How Ought Wealth to Be Distributed

WHY there should be hard-working poor men and idle rich men in the same community is a question which no one has answered, and no one can answer, satisfactorily. That is why the opinion is so prevalent that the world, economically considered, is so very much out of joint. But, although there is so much unanimity in the opinion that wealth ought not to be distributed as it now is, there is still a wide diversity of opinion, where there is any definite opinion at all, as to how it really ought to be distributed.

These opinions may, however, be reduced to three fundamentally distinct theories, which I shall call the aristocratic, the socialistic, and the democratic, or liberalistic, theories. The aristocratic theory is that the good things of the world belong more particularly to certain groups or classes than to others, by virtue of some circumstance connected with their birth or heredity, and independently of their individual achievements. The socialistic theory is that wealth ought to be distributed according to needs, or according to some similar plan arranged beforehand, and independently of the individual’s ability to acquire wealth in the roughand-ready struggle of life. The democratic, or liberalistic, theory is that wealth ought to be distributed according to productivity, usefulness, or worth.

I

Though no one definitely affirms the aristocratic theory, there are many who tacitly assume it, and show by their general attitude that they accept it, in one form or another. Moreover, this theory has always been embodied in the polity of nations, either singly or in combination with one of the others. Its variations range all the way from the caste systems of the Old World, with their hereditary titles and laws of primogeniture, up to the idea, somewhat prevalent even in America, that the world belongs to the white man. The land laws of Moses, under which the land returned at every jubilee to the heirs of the original owners, were aristocratic rather than democratic, because they assumed that these had a right superior to all others. In this country, for example, such a system would have created a landed aristocracy of the most exclusive kind, because no immigrant, nor the heir of any immigrant, could ever have become a real landowner. The Spartan Commonwealth, sometimes regarded as a socialistic community, was in reality extremely aristocratic. It was a kind of military camp, maintained by a small group of conquerors ruling over a large subject population. Even in the most democratic countries of the present, a remnant of the aristocratic theory is found in the form of hereditary rights to property. This is aristocratic rather than democratic, in that it assumes that one person, by accident of birth rather than individual achievement, has a better right than another to the accumulations of the past.

As with all political and social theories, the justification or condemnation of the aristocratic theory of distribution must depend upon its results, viewed in the light of the circumstances of time and place. There are reasons for believing that this theory, as practiced in the early stages of civilization, was a powerful factor in promoting the first steps of social progress. Even the crudest case imaginable, that of the primitive despot, — the strong man who dominated his neighbors by the weight of his fist, and robbed them of their substance in the form of tribute, — even he may have been an unintentional and unmeritorious agent of progress. All the higher forms of aristocracy are fundamentally like this primitive despotism, though sometimes religious fear, or a superstitious belief in some form of divine right, is combined with bodily fear as a means of class subjugation. Odious as all such things seem in the light of our present civilization, they seem to have been factors in the development of certain types of civilization, which are, doubtless, better than no civilization at all. One or two familiar principles will help to make this clear.

It is a well-known fact, for example, that grass tends to grow as thick as the conditions of soil, heat, moisture, and the presence of enemies will permit. Nature seems everywhere intent on preserving some such balance or equilibrium as this, for the same rule applies to all forms of life, including the human species. “Nature,” wrote Malthus, “has scattered the seeds of life abroad with the most lavish hand. She has been comparatively sparing of the means of subsistence.” With the human species, at least in its lower stages of development, as well as with other forms of life, nature aims to preserve an equilibrium between population and subsistence, — between the demand for nutriment and the supply of it. This equilibrium may be stated in terms as follows: In the absence of disturbing causes, the population tends to become so dense as to require all its energy to procure subsistence enough to sustain that energy. When any community happens to possess energy enough to procure more subsistence than is necessary to sustain that energy, it may not inaccurately be said to possess surplus energy. But nature tends to dissipate any such surplus, partly by indolence and lavish consumption, and finally by rapid multiplication of numbers. Whenever any branch of the human race has achieved something more than its own maintenance, that achievement may be called a storing of surplus energy, for no such achievement is possible except where nature’s process of dissipation is arrested, — that is, where human energy can be turned to other purposes than its own sustenance.

