They decide. They give orders. They bargain. And something definite,
perhaps not at all what they imagined, actually happens.
Their subordinates are not tied to them by a common conviction. That
is to say the lesser members of a machine do not dispose their loyalty
according to independent judgment about the wisdom of the leaders. In
the hierarchy each is dependent upon a superior and is in turn
superior to some class of his dependents. What holds the machine
together is a system of privileges. These may vary according to the
opportunities and the tastes of those who seek them, from nepotism and
patronage in all their aspects to clannishness, hero-worship or a
fixed idea. They vary from military rank in armies, through land and
services in a feudal system, to jobs and publicity in a modern
democracy. That is why you can breakup a particular machine by
abolishing its privileges. But the machine in every coherent group is,
I believe, certain to reappear. For privilege is entirely relative,
and uniformity is impossible. Imagine the most absolute communism of
which your mind is capable, where no one possessed any object that
everyone else did not possess, and still, if the communist group had
to take any action whatever, the mere pleasure of being the friend of
the man who was going to make the speech that secured the most votes,
would, I am convinced, be enough to crystallize an organization of
insiders around him.
Pages:
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240