THE MAN TO BE

Some of the wisest may know why it is that the end of a school term is called the “commencement.” Being a fool I admit that I do not know, and I don’t believe that even ordinarily wise folk know. But that has nothing to do with the case; the case being that at high school and college commencements there are usually many or few essays read by enlightened students.

I attended one of those ending commencements, and one of the wisdomized students read an essay on “Whither are We Drifting?”

After explaining that wonderful change which will take place in the next twenty years in all the sciences—that we will travel to Mars by airships and our food will consist of tablets, to save the stomach work—he came in his discourse to man himself. The population in the cities will increase an hundred-fold and we will become more specialized than ever before, was his theme. After the exercises luncheon was served to the elect, and there the merits of the different essays were discussed. They all agreed that the paper on “Whither are We Drifting?” was the most scientific. They called the young student a seer, and agreed that there can be no question that man will become more specialized than ever. Instead of eight men making a pair of shoes, as it now takes, in the future it will take forty; that in all the walks of life, in all vocations, things will be more divided and specialized.

“We are living in an age of specialization,” they said, “and surely we will not go backward; we will go forward.”

As usual the wise do not agree with me, but nevertheless, I am convinced that the coming man will be a consolidated man. Please observe the trend of man’s endeavor, and note the results. He started with the conception of things as a whole, and all things divine. He worshiped the sun, the moon, and the stars, the trees and the creative function, whether by symbol or in action—everything was God. That was the Golden Age of his joy. Then the wise men appeared and “analyzed God.” They really had no other claim to be wise than the discovery of good and evil and the work of separating them. The office of “wise man” maintains its pristine purpose with professional purity unto the present time. He began specializing—dividing things into parts. He specialized God and put him in heaven above; he specialized the devil and put him in hell below. But life revenged itself on the specializer, and in turn man, the specializer, became specialized. And now, when it seems that things are coming to their oneness once more, man too, will consolidate himself and become a complete man.

The wise, having analyzed the Universe, have cautioned the multitude against worshiping that which his priest disapproved. So it came to be that we “drifted” into specialization. We placed God in the “heavenly bodies,” and all the rest of creation were the world and the flesh, and these were of another God, the devil by name. The priest himself was the earliest to experience the revenge that time works to the meddling wise. The priestly function had been symmetrically composite. The priest was mentor, tutor, doctor, lawyer, judge, politician, philosopher, administrator, and executioner. The fine works of art were made and preserved by religious bodies. Gradually differentiation sheared one after another of these prerogatives from him, until there is little left him but his fantastic vestments, and even these are disappearing. We used to take our medicine and advice from the priests. Who now would stoop to do him such reverence? No one takes the priest seriously in these days. We pretend that we go to him to cure our souls, but we’d like to see ourselves permit him to monkey with our liver, sit on juries, purvey our diet, or obtrude his general boredom on us as of yore.

It is true that we have become specialized under the tutelage of our wisest, but the Man to Be will have other ideals, and he will scorn to be a part of a man.

Observe the distributing side of our commercial life. Formerly, when we went to market we found all kinds of commodities under one roof. The same man sold plows, pins, calico, bacon, hair-oil, tape, and what not? Then differentiation became the order of the day. We went to the hatter for our hats, and to the druggist for our pills, and to the butcher for our raw meat, and to the delicatessen shop for our cooked meats.

A man devoting his time to one article becomes perfect in his relation to his specialty. He learned everything about it with the result of better satisfaction, more value to the consumer, and more profit to himself. After it became perfect by specialization—when the function of specialization has brought the improvements required of it—consolidation takes its place. We have now what is called the department store. A specialistic consolidation. Although resembling the market of old, it is a forward step; it is the perfectness of the specialist with the advantage of co-operation.

In the shop the smith made knives, wagons; all things wrought in iron and steel were made there. The next step was to specialize and to perfect each thing. Fortunes were made in the manufacture of screws, bolts, and sundry “parts.” Each part has become perfect by specialization—consolidation is the result; the great machine shops now make all the material for their own consumption. The same is true in agriculture. Starting out with a general farm, with its many grains, fruits, and meats, the specializer comes with the stock farm, the dairy-farm, and truck-farm. Now consolidation takes place even there.

The man in mediæval times, when gods were in full swing, was a man who used his head, his hands, and his heart. He was a complete man. Then the specialist came. The schools and colleges have taken men’s heads; the church and the ethical societies have taken man’s heart; the factory has taken his hands; with the result that hell is full of headless and handless people, sent there by the theologians. The graveyards are crowded with heartless and handless students, sent there by the dry, economic philosophy of our professors. The earth has been paved with bones and bathed with the blood of the workingman, slaughtered by his own kind, because they have not used their heads nor their hearts. Others have done the thinking for them. The specialists have done their work—man has become perfect in each of his parts. I am looking for the consolidation of the perfect parts of man. I am looking for the restoration of head and heart to the brainless worker in the factory and he will become an intellectual giant. The theologian will also be a useful member in society when he uses his hands. To be a laborer will be the sole patent of nobility, and the pedant, the pedagogue, and the professor will pocket his pride, purge himself of his pretensions, and become a producer instead of a parasite.

Then we will be like children of one household, departing from the family roof in the morning. Some go to pick berries, others to catch fish, others to till the soil. Some in the workshops, some in the mines, with the freedom to work at what pleases us, and to change from one work to another if we choose. At eventide there will be a gathering of those who have each performed his allotted task—a union of the scattered tribes. And it is then, when all the various members come together once more in the joy of having rendered each a service to each, that the day is done. Any fool could read this lesson to the wisest, but so overawed have we fools allowed ourselves to become under the domineering masterfulness of the wise, that only rarely will the fool trust himself to “sass back.” I wonder if I am a rare fool?