In a perfectly natural state, and in the absence of some means of arresting the dissipation of surplus energy, the life-history of human beings, like that of other forms of life, would be summed up in the words: They were born to breed and die, generation after generation, in endless and unprofitable repetition. For the vast majority of the human beings who have peopled this planet, that is all that can be said for or about them. But in a few scattered instances, sections of the race have achieved something more, — have left something as a mark of their having lived. It may have been nothing more than a few monumental tombs, or a few rude altars to their unknown gods; they may have been magnificent temples and royal palaces; or, higher still, systems of religious philosophy, national literatures, or even bodies of scientific knowledge. The explanation of these results can never be complete until it accounts for the fact that the universal dissipation of energy was by some means arrested, that something was saved from the vital processes in order that human energy might be stored in these products of civilization.

One of the most effective, and probably the earliest, of the many agencies for the accomplishment of this result was the despot. When that primitive bully subjugated his neighbors, and demanded a share of their produce as tribute, he simply reduced the amount of subsistence left for them. If they could not live on what was left, nature had a way of restoring the equilibrium by thinning them out. But the despot himself would have a surplus. The chances were that he would waste this surplus in riotous living, thus himself becoming an agent of dissipation. But in a few cases the whim seized him to build for himself a tomb, a temple, or a palace, to maintain priests to save his soul, musicians to sing his praises, or artists to represent him in heroic attitudes. In such cases, through the agency of the despot, the race had done something more than provide for the primary appetites of hunger, thirst, and sex. This is, in essence, the beginning of every ancient civilization. Sometimes it was a priestly class preying upon the fears of the people, sometimes a race of despots ruling over a race of slaves, sometimes all these combined. Without these agencies of exploitation it is highly probable that the mass of the people would have continued living as they had always lived, like the insects of an hour, only to breed and die.

Odious as despotism is, it was probably justified by some of these early results. The grandeur of ancient Egypt was the result of the exploitation of the masses, whose energy would otherwise, in all human probability, have been dissipated in the manner common to all life. The religious philosophy of the Hebrews could hardly have been developed in the absence of a priestly class supported by tithes. The brilliant civilization of Greece was based on slavery, and the magnificence of Rome upon the exploitation of conquered peoples. Possibly none of these were worth what they cost. The cost was despotism, but the results, whatever their cost, were achieved. As between these results and that primitive communism, under which wealth is dissipated, and life kept down at a low level, because it is all at the mercy of the most gluttonous consumers and the most rapid breeders, we should probably all prefer the former. Unattractive as is despotism, it is not so unattractive as a community living a profitless round of animal existence for the sole apparent purpose of reproducing their kind. It was doubtless this aspect of human life which led Thomas Carlyle to his conclusion that the real benefactor of the race is not necessarily the man who frees his fellows from oppression, but the man who masters them (by the power of his own personality, to be sure, and not by hereditary titles and sham prestige), and makes them do what they ought to do.

Vastly more important, however, than the building of magnificent tombs, temples, and palaces, or the development of esoteric philosophies and literatures, is the development of a high standard of living among all the people. This, from the nature of the case, no form of oppression or class domination can possibly do. When civilization is based upon oppression, it is necessarily a civilization in which the few are lifted on the backs of the many into a high plane of living. This is doubtless better than no civilization at all, but it is far from ideal. The social problem of the future is to work out a system under which all the people may live on a high level, without constraint or oppression, each one remaining the master of himself. It is needless to point out that such a result has never yet been achieved, or even remotely approximated, and that it furnishes a prospect so pleasing that even socialism looks like a pitiful makeshift in comparison.

