[ 196 ] The Great Transformation
ceases to be a popular feature of London life, its place is gradually
taken by meetings at which, at least in principle, the hands are counted
which otherwise would be raining blows.* The Prussian king who
proclaimed that to keep the peace was the subject's first and foremost
duty, became famous for this paradox; yet very soon it was a common-
place. In the nineteenth century, breaches of the peace, if committed
by armed crowds, were deemed an incipient rebellion and an acute
danger to the state; stocks collapsed and there was no bottom in prices.
A shooting affray in the streets of the metropolis might destroy a sub-
stantial part of the nominal national capital. And yet the middle
classes were now unsoldierly; popular democracy prided itself on
making the masses vocal; and, on the Continent, the bourgeoisie still
clung to the recollections of its revolutionary youth when it had boldly
faced a tyrannic aristocracy on the barricades. Eventually, the peas-
antry, least contaminated by the liberal virus, were reckoned the only
stratum that would stand in their persons "for law and order." One of
the functions of reaction was understood to be to keep the working
classes in their place, so that markets should not be thrown into a
panic. Though this service was only very infrequently required, the
availability of the peasantry as the defenders of property rights was an
asset to the agrarian camp.
The history of the 1920s would be otherwise inexplicable. When,
in Central Europe, the social structure broke down under the strain of
war and defeat, the working class alone was available for the task of
keeping things going. Everywhere power was thrust upon the trade
unions and Social Democratic parties: Austria, Hungary, even Ger-
many, were declared republics although no active republican party
had ever been known to exist in any of these countries before. But
hardly had the acute danger of dissolution passed and the services of
the trade unions become superfluous than the middle classes tried to
exclude the working class from all influence on public life. This is
known as the counterrevolutionary phase of the postwar period. Ac-
tually, there was never any serious danger of a Communist regime
since the workers were organized in parties and unions actively hostile
* Trevelyan, G. M., History of England, 1926, p. 533. "England under Walpole was
still an aristocracy, tempered by rioting." Hannah More's "repository" song, "The
Riot," was written "in ninety-five, a year of scarcity and alarm"—it was the year of
Speenhamland. Cf. The Repository Tracts, Vol. I, New York, 1835. Also The Library, 1940,
fourth series, Vol. XX, p. 295, on "Cheap Repository Tracts (1795-98)."
Market and Nature [197]
to the Communists. (Hungary had a Bolshevik episode literally forced
upon the country when defense against French invasion left no alter-
native to the nation.) The peril was not Bolshevism, but disregard of
the rules of market economy on the part of trade unions and working-
class parties, in an emergency. For under a market economy otherwise
harmless interruptions of public order and trading habits might con-
stitute a lethal threat* since they could cause the breakdown of the
economic regime upon which society depended for its daily bread.
This explained the remarkable shift in some countries from a suppos-
edly imminent dictatorship of the industrial workers to the actual dic-
tatorship of the peasantry. Right through the 1920s the peasantry de-
termined economic policy in a number of states in which they
normally played but a modest role. They now happened to be the only
class available to maintain law and order in the modern high-strung
sense of the term.
The fierce agrarianism of postwar Europe was a side light on the
preferential treatment accorded to the peasant class for political rea-
sons. From the Lappo movement in Finland to the Austrian Heimwehr
the peasants proved the champions of market economy; this made
them politically indispensable. The scarcity of food in the first post-
war years to which their ascendency was sometimes credited had little
to do with this. Austria, for instance, in order to benefit the peasants
financially, had to lower her food standards by maintaining duties for
grain, though she was heavily dependent upon imports for her food
requirements. But the peasant interest had to be safeguarded at all cost
even though agrarian protectionism might mean misery to the town-
dwellers and an unreasonably high cost of production to the exporting
industries. The formerly uninfluential class of peasants gained in this
manner an ascendency quite disproportionate to their economic im-
portance. Fear of Bolshevism was the force which made their political
position impregnable. And yet that fear, as we saw, was not fear of a
working-class dictatorship—nothing faintly similar was on the hori-
zon—but rather the dread of a paralysis of market economy, unless all
forces were eliminated from the political scene that, under duress,
might set aside the rules of the market game. As long as the peasants
were the only class able to eliminate these forces, their prestige stood
* Hayes, C, A Generation of Materialism, 18/0-1890, remarks that "most of the in-
dividual States, at least in Western and Central Europe, now possessed a seemingly su-
perlative internal stability."
[198] The Great Transformation
high and they could hold the urban middle class in ransom. As soon as
the consolidation of the power of the state and—even before that—
the forming of the urban lower middle class into storm troops by the
fascists, freed the bourgeoisie from dependence upon the peasantry,
the latter's prestige was quickly deflated. Once the "internal enemy" in
town and factory had been neutralized or subdued, the peasantry was
relegated to its former modest position in industrial society.
The big landowners' influence did not share in this eclipse. A more
constant factor worked in their favor—the increasing military impor-
tance of agricultural self-sufficiency. The Great War had brought the
basic strategic facts home to the public, and thoughtless reliance on
the world market gave way to a panicky hoarding of food-producing
capacity. The "re-agrarianization" of Central Europe started by the
Bolshevik scare was completed in the sign of autarchy. Besides the ar-
gument of the "internal enemy" there was now the argument of the
"external enemy." Liberal economists, as usual, saw merely a romantic
aberration induced by unsound economic doctrines, where in reality
towering political events were awakening even the simplest minds to
the irrelevance of economic considerations in the face of the ap-
proaching dissolution of the international system. Geneva continued
its futile attempts to convince the peoples that they were hoarding
against imaginary perils, and that if only all acted in unison free trade
could be restored and would benefit all. In the curiously credulous at-
mosphere of the time many took for granted that the solution of the
economic problem (whatever that may mean) would not only assuage
the threat of war but actually avert that threat forever. A hundred
years' peace had created an insurmountable wall of illusions which hid
the facts. The writers of that period excelled in lack of realism. The
nation-state was deemed a parochial prejudice by A. J. Toynbee, sover-
eignty a ridiculous illusion by Ludwig von Mises, war a mistaken cal-
culation in business by Norman Angell. Awareness of the essential na-
ture of the problems of politics sank to an unprecedented low point.
Free trade which, in 1846, had been fought and won on the Corn
Laws, was eighty years later fought over again and this time lost on the
same issue. The problem of autarchy haunted market economy from
the start. Accordingly, economic liberals exorcised the specter of war
and naively based their case on the assumption of an indestructible
market economy. It went unnoticed that their arguments merely
showed how great was the peril of a people which relied for its safety
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