Man and Mission. Paul M. Gaston

       Henry George

      Put differently, George saw the single tax as the fundamental reform, the basic structural change, that would make possible the flowering of his philosophy. The philosophy itself went far beyond a change in tax policy. George’s understanding of the subtle relationship between competition and cooperation and his awareness of society’s increasing complexity kept him from simple doctrinal solutions. He opposed a heavy government hand on individual initiative, but he advocated new cooperative functions. Putting it bluntly in his 1883 book, Social Problems, George wrote that “either government must manage the railroads or the railroads must manage the government.” And he added: “all I have said of the railroad applies ... to the telegraph, the telephone, the supplying of cities with gas, water, heat and electricity,—in short to all businesses which are in their nature monopolies.” ⁴⁵

      Gaston was profoundly influenced by George’s writings, and in time George would become the chief intellectual force in his life. But, at this early stage of his development, Gaston did not view Progress and Poverty as an exclusive guide to reform. Though persuaded of the iniquity of land monopoly, he still was convinced that socialized production and distribution were required in the ideal community.

      Gaston’s socialist inclinations, nurtured by his reading of Looking Backward, may have been fortified by another book the group read that winter, Laurence Gronlund’s The Cooperative Commonwealth. Published in 1884, it never rivaled Looking Backward or Progress and Poverty in either influence or sales, but its Danish-born author believed he was the first writer to explain to an American audience the essentials of Marxian socialism. According to Gronlund, the Marxian road to socialism did not require class conflict. Instead, Gronlund described a scheme of evolutionary, peaceful development that led to a cooperative commonwealth in which the state would help “every individual to attain the highest development he or she has capacity for,” a state that would “lay a cover for every one at Nature’s table.” To lead the peaceful revolution, Gronlund called for the mobilization of “a vigorous . . . minority of intelligent and energetic American men and women,” mostly young people like Gaston and his associates in the Investigating Club. Bellamy believed that Gronlund would lodge too much power in the hands of the working class, complaining that “the germ of this coming order Mr. Gronlund professes to see in the trades union, while the nationalists see it in the nation.” ⁴⁶

      The eclectic reading habits of the Investigating Club members were typical of reformers of Gaston’s generation. Theirs was an age when heightened conscience, shocked and galvanized by the brutal realities of social change, was fortunately coupled with unusual flexibility—in ideas, in movements, and in social experiments. Ideas were in flux and ideological lines were constantly being tested and redrawn. Karl Marx, for example, was but one of many socialist writers; and, in fact, he had very little influence in America. Bellamy had never studied either Marx or German socialism when he wrote Looking Backward and, as the historian John Thomas puts it, he “snorted derisively” when his failure to discuss Marx was mentioned. The very word socialism, in fact, was a relative newcomer to the English language and still had uncertain meaning. Thus, intellectual excitement and hopes for change flourished because they were free of the blinding mental associations and reminders of failed doctrines that would later constrict social analysis.⁴⁷

      Dorothy Ross has written of the “transforming enthusiasm of the early eighties” when “evangelical, liberal, and socialist impulses converged on the desire for a more egalitarian and fraternal order.” Most of the young intellectuals who spoke of “socialism,” as Ross explains, understood it to mean “the principle of association or cooperation in economic and political life.” It was the opposite of individualism, which meant the pursuit of self interest, unrestrained by considerations for society as a whole. Definitions of socialism were varied enough to include “the voluntary efforts of workingmen to combine into cooperative industries as well as efforts of the state to control economic activity on behalf of all classes.” With such an elastic meaning, the banner of socialism was lifted by reformers all across the country.⁴⁸

      This helps us to understand why, as Daniel T. Rodgers explains, there could be a pronounced harmony of interest among reformers hawking all manner of apparently competing solutions. They were united in a common quest by “a vivid sense of exploitation,” as he puts it. One of Bellamy’s biographers describes the era as “a period of feeling about for a good social order,” a time when rival social reformers were more drawn together by their common outrage rather than separated by their differing social philosophies. Henry George’s biographer writes of the many threads of reform that were being woven into a common design. “The Henry George impulse,” Charles Barker explains, “interfiliated with other impulses. . . . Such a cross-connecting . . . was never more natural than during . . . the last quarter of the nineteenth century.” With deep faith in his own political economy, George himself deplored the union of disparate ideas. But with no such fixed intellectual anchor, Gaston and his associates read and learned from Bellamy, George, Gronlund, and others, drawing inspiration and insight from all of them, all the while choosing freely what suited them best.⁴⁹

      At some point the club members shifted the focus from ideas to action. What could be done? They had reached agreement about what was wrong, and they were getting closer to a vision of what a reconstructed nation might look like. They were clear about the need for a more caring, cooperative society, one that