The effort to maintain a standard above the minimum of subsistence has led to a number of interesting expedients, some of them purporting to be democratic, but all of them departing from the democratic principle. Especially significant is a custom which is said to have prevailed among the Teutonic villages, namely, the enforced migration of chosen bodies of youth. These youth, selected by lot and sent out into the world to make a place for themselves, or perish in the attempt, were thus sacrificed in order that the remaining population might maintain a standard of living. It was an expedient a little more humane than the still more primitive one of infanticide, and it accomplished the same purpose. Primogeniture is still more humane, but no more just or democratic. Under this system the younger sons, and all the daughters, are placed in the position of the chosen youth of the Teutonic village; they must make their own way in the world in order that the eldest son may maintain the standard of the family. In the absence of expedients of this kind, all of which are essentially inequitable, the so-called French custom of limiting offspring seems to be the only practicable one for maintaining a standard of living, and it is probably the most civilized of them all.

In the same class with the enforced swarming of the Teutonic village, and the system of primogeniture, belongs the trade union expedient of the closed shop. It is neither more fair nor just than any of the others, but it aims to accomplish the same result. Limiting employment to union men, and resorting to the primitive law of the bludgeon to enforce their demands, they may succeed in maintaining a standard in certain chosen occupations. But it is at the expense of the nonunion man, who is, like the migrating Teutonic youth, and the younger sons of the English nobility, sacrificed in the interest of a standard which others enjoy.

In this connection appears the only rational basis for the doctrine of the minimum wage. It sounds well to say that no laborer ought to receive less than six hundred dollars a year. Certainly that sum is none too large. But this does not explain what is to be done with those whose services are not worth six hundred dollars a year. Enforced colonization, the multiplication of almshouses, or the liberal administration of chloroform, might be necessary in order to dispose of a considerable fraction of our population, in order that the remainder might earn the minimum wage. Though it is evident that modern society will adopt none of these heroic measures, yet it is interesting to speculate, academically, upon the results of the principle of the minimum wage if it were strictly enforced. In the first place, it is apparent that such a policy would tend to weed out the least competent members of the community, so that, in the course of time, there would be none left who could not earn at least the minimum wage. In the second place, after this was accomplished, the community would be superior to the present one, because it would be peopled by a superior class of individuals, and the general quality of the population would not be deteriorated by the human dregs which now form the so-called submerged element. Nevertheless, it would be inherently inequitable, because it would sacrifice one part of the community in the interest of another, though it might not be more inequitable than nature herself, who ruthlessly sacrifices the weak in favor of the strong.

II

“From every one according to his ability, to every one according to his needs,” is a formula which fairly well summarizes the socialistic theory of distribution. As an ideal this has at least two distinct merits. First, if we could get every one to produce according to his ability, there would be the maximum of wealth produced. Second, any given amount of wealth would yield the maximum amount of satisfaction to the community if it could be distributed in proportion to needs. If, for example, A has so many apples that any one of them is a matter of trifling concern to him, while B is hungry for apples, the existing supply of apples in the hands of this community of two would yield the maximum amount of satisfaction if A would divide with B in such proportion that their wants might be equally well satisfied. The socialistic formula is, therefore, a perfectly sound one, in so far as it relates to individual obligation. Each individual ought to produce according to his ability, for production is service, and we are all under obligation to serve the community to the extent of our ability. Again, he ought to consume only according to his needs,for, if he consumes more,he fails to promote, in the highest degree within his power, the welfare of his community. If A, in the foregoing illustration, should gluttonously devour all his apples, he would prevent the attainment of the highest well-being of that community of two.

But it is one thing to say that the individual ought to do thus and so, and quite another thing to say that the state ought to make him do it. There are many things which the individual ought or ought not to do, which it would be futile for the state to try to regulate. Therefore, the duty of the state cannot be determined by simply finding out the duty of the individual. This does not mean that there are two kinds of ethics, or two grounds of obligation, one for the individual and the other for the state. There is only one ground of obligation, and that applies to the state as well as to the individual. If it is the duty of the individual to promote the general interest, it is equally the duty of the state; but in many cases the state would defeat this very purpose if it should undertake to force the individual to live up to this standard. What can the state do to promote the general interest ? The answer to this question is the answer to the question: What ought the state to do ?

