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VI
Competition
At the heart of how all individuals function, there is a dream of security: security from humiliation, penury, dependence, arbitrary dismissal and uncertainty.
At the heart of how a modern capitalist economy functions, there is a dream of competitive advantage: one based on the intelligent exploitation of invested capital, on the effective deployment of technology, raw material and labour to reduce costs and improve quality and the triumph over competitors so as to maximise shareholder return.
At certain points, these two longings – those of individuals and those of capitalism – seem inherently aligned. At other points, it can seem as if our own well-being has grown entirely irrelevant to the economic machine in which we are enmeshed. We generally don’t kick the machine; we are far more inclined to blame ourselves. There is, after all, always enough evidence of people who thrive and succeed to suggest to us that the fault must lie with something we have done. But in our more politically engaged moments, we may dare to complain that the system is not working ‘as it should’.
Ironically, at precisely such moments, it is probably working very well; it’s just that it was never intended to work in the way we would like – for our own well-being. Capitalism does not place the longings and aspirations of the labour force at the heart of its operations (the clue to its essential concerns lies in its name). It was not made to ensure that we have secure, good lives, plenty of time off and pleasant relationships with our families; it was made to maximise shareholder return. Labour has exactly the same status within capitalism as other production inputs, neither more nor less. Alongside rent, the price of fuel, plant, technology and taxes, labour (people) is just another cost. That it happens to be a ‘cost’ that cries, needs time off, has fragile nerves, sometimes catches the flu and in extremis commits suicide is – at most – a puzzling inconvenience. We should not believe that there is anything faulty about capitalism simply because we have minimal security of employment, little time to see our families, a lot of stress and an uncertain future. These belong to the very conditions that help the system to work well. Our mistake, which has imposed a heavy internal burden on us, has been to confuse our own ambitions for happiness with the goals of the overall economy.
We have innocently viewed a range of anxieties and fears as incidental and solvable, when they are in fact basic necessities for the correct functioning of enterprise. The first and largest of these is the fear of dismissal. A capitalist economy could not work well without it. It is a precondition of efficient business both that existing labour can be removed swiftly and cheaply and that there should be a ready supply of cooperative replacements. Unemployment is not a tragedy for business; it contributes to a willing pool of talent with low bargaining power.
Even the collapse and shuttering of whole firms is not to be lamented overall. Inefficient players who have failed to read market signals have to close, and their capital has to be deployed elsewhere. There is nothing less healthy for capitalism than an economy in which venerable firms, some perhaps very long established and with thousands of loyal workers within them, can’t regularly and cleanly go bust.
The relationship we form with a company may last as long as a marriage, and we may give it as much time and devotion as we would give to a partner. But this is a relationship that should, for capitalism to flourish, be close to abusive, because our ‘spouse’ must at any point be allowed, on the grounds that they could save themselves 3% a year, fire us and take up with a more cooperative and flexible rival in Vietnam or Bolivia.
We have taken care to construct a world where, in many areas, there is an extreme sensitivity to upset and distress. We have rigorous health and safety requirements to ensure that people don’t fall off ladders or strain their backs when moving heavy boxes. We make sure that words aren’t used to demean or prejudice minorities. Kindergartens present a moving picture of our care for the next generation. Yet in the core area of our work, we operate in a system that is – from an emotional point of view – nothing short of inhuman. But through more sober economic lenses, it isn’t anything as alarming: it is merely admirably competitive.
A second fear that prevails is that of not having done enough. We lie awake at night worrying about certain tasks we failed to perform. We cannot stop thinking about what certain competitors may be up to. We panic about the upcoming financial results. We don’t sleep very well any more.
This too makes sense. It used to be far tougher on capitalists. Regular breaks used to be mandated. Religion was responsible for many of them; it told people that they should down tools and honour something far more important than their work, like the majesty of the creator of the whole world. This glance upwards to the heavens relativised and calmed the workforce; it put things in perspective and lent a relieving sense that those packages in the warehouse could probably be sent next week after all. On a bad day, there might even be a sermon reminding people to treat workers like God’s children and to respect the holiness of every individual, however lowly.
In certain countries, labour organised itself and demanded that everyone in the company had to be given decent conditions and the odd holiday, or else the staff would walk out on strike. There were angry marches and some insane demands to restrict who could be fired and when.
There were some very frustrating limits to technology as well. There was the post, but it took an age. You might have to wait two weeks for a letter and there might be little to do in that time other than check up on the garden, go for long walks, read three Russian novels and talk to the children. Travel for work took an equal eternity. You might be sent to Hamburg by the firm, which could take four whole days, three of them at sea, some of them spent slowly eating kartoffelsalat and schnitzel, chatting to fellow passengers and staring out from the ship’s window at the wheat fields near Neuharlingersiel.
It has been a miracle and an unbounded relief for capitalism that this painful age has at last passed. Religion now seldom gets in the way. Its irritating, calming pieties have been replaced by far more robust and motivating narratives drawn from social Darwinism. The labour movement has been effectively pulverised by flattering ambitious workers into believing that they would gain far more by ditching their fellow Indians and aiming to become chiefs themselves. Technology has at last made it possible for the line between leisure and work to be erased. We’ve been able to give people phones to make sure they are findable at all times and incentivised them to regard these devices as t...
