* You Love State Socialism (You just don't know it) Tom Jennings 1:125/111 The essay below speaks for itself. It's not an exercise in¨ commie-bashing, in case you were wondering. Taken from a book of¨ essays written by Miklos Haraszti, a Hungarian dissident, it is¨ on the surface a harsh criticism of state socialism, told in¨ terms of western capitalism. (The manuscript for the book was smuggled out of Hungary, to be¨ published first in France as "L'artiste d'Etat" then as "The¨ Velvet Prison: Artists Under State Socialism" in the U.S. (Basic¨ Books Inc, New York).) * * * "Outside the capitalist corporation's walls there is still an¨ ideal free market where total freedom of opinion and speech, the¨ right to assembly, and the freedom to organize flourish. Everyone¨ goes his own way and can become a proud and independent artist,¨ free of censorship. But inside the company it is a different¨ story. There; the employee must reckon with a microcosm of¨ socialism. His human rights are severely circumscribed -- except¨ of course, his right to work. He cannot go outside the walls,¨ cannot wander at will around the factory, cannot say, write or¨ organize whatever he wants. In these matters, it is the firm's¨ interests, conveyed by its owners and managers, that determine¨ right from wrong within the corporate culture. The employee may¨ love his work, but he cannot do what he likes *unless* his ideas¨ have first been approved by his superiors. His skills have no¨ value in themselves; they exists to sustain the fiscal health of¨ the corporation. His relations with other members of the company¨ are not strictly private; they are defined by the hierarchy of¨ professional skills. If he does not live for his work, the¨ company will let him go. As long as there are other corporations¨ for whom he can work, he is all right, even if he is fired. He¨ could even, if he wishes, leave of his own accord! "How is this (admittedly simplified) state of affairs different¨ from state socialism? Only one aspect is truly different: the¨ existence of other companies. Under socialism it is the same¨ giant firm everywhere. "Suppose that the company for which you work buys and sells art.¨ The board of directors, faithful to the owner's wishes, seeks¨ free and independent art. Anyone can come in from the street. If¨ his art is marketable, the whole company will work for him; no¨ one will intervene in his business. If his artistic freedom is¨ curtailed, he can threaten to leave the company and look for¨ another, or he can choose to become self-employed. "Now consider the free artist who is asked by the company to¨ paint a portrait of the owner, or to create a sculpture that¨ symbolizes the company's ideals, or simply say something nice¨ about the firm on television. The money he is paid is not a part¨ of profits; it is renumeration for having complied with the ideas¨ of the firm's management. Creative freedom has undergone a subtle¨ change: the more successfully the artist has identified himself¨ and his ideas with the interests of management, the more creative¨ freedom he can retain. He has become a *directed artist*. He has¨ become a company artist. "How is this state of affairs different from socialism? Only to¨ the extent that, under capitalism, the artist is free to resign¨ and go to another company. On our part of the world artists can¨ only find employment with the artistic department of the national¨ company or with one if its branches. All artists are the firm's¨ employees, and their colleagues (the other employees in other¨ departments and branches) are their audience. "The distinction between directed and free artists, between¨ directed and free art, disappears at a stroke. The artists'¨ existential uncertainty is over. A steady paycheck is assured.¨ The rent will be paid, food on the table, and a roof overhead.¨ But artists' creative freedom is also over. Nevertheless they¨ have gained a great deal: by becoming state employees they are¨ given special attention. Their position is not competitive but¨ hierarchical: they gain a measure of control over the consumers¨ of their art in exchange for being controlled themselves by the¨ coordinating authority of the state. The company's neutrality in¨ the thorny question of aesthetics is over. "The ethics of state socialism resemble the ethics of a large¨ company. Its discipline and freedom are like those of the¨ company's workers. Further, if you will imagine the greatest¨ possible "industrial democracy" that such a concern might achieve¨ within the constraints of its corporate culture, you will have¨ arrived at an almost exact model of freedom in today's modern¨ socialist society. "Is it censorship that guarantees that the employees of Twentieth¨ Century Fox will create movies that serve the interests of the¨ entire company? Do relationships within the film studio require¨ censoring? Is the unavoidable process of creative compromise and¨ self-correction properly called censorship? Voluntary discipline,¨ identification, and devotion are essential elements in the¨ professional's acceptance of the company as his own/ Is this not¨ freedom? After all, didn't someone once observe that freedom is¨ simply the recognition of necessity? "It does not matter whether the answer is yes or no: we know what¨ this is all about. This form of censorship is far more effective¨ than a negative, externally imposed restriction of private¨ freedom. It is quite irresistible when it bathes the employees of¨ the socialist supermonopoly -- the nation -- in its amniotic¨ warmth. Don't forget: under socialism, there are no longer any¨ owners."