Now the problem of distribution is essentially a problem of public regulation and control, and not a question of voluntary individual conduct. The question is not how much the individual ought to consume, but how much the state ought to allow him to have. These two questions are so distinct that it is amazing how persistently they are confused by the socalled Christian socialists. The socialistic theory of distribution according to needs is not a mere preachment, an appeal to the individual to regard himself as a steward entrusted with the care of a part of the world’s wealth; it is an appeal rather to the force of law; it proposes that men shall consume wealth according to their needs, not because they want to, but because the law allows it to them in that proportion.

Human wants are so largely the product of historical conditions that it would be next to impossible to compare real needs. We are, for example, accustomed to assuming that the needs of the business and professional classes are larger than those of the laboring classes; but nothing could be more untrustworthy than this assumption. The mere fact that the former have been accustomed to having more than the latter makes it seem necessary that they should continue to have more, but this seeming necessity would absolutely disappear in a single generation of equal distribution. Another assumption of the same kind is that education and culture increase one’s needs. The simple fact is that education and culture introduce one into a social class where consumption is more lavish because incomes are larger. If we could divest the question of such complications, we should probably find that the real needs of the cultured man are less than those of the uncultured. What does culture amount to, if it does not give one greater resources within himself, and make him less dependent upon artificial, and therefore expensive, means of gratification ?

Taken altogether, the proposal to distribute wealth according to needs would necessarily resolve itself into equality of distribution, on the assumption that needs are equal. This assumption, though obviously untrue, is much nearer the truth than any other workable assumption, — much nearer than to say, for example, that the needs of any one class are, in any definite proportion, greater than those of any other class, for the chances are exactly even that the proportion would have to be reversed. It would be quite as difficult to determine the relative needs of different individuals as it is to determine their relative length of life. Though it is extremely unlikely that two men, A and B, of the same age, class, and general health, will live the same number of years, it is much nearer the truth to assume that, than to assume that A will live longer than B, or B longer than A, by any definite period.

The only distinctions which could possibly be made would be certain obvious ones based on age, sex, and the like, and even these would be arbitrary and of uncertain value. Can we safely say that a child’s needs are less than an adult’s, or that a woman’s are less than a man’s ? The weight of the evidence is to the contrary, though under present conditions adults usually spend more on themselves than on their children, and men more than women, simply because they have the power. At any rate, the man who is cocksure on these points is not the man to whose fairness and sound judgment any of us would care to intrust a matter of such vital concern as the distribution of wealth.

Even more difficult than the determination of the relative needs of different individuals is the determination of their relative abilities. We seem forced to depend upon the individual himself to demonstrate his own ability, and there seems to be no better way of doing this than to give him an open field for the exercise of his talents, making the normal consequences of efficiency as agreeable, and of inefficiency as disagreeable, as possible to himself. He who will not do his best under these conditions could scarcely be made to do any better, except under the whip of a taskmaster.

In view of the utter futility of trying to determine by legal process either the relative needs or the relative abilities of different individuals, the formula, “From every one according to his ability, to every one according to his needs,” must be turned over to the preacher of righteousness, whose appeal is to the individual conscience, rather than to the legislator, whose appeal must be to legal sanctions. In strictness this formula ought to be modified to, “ Let every one produce according to his ability and consume according to his needs.” The individual whose moral development will lead him to respond to such an appeal can be reached as effectually under the present social system as under any other, while he who will not respond voluntarily could not be reached under any system. Those who, as a matter of individual conscience, respond to this appeal, furnish no problem in distributive justice for the legislator. But there is a class, large or small as the case may be, who need the stimulus of a prospective advantage to themselves to call forth their best efforts, who will do their best only when their rewards depend upon the value of their services. How to deal with this class is the problem in distributive justice for the legislator.

