VOLUME III, SEMESTER 3, CHAPTER 33, SECTION 3

VOLUME III, SEMESTER 3, CHAPTER 33, SECTION 3

What makes labor come alive is the man standing behind it

The last section counted nine kinds of living labor. This section closes the last floor of the front half of the term: these nine kinds of living labor, on what are they lit. A machine will not do a labor alive, a set of rules will not of itself do a labor alive. What makes labor come alive, in the end. The answer of this section gathers all we spoke of in the front half onto one word, and pushes us to the door of the back half.

One, the institution and the rules are dead

The front half of the term spoke of many things. It spoke of that institution of distribution by labor, of the six rules for weighing labor, of the two frames, of the flow of labor. Now turn back and look at these things once, and they have one nature in common: they are all dead.

An institution of distribution by labor is dead. It sits there, laying down who puts out how much labor, takes how much money, but it does not itself move, will not turn any one share of labor alive. The six rules are dead. They can only weigh, weigh out a number, and cannot weigh whether the man did it with the heart in or did it drifting. The two frames are dead too. The price, the assessment, are a set of rules, a set of reckonings, and they fold labor into a share, but they cannot touch the alive and dead of that labor. This whole set of tools the front half made is a fine, exact machine for weighing labor and dividing labor. But a machine, however fine, is still only a machine. It can weigh a labor out to its ounces, divide out how much, and it cannot turn a dead labor into a living one.

So what turns labor alive.

Two, it is the man standing behind that labor

The answer is very plain, and very deep: it is the man. It is the living man standing behind this labor.

One same set of rules for carrying plates, handed to two men, one makes a dead labor, one makes a living labor. What parts them is not the rules, it is those two men. One same block of wood, one same craft of carpentry, another makes a frame, and Qing makes it as though it had a god. What parts them is not the craft, it is Qing this man, it is that heart of his that fasted to still itself, that gave the whole of himself over. You set the institution, the rules, the frames all in place, and you are still short the most needful thing: the man willing to put the heart in. This man there, and labor is alive. This man not there, and your fine machine turns empty, and all it weighs out is dead labor.

So this whole set of things the front half made, weighing labor, dividing labor, flowing labor, said to the bottom, is all serving one thing: the man standing behind the labor. The institution is for the man, not the man for the institution. The rule is held in the hand of man, the rule itself does not think. This layer is the last, and the most needful, floor of the front half: all institutions and rules are dead, and the one thing that can turn labor alive is the man.

Three, this is why the by labor cannot be the whole

This layer once set firm, a great matter comes with it: this is why distribution by labor cannot be the whole of the human world.

Think, that machine of the by labor, what does it own. The labor that can be weighed out. Facing a labor, what it asks is forever: worth how much, divide how much. But it cannot touch the man behind that labor, cannot touch whether that man did it living or endured it dead, still less can it touch the warmth in that man’s heart, the meaning in it. A world with only the by labor left, what would it be. It would be a world where every man reckons to the finest count, you put out this much and I give that much, not a bit more, not a bit less. In that world, that man who moved the hottest plate aside for you, that bowl of rice your mother left you, all turn into things left over, things that cannot be reckoned into the account.

Yet in our hearts we all know: it is exactly these things not reckoned into the account that let a man live like a man. It is exactly that warmth that asks no return and gives you one bit more, that lets a group be not only a cold machine. So the by labor, however widespread, however needful, can be only the one half of the human world. The human world must have another half too, a half that holds on purpose those things that cannot be reckoned into the account, yet let a man live like a man. What that other half is, is exactly what the back half of the term will call out, one by one.

Four, the kind, that is the man

To speak of the man being the root that turns labor alive, to speak of the human world not being left with only the reckoning of accounts, call three words from the Doctrine of the Mean, to seal the floor of the front half, and open the door of the back half. The kind, that is the man. So runs the line in the Book of Rites, the Doctrine of the Mean.

Put it plain. The kind, that is the man, is to say that what is called kind is exactly the thing by which a man is a man. These three words button the kind and the man into one. It says: a man, the reason he can count as a true man, is exactly that in his heart there is that share of kind, that tenderness toward others, that warmth willing to give one bit more.

Join these three words onto this chapter. What turns labor alive. The man. But ask one layer deeper in, what in the man turns labor alive. The kind. That force of putting the heart in, the eye holding man, willing to give one bit more, its root is exactly this one word, kind. A machine has no kind, and so it cannot make a living labor. A set of rules has no kind, and so it cannot turn a labor alive. Only the man, only that little kind in the heart of man, can light living labor.

The front half of the term spoke of labor. Spoken to the last, it landed on the man. Spoken to the man, it landed on the kind. And this word kind is exactly the lead player of the back half. The by need the back half speaks of, those things given out with no condition, that deepest character it speaks of, said to the bottom, all speak of this one word kind, of how it comes alive in the human world.

Five, the front half of the term closes its floor here

Chapter thirty three walks to here, and the whole front half closes its floor. Turn back, and look once at the road walked this half journey.

Set out from that account of last term not yet reckoned, and found that four million was divided by labor. Took apart the false wall of capitalism against socialism, and saw clear the by labor is everywhere, no man slips free. Called Mozi, Xunzi, Confucius, to drive a root of two thousand years under the by labor. Drove into that word weighing, set out six rules, two frames. Watched the flow of labor, dug to that dark lock the chance. Walked to the bound of the by labor, and saw the child of three, the old man of eighty, the mother with no price, saw the three workings of the house, mutual aid, public keeping that make up the not enough. At the last, cut open living labor, counted nine kinds, landed on the man, landed on the kind.

This half journey speaks one thing: distribution by labor is a vast, everywhere net of the human world, and you and I both live in it. But this net can weigh labor, and cannot weigh the living man behind the labor, still less can it hold those things that cannot be reckoned into the account, yet let a man live like a man.

Six, what this chapter set, crossing to the back half of the term

Good. What this chapter set firm, and the layer that caps the front half of the term, is this: all institutions and rules for weighing and dividing labor are dead, and the one thing that can turn labor alive is the man, is that little kind in the heart of man. Just because of this, the by labor can be only the one half of the human world, and the human world must have another half.

So what is that other half. The front half, all along, ran into it several times. That bowl of rice a mother left for the child come home late. That thing that made up the chance for the bright poor child. That reasoning, take from the too much and make up the not enough. That line of Confucius, wishing to stand yourself, help others to stand. These things are none of them the by labor, they ask not how much labor you put out, they ask only whether you need. This other half has a name that was argued over for a hundred years, laughed at for a hundred years. It has lived all along in every man’s days, lived in that bowl of rice your mother left, yet almost no man knows it when he sees it.

The back half of the term calls it out, one by one, and gives it back to its position. The next chapter starts from the place it is most mistaken: communism is in truth not a kind of state, it is a kind of element.

Credit to the ancestors; the mistakes are mine: Tiger Lyon.

Chapter 34, Communism is not a kind of state, it is a kind of element