The Iron Heel by Jack London Page A

interest that produces the class struggle.”
    â€œBut there should be no conflict of interest!” I cried.
    â€œI agree with you heartily,” he answered. “That is what we socialists are trying to bring about,—the abolition of the conflict of interest. Pardon me. Let me read an extract.” He took his book and turned back several pages. “Page one hundred and twenty-six: ‘The cycle of class struggles which began with the dissolution of rude, tribal communism and the rise of private property will end with the passing of private property in the means of social existence.’ ”
    â€œBut I disagree with you,” the Bishop interposed, his pale, ascetic face betraying by a faint glow the intensity of his feelings. “Your premise is wrong. There is no such thing as a conflict of interest between labor and capital—or, rather, there ought not to be.”
    â€œThank you,” Ernest said gravely. “By that last statement you have given me back my premise.”
    â€œBut why should there be a conflict?” the Bishop demanded warmly.
    Ernest shrugged his shoulders. “Because we are so made, I guess.”
    â€œBut we are not so made!” cried the other.
    â€œAre you discussing the ideal man?” Ernest asked, “—unselfish and godlike, and so few in numbers as to be practically non-existent, or are you discussing the common and ordinary average man?”
    â€œThe common and ordinary man,” was the answer.
    â€œWho is weak and fallible, prone to error?”
    Bishop Morehouse nodded.
    â€œAnd petty and selfish?”
    Again he nodded.
    â€œWatch out!” Ernest warned. “I said ‘selfish.’ ”
    â€œThe average man is selfish,” the Bishop affirmed valiantly.
    â€œWants all he can get?”
    â€œWants all he can get—true but deplorable.”
    â€œThen I’ve got you.” Ernest’s jaw snapped like a trap. “Let me show you. Here is a man who works on the street railways.”
    â€œHe couldn’t work if it weren’t for capital,” the Bishop interrupted.
    â€œTrue, and you will grant that capital would perish if there were no labor to earn the dividends.”
    The Bishop was silent.
    â€œWon’t you?” Ernest insisted.
    The Bishop nodded.
    â€œThen our statements cancel each other,” Ernest said in a matter-of-fact tone, “and we are where we were. Now to begin again. The workingmen on the street railway furnish the labor. The stockholders furnish the capital. By the joint effort of the workingmen and the capital, money is earned. 16 They divide between them this money that is earned. Capital’s share is called ‘dividends.’ Labor’s share is called ‘wages.’ ”
    â€œVery good,” the Bishop interposed. “And there is no reason that the division should not be amicable.”
    â€œYou have already forgotten what we had agreed upon,” Ernest replied. “We agreed that the average man is selfish. He is the man that is. You have gone up in the air and are arranging a division between the kind of men that ought to be but are not. But to return to the earth, the workingman, being selfish, wants all he can get in the division. The capitalist, being selfish, wants all he can get in the division. When there is only so much of the same thing, and when two men want all they can get of the same thing, there is a conflict of interest. This is the conflict of interest between labor and capital. And it is an irreconcilable conflict. As long as workingmen and capitalists exist, they will continue to quarrel over the division. If you were in San Francisco this afternoon, you’d have to walk. There isn’t a street car running.”
    â€œAnother strike?” 17 the Bishop queried with alarm.
    â€œYes, they’re quarrelling over the division of the earnings of the street railways.”
    Bishop Morehouse became