The belief that this class includes the vast majority of men at the present time by no means overlooks the fact that there is a great deal of altruism and public spirit in the world. These altruistic feelings can be depended upon only in relatively narrow circles, such as the family, the neighborhood, or the church, and, in times of exceptional national peril, in the larger circle of the nation. In ordinary times, and outside these narrow circles within which affection develops, the average man’s efforts are normally directed by the hope of some pretty definite advantage to himself.

Speaking of the family, it is sometimes regarded as a communistic group. In one sense that is the truth, and in another it is the opposite of the truth. Normally the family property and the family income are administered in the interest of all the members, without regard to their individual contributions. That looks like communism; but it is a voluntary communism, such as might exist in society at large, without any change of law, if every one would regard other members of society with that degree of affection with which he now regards the members of his own family, or if each one would regard himself as a steward entrusted with the management of a portion of the wealth of the world. The family is the opposite of communistic, in the sense that the family property is usually owned by one member. In reality, therefore, the family is not more truly communistic than the United States would be if all its wealth were owned by one man, a hereditary despot, or a plutocrat of unheard-of proportions. Were he possessed of a strong affection for all his people, the wealth would be administered in the interest of all, otherwise in his own interest.

This raises the exceedingly pertinent question, what difference does it make who owns the wealth, provided it is administered wisely and with broad public spirit ? There are other examples than the family, of an absolutely autocratic control of wealth, the very acme of concentration, which are yet so much like communism as to be easily mistaken for it. There could not possibly be a more acute case of congestion of wealth than Zion City, near Chicago, where all the productive wealth was until recently the property of one man, the notorious Dowie. Yet, according to all accounts, it was administered as though it were common property. The only answer to the above question, therefore, is that it makes no difference; but the proviso is too large to be safe. Under the extremest form of concentration, and under the widest diffusion of ownership, the average citizen would be equally well off, provided the wealth were equally well administered. It is quite the same with political authority; monarchy and democracy are equally good, provided they are equally well administered. But the world has learned that monarchy is not likely to be wisely administered, simply and solely because monarchs are seldom either wise or benevolent; and it is learning that plutocracy is unsafe for precisely the same reason. Though a wise and benevolent economic autocrat might administer the wealth of the nation as well as the people themselves could, the chances are very much against his doing anything of the kind. The chances are rather that he will spend it on himself and his family, which not only wastes the wealth, but, worse still, destroys the usefulness of his family. It is, therefore, quite as important that there should be a wide diffusion of wealth as that there should be a wide diffusion of political power.

Now there are two widely different notions as to what constitutes a wide diffusion of wealth. One is that the ownership of the productive wealth should be concentrated in the hands of the state, and administered by public officials, only the consumable goods being diffused. This is the socialistic ideal. The other is that the ownership of the productive wealth itself should be widely diffused. If this were the case, the consumable wealth also would of necessity be widely diffused. This is the democratic, or liberalistic, ideal. It is the belief of the liberal school that this system gives greater plasticity and adaptability to the industrial system than any other. Certain socialistic writers have, however, assumed that this ideal is unattainable, and that we are really between the devil of plutocracy and the deep sea of socialism. Let us not thus despair of the republic. Once upon a time a man placed a heavy load upon the back of his camel, and then asked the beast whether he preferred going up hill or down, to which the camel replied, “Is the level road across the plain closed?”

III

The democratic, or liberalistic, theory puts every one upon his merits. The worthless and the inefficient are mercilessly sacrificed, the efficient are proportionately rewarded. It frankly renounces, for the present, all hope of attaining equality of conditions, and confines itself to the problem of securing, as speedily as possible, equality of opportunity. In fact, under the rigid application of this theory there would be room for the greatest inequality of conditions, because some would be forced into poverty by their own incapacity, and others would achieve great wealth through their superior ability to produce wealth or to perform valuable services.

