flstandardbreds Chapter 124 The Source of Poverty
Chapter 124 The Source of Poverty
“Hello, Mr. Carl Eckers, it is a pleasure to receive your letter. I am Red Ghost, the author of “On Workers, Labor and Society” published in the Liberty Times on March 2. The questions you raised are indeed thought-provoking, and I would like to offer some answers to them.”
In a three-story building in Port Hilla, a middle-aged man with a large beard cut open a letter with a paper cutter. In his room, books were piled up like mountains. He wore an old trench coat, and his three-piece suit was a little bulky. He wore a monocle, and a weathered hand reached for the knob of the magic lamp, the light dispelling the gloom.
He placed the paper under the lamp. The reply was written on a clean sheet of white paper, with a faint scent of lavender emanating from it, mixed with a hint of rust. The words that made up the content were beautiful and elegant, like a graceful dancing girl.
"Regarding your question, I would like to answer as follows: Yes, if we want to truly improve the lives of workers, we cannot pin our hopes on the benevolence of capitalists. Greed is human nature and the driving force of society. When society has developed to this stage, the only way is to violently destroy the old society and establish a new one. Society is either a society of the minority or a society of the majority, and this cannot be changed."
Carl Eckers nodded. His beautiful, graceful handwriting possessed a steely strength. He greedily read the article titled "Red Ghost," then summarized his thoughts. Amelansi was not a paradise on earth, at least not in his opinion.
Thick smoke from the factory obscured the sky and earth. The country's productivity had increased dramatically, but workers' wages hadn't risen much. The government had indeed enacted many laws to protect workers, but in practice, these laws weren't always implemented. Wages increased more and more as they moved outward from the center of Amelansi. He had heard that in the Republic of Britannia, which had almost become a special zone, factories didn't have a minimum wage or any worker protections.
Even the unions that were considered "almost useless" in Amerlane were completely absent in Brittany, leaving workers without protection and working day and night.
"The surplus value I mentioned can be found with a little examination: the value created by the workers is not entirely equal to their wages, and where has all the wealth gone? Just look at the increasingly bulging bellies of the factory owners and their employees."
Carl Eckers nodded—Indeed! That’s why factory owners get richer and richer while workers’ lives get worse and worse.
“There are two paths to take—through legislation to establish strong labor protection laws, which would provide workers with the same treatment without changing the system.”
"Or—arm the workers! Overthrow the old world! Build a new world!"
Karl Axe stood up and paced around the room. After a while, he began to write furiously: Red Ghost, Red Ghost, red is the color of blood. Blood comes from the workers, whether they are demons, humans, orcs, elves, or any other race. Blood is red. This red represents the blood of the laborers, the blood of the laborers who smashed the old world and created a new one!
Workers, an organization of workers united together, means syndicalism, and the ideology of workers uniting to smash the world is syndicalism!
Carl Eckers put on his coat, picked up his notebook and papers, and headed out the door—he needed to investigate the lives of the workers firsthand. What were their actual lives like? What were they really concerned about? He figured he wouldn't find the answers in newspapers or books.
"Red Phantom, Red Phantom....."
"Red Ghost~"
Different worlds, same dream, same path. From the start of the war until now, the Amerlane army has indeed successfully broken through several lines of Confederate defense, achieving almost the same operational effectiveness as Barbarossa. The Amerlane army is always advancing, with prisoners piling up from one end of the road to the other.
But it was obvious to everyone that Ekevich was consolidating his forces, preparing to launch a major attack on them in the capital and the Provence corridor. Alice simply ordered the troops to advance slowly, waiting for the supplies to be assembled before launching the offensive.
So Alice was able to free up her hands to publish an article in the newspaper under the name Red Ghost, which meant she received a reply from a reader—even though the letter was delivered by Raphis.
"It seems that even with such rapid social development, there are still people like this."
Alice smiled expectantly. If it weren't for the circumstances of the country, she would have preferred to take the plunge immediately, but the people needed a monarch, for the time being.
She could only strive for impartiality, but couldn't do more. She knew many private factory owners had set up factories in Brittany solely for the lower labor and management costs. Brittany, as a nominally independent republic, naturally had its own laws.
Alice couldn't bypass the council of Brittany, nor could she interfere, since everyone knew Brittany was the exclusive domain of Amerincia. Moreover, the people of Amerincia needed a mirror, a mirror that could see the beast of capital.
Brittany will become a mirror reflecting the true nature of Amelancy. It will show the people of Amelancy where workers and farmers will go if they shed the warm protective layer that Alice has placed for them.
If the environment weren't so harsh, who would want to rise up in rebellion? But if no one rises up, then a stable, perpetual, and eternal interest class will be born, and when technology develops to a certain point, it will become very difficult to fight against it.
Alice and her tablet lacked experience in modern struggles, and she could only hope that a struggle would break out in a modernized society.
Alice leaned back in her chair, thinking about all of this, but finally sighed—she remembered that cold Christmas night, a night, a boat, and a setting sun.
In the end, all she could do was sigh—she could only prepare herself and hope that it would never happen again.
"Captain Valery Sabrina, comrade."
"Yes, Comrade Committee Member."
"Let's talk, right here, right now."
Alice gestured for Raffis to clean up the surroundings, then opened her notebook.
No one knows what Alice and Sabrina talked about that night. The lights in Alice's tent were not turned off until late at night. For a long time after the war, historians did not record this event until that day.