortunately, the
same question may be asked with regard to many
other th;ngs besides strikes, where the argument
is all one way and the practice all the other.
The arguments against dram-drinking and smok-
ing, agaist improvident marriages and immoral
connexions, against quarreling and litigation,
against excessive love of appearances, and many
other things, are overwhelming, and may be
made very attractive reading, but unfortunately
they are little attended to. In all these cases there
is much besides reason in the question. In the
case of strikes, the stronger the argument against
them—and it cannot be stronger—the stronger also
the presumption of causes more powerful than rea-
son. In at least three cases out of four the artisan,
having been content with his wages, his master,
and his work, or satisfied within himself that his
master would not change his wages or his work
without good reason, and finding also invariably
that his wife and children were equally satisfied,
nevertheless obeys the dictation of some so-called
secretary, or committee, or delegate, and, with sor-
rowful heart, joins the strike. As it is part of this
world's dispensation that the few should rule the
many, and as there can be no general action at all
without heads and leaders, we must not object to
the domination of committees. But there is no
species of domination, no tyranny, no Continental
despotism, no barbaric rule, in which the many are
so helplessly, so ignominiously, so reluctantly
dragged, and starved, and led captive by the few,
as in a strike. This alone shows how little reason
has to do with the affair. Wherever the many will
be led by the few, it is vain to argue with the many ;
and the few perhaps have arguments of their own
that you can have nothing to do with,
But we will proceed on Mr. Watts's supposition
that in alm )st every.case an artisan does an utterly
absurd,ridiculous, and suicidal act by joining a strike.
The next thing is to ask why he does so. The inge-
nious essayist and Lord Monteagle, with a character-
istic confidence in the power of sound doctrine,
evidently think that much /nay be done by opening
the eyes of the artisan and enlarging his mind to
the folly of strikes. If he will only go by the rule
of three, the tables of interest at 5 per cent., and
other right rules of reason, be will see at once how
little he gains, or rather how much he loses, by
even a successful strike of five weeks for a shilling
a week more wages, when his memory must tell
him how shortlived all arrangements have been,
and how soon a bad time may close the mill in his
face. The case is so plain that it hardly wants a
teacher. As the artisan returns home, after declar-
ing himself on the strike, and takes his seat before
the hearth which he must soon stint of fuel, by the
table which will show gradually less genial fare'
amid furniture, and crockery, and linen, and good
clothes, which will find their way to the pawn-
broker, and children whom he must take away at
once from school, and soon see half starved and halt
naked, he must be able to work the figures of the
question quite as well as Mr. Watts. He must
know perfectly well that he is gsing to make a fool
of himself, or be made a fool of. He must know
that no advance will make up for the total loss of a
dozen weeks' wages, or even half a dozen ; that it
will do him no good to deprive his employer of
money or credit ; and that, if he succeeds in getting
an advance, it may only end in making his trade
wholly unprofitable, in gazetting his master, and
closing his mill. All this he knows, we will ven-
ture to say, as well as Mr. Watts can teach him,
though he may not be able to put together so many
interesting illustrations. Why, then, does he commit
the suicide? Why does he throw his wages down
the gutter Why is he, all of a sudden, so unna-.
tural a father, so bad a husband ? Why does be
rebel against reason and sin against knowledge?
The answer is that he feels a strong duty
and obligation to his own order and class, and
a consequent duty of obedience to its elected
leaders, while he has no such sense of duty and
attachment to his employer. The probability is
that he knows very little of the elected leaders,
except that he occasionally hears their strong voice
and confident tone at a public meeting. It is
equally probable that he knows even less of his
employer. Here, then, is the reply to Mr. Watts'
able argument and Archbishop Whately's admir-
able lessons on money matters. The moral and
social influence round the artisan almost compels
him to take part in the strike. He is naturally
gregarious. He is not accustomed to independence
of action or of forethought. Most probably he has
not much power of making his opinions known,
even if he has them, He hears on all sides the
rumours and threats of an intended strike. All at
once there is a strike. If he does not join it he is a
marked man. To all purposes of social happiness
he is a ruined man. He may think the strike ever
so foolish or wicked, but there is no help for it. He
cannot swim against the stream. All the reasoning
in the world is lost in such a case.

But this only goes to-show that the evil must be
taken in time. We take the liberty of assuming
that it is an evil, for we believe there is not a mingle