This phrase, “equality of opportunity, ” has been so persistently travestied that one hesitates to use it; but it is a good phrase. It simply means the free and equal chance for each and every one to employ whatever talents he may possess in serving the community and in seeking the reward of that service, and a correspondingly free and equal chance for every one else to accept or reject his service, according as they are satisfied or dissatisfied with its quality and its price. Though the lame, the halt, and the plethoric would have little chance of winning in a race where the prize was to the swift, yet there would be equality of opportunity if the race were open to all and without handicap. Similarly, the dull, the stupid, and the inefficient would have little chance of winning in economic competition, where the prizes are to the keen, the alert, and the efficient; yet there would be equality of opportunity, provided the field were open to all without organized discrimination or political favoritism. In other words, equality of opportunity does not mean that men are to be relieved of the results of inequality of ability. Nor does it mean, on the other hand, that men are to be left absolutely free and unrestrained in their pursuit of self-interest. If this were true, it would require that the burglar, the swindler, and the skinflint should be left free to ply their respective callings without legal interference. This principle only requires that such avenues to wealth as are deemed harmful should be closed to all alike.

Equality of opportunity means liberty, to be sure, but it means liberty in performing and seeking the rewards of service. The ideal of liberty is fully realized when every individual is absolutely free to pursue his own interest by any method which is in itself serviceable to society, and when he is absolutely debarred from pursuing it by any method which is in itself harmful to society. Therefore, to say that a certain man’s fortune is the result of his superior skill, shrewdness, or industry, is no justification at all, unless it be further shown that these faculties were usefully directed, that by their exercise the community has been made richer, and not poorer. If this condition is omitted, the highwayman, the counterfeiter, and the confidence man are all justified, for it takes skill, shrewdness, and industry to succeed in their callings. In short, service, and not industry nor intelligence, is the touchstone by which to determine what opportunities should be open and what closed under the principle of liberty. The principle of liberty, thus interpreted, is a part of the democratic or liberalistic theory of distributive justice.

Liberty to pursue one’s own interest in one’s own way, so long as the way is a useful one, gives rise to what is known as competition, which can only be defined as rivalry in the performance of service. Production is service. Wherever two or more men are seeking their own interests in the performance of the same kind of service, or, more accurately, are seeking the reward for the same kind of service, there will normally be rivalry among them. This rivalry sometimes leads the less scrupulous to seek their interests in other ways than through service. In a few glaring cases these predatory methods become the characteristic ones, and attract more attention than the great mass of activities in which men compete in real service. In reality, however, it is only in the limited field of “high finance” that mere shrewdness rivals serviceableness as a means of livelihood. But these predatory methods are not essential to the competitive system, and the principle of liberty as already defined requires that they be put in the same class with ordinary stealing and swindling.

In spite of the glaring weaknesses of the competitive system, and its undoubted waste of effort, it is the belief of the liberal school that it is the most effective system yet devised for the building up of a strong community. This belief rests upon a few well-known propositions which only need to be stated. (l) Every individual of mature age and sound mind knows his own interest better than any set of public officials can. (2) He will, if left to himself, pursue his own interest more systematically and successfully than he could if compelled to pursue it under the direction and supervision of any set of public officials. (3) He will pursue his interest by performing service for others, provided all harmful or non-serviceable methods are effectually closed by law. (4) Where each is free to pursue his own interest in serviceable ways, and where his well-being depends upon the amount of his service, all will be spurred on to perform as much service as possible, and the community will thus be served in the best possible manner, because all its members will be striving with might and main to serve one another.

It is worth noting that this argument is neither a glorification of self-interest nor an approval of laissez faire. It requires governmental interference with every non-serviceable pursuit of self-interest which it is possible for the law to reach. At the basis of the doctrine of laissez faire has always lain the assumption, expressed or implied, that human interests are harmonious. If this assumption were true, the argument for laissez faire would be irresistible, being somewhat as follows:

(1) Each individual of mature years and sound mind will pursue his own interest more energetically and intelligently when left to himself than when directed by any body of public officials.

(2) The interests of each individual harmonize with those of society at large.

(3) Therefore, if each is left to himself, he will work in harmony with the interests of society, and he will work more energetically and intelligently than he could if directed by public officials.

This conclusion is contained in the premises, and cannot be questioned by any one who accepts them. Though the individual is liable to error as to his own interests, he is much less so than any body of officials would be. If we could postulate something like omniscience in public officials, the first proposition of the above argument might be rejected. And here lies the danger. The natural egotism of all men, and especially of those who thrust themselves forward as candidates for public office, and those who inherit office, leads them to believe in their ability to regulate things in general. They are thus under constant temptation to exercise their superior intelligence in the regulation of other people’s affairs. Against this tendency the public needs to be continually on its guard, and government ought not to be allowed to interfere with the affairs of a mature individual of sound mind, for his own good.

With the second proposition the case is different. It was on this assumption that Adam Smith based his famous dictum regarding the “invisible hand,” which, in the absence of interference, led the individual to promote the public interest while trying to promote his own. But all such dreams of a beneficent order of nature belong to an older system of philosophy. One of the services of the evolutionary philosophy has been our disillusionment on this subject. It has opened our eyes to the stern fact that, in spite of many harmonies, there is still a very real and fundamental conflict of interests. The term “struggle for existence” has no meaning unless it implies such a conflict. In the light of this philosophy the primary function of government is to neutralize as far as possible this conflict and mitigate the severities of the struggle. The most enlightened governments of the present perform this function mainly by prohibiting those methods of struggling which are in themselves harmful. We must conclude, therefore, that, while there is no good reason why the state should interfere with a capable individual for his own good, there are abundant reasons why it should interfere with him for the good of others. The old liberalism erred in assuming too much in the way of harmony of interests. The new liberalism must correct this by insisting upon: (1) the absolute necessity of suppressing harmful methods of pursuing self-interest; (2) the absolute freedom to pursue self-interest in all serviceable ways; (3) the absolute responsibility, under the foregoing conditions, of the individual for his own well-being, allowing those to prosper who, on their own initiative, find ways of serving the community, and allowing those who do not to endure poverty.

The principle of adaptation, which, according to the evolutionary philosophy, lies at the basis of all progress, must determine our theory of distributive justice. As already pointed out, a theory of distributive justice is a rule for the guidance of the lawgiver rather than the individual consumer. Now the lawgiver is one who must adapt means to ends as truly as the mechanic, — that is, he must facilitate the process of human adaptation. The question becomes, What principle of distribution will most effectually promote human adaptation or social progress?

It goes without saying that industry is the primary active factor in human adaptation. It is the agency whereby the material environment is adapted to the needs of men. Other things equal, that rule of distribution which most effectively stimulates industry and inventiveness must be the most effective in hastening progress. It must generally be admitted that the competitive system stimulates industry more effectively than any other system yet devised. If we can leave every one free to pursue his self-interest in his own way, so long as his way is that of the industry which produces or serves, the active form of adaptation will take care of itself.

It is the belief of those who accept the evolutionary philosophy that selection, natural or artificial, is the chief factor in passive adaptation. It is the factor by which the species is itself improved or adapted to its conditions. Though artificial selection, as practiced by the scientific breeder, is vastly superior to natural selection, yet it does not seem possible that any democratic society will ever intrust the propagation of the species to any body of scientific experts. We seem to be limited, therefore, to some form of natural or automatic selection. But this does not commit us to the principle of natural selection in the ultra-Darwinian sense. In the absence of some form of social control, this principle would work in man as it does in the lower animals. Survival would depend upon the mere ability to survive, and not upon fitness in any sense implying worth, merit, or usefulness. The adept murderer, thief, or confidence man would stand the same chance of survival as the efficient producer of wealth. But when society suppresses all harmful methods of pursuing self-interest, leaving open all useful ones, it deliberately sets up a standard of fitness for survival. If this standard is rigidly enforced, only those who are useful to the race, who are able to make conditions better for their fellows, are allowed to survive. This differs from artificial selection in that it leaves the individual free, within certain prescribed limits, to shift for himself and survive if he can. Within these limits it works automatically, like natural selection. It differs from natural selection in that, by virtue of these limits, a standard of fitness is set up.

A society which thus makes service the basis of individual reward, and at the same time the test of fitness for survival, will inevitably be a progressive society, because it will tend to weed out the useless individuals, — that is, those who are not capable of promoting the process of adaptation, and to produce a race highly capable in this direction. In addition to this it will call out in the fullest degree the capabilities of the individuals by appealing to their self-interest, plus — and not instead of — whatever altruistic feelings they may possess.

This principle of distribution according to service has sometimes been travestied by attempting to define service in terms of effort. This would mean that if two men try equally hard they should receive equal shares in the distribution of wealth. This is distribution according to effort, and not according to service, because efforts are not all equally serviceable. Besides, this rule is hopelessly defective in two essential particulars. In the first place, the individual’s value to society, or his effectiveness as an agent of progress, does not depend upon the amount of effort which he puts forth. The bungling mechanic or the soulless artist may work as hard as the genius, but they do not contribute as much utility to society. Neither of them is so valuable as an agent of progress. In the second place, this rule would fail to exercise the same beneficial selective influence upon the race. The mediocre and the genius would fare equally well. The dull and the stupid would be put on the same footing with, and stand the same chance of survival as, the capable and the talented. Worse still, the man who would persist in going into an occupation already relatively overcrowded — where, in other words, the community did not need him — would fare as well as though he had entered an occupation relatively undercrowded, — where, in other words, he was needed. The well-being of society requires men to fill the gaps, to do the kind of work which is very much needed because the right kind of talent is scarce. The man who can do this kind of work is more useful than the man who can do only what every one else is able to do. The simple fact is that utility is what society needs, and utility, rather than effort, is the measure of service. Society should, therefore, shape its policy so as to secure the maximum utility.

It only remains to decide who shall determine the value of the individual’s service in industry. Shall it be determined by public officials who have no direct interest in the matter, or shall it be left to the judgment of those who receive the service ? As to which is the safer method, there can scarcely be a moment’s doubt. Granting all that may be said about the depravity of popular tastes and the whimsicalities of fashion, of the maltreatment of the genius and the prosperity of the time-server, all this and more may be said about the insolence of office, and the arbitrariness and stupidity of public officials, elective as well as hereditary. Obviously no one is in so good a position to appraise the value of a service as the one who is to receive it. His judgment or his taste may be perverted, but the same is equally likely in the case of any functionary to whom it may be entrusted. If the individual is to be left free to pursue his own interest in the way of performing service, it seems to follow necessarily that he must also be left free to pursue his own interest in the way of securing the services of others. In other words, freedom of consumption is as essential as freedom of production; freedom to accept or reject a service is as essential as freedom to serve or refrain from serving. There is only one way by which this result can be secured, and that is to allow the producer and consumer to come together on the basis of freedom of contract. So long as men are self-interested, this will frequently result in hard bargaining, and sometimes in injustice; but it is much less likely to result in injustice than any system of paternalism, or any other arrangement by which the value of a service is determined by some one else than the person who receives it. Assuming that the parties are of mature age and sound mind, that neither party is allowed to use force or violence or any other form of compulsion, and assuming further (which may seem revolutionary) that all liars, or those who practice deception by offering shoddy and adulterated goods, shall be treated like the counterfeiter and the gold-brick man, and that neither party is given a legal or political advantage over the other in the way of protective duties or other unfair discriminations, this system is safer than any other. Under this system, thus safeguarded, the tendency will be for every one to get about what he is worth.

Any analysis of the actual results of the competitive process will show that, where competition in the proper sense of the word exists, substantial justice according to the democratic, or liberalistic, theory is secured. It has been the purpose of this paper to show that the full realization of this theory of distributive justice would secure the highest possible well-being of society, so far as that is dependent upon legal control. It goes without saying that we are very far from a full realization of this ideal; but this at least reveals the real work of the social reformer. The reformer who works toward the fuller realization of the principle of distribution according to worth, usefulness, or service will be working in harmony with the laws of social progress, and his labors will, therefore, be effective. Otherwise, he will be attempting to turn society backward, or to shunt it off on a sidetrack.