Poetry is dead? So they say . . . Aye, aye, poetry is done for, vanished, kicked the bucket and gone up the flue and lost in the mountain snows of the latest plane crash, hunting parties on the way to gather the remains and study the debris...
Carl Sandburg's "joke" about the death of poetry points to the constant danger that art will be suffocated by technology. Art and science, values and technology are, however, intertwined and inseparable. Poetry serves as the protector, teacher and scholar for the integration of knowledge.
In the early days of agriculture the farmer pushed the plow. Farmer and plow were one. The farmer provided both brain and brawn. Then horsepower (or oxpower) replaced human muscle power. The human driver could build a "talking," affectionate relationship with the "beast of burden." Tasks and relationships changed again as the farmer became the tractor's mechanic. But still, while steering the machine, the farmer provided brainpower. Now plans exist for agricultural robots which plow the land, drop the seed, cover the furrow, water the plant and pick the crop-unaided by humans. What new opportunities await the farmer no longer bent over plow or tractor?
Futurists tell us that tomorrow will include the scientist, the farmer, the soldier and the administrator. The scientist will continue to be the tool maker so that we can be ever more efficient in controlling and manipulating our environment. Some form of farmer will meet the nutrition needs of the planet (perhaps of several planets). Some form of military will keep order, and the administrator will be with us because "someone has to be responsible."
Unfortunately, futurists forget the most important member of the team. The poet/artist is the one who gives it all meaning and makes it all worthwhile. Indeed, it is the poet/artist who will point to the problems of the future-and guide us to solutions.
Truly, poets and artists have historically pointed to society's problems and become a focus of change. Edwin Markham's poem "The Man with the Hoe" makes a fine example. Seeing Jean-François Millet's powerful and sad painting of a bowed and emotionally broken worker, Markham made this peasant a symbol of all workers. At the turn of an earlier century (1899) this poem became a rallying cry against the exploitation of labor.
Bowed by the weight of centuries he leans Upon his hoe and gazes on the ground The emptiness of ages in his face. And on his back the burden of the world. Who made him dead to rapture and despair, A thing that grieves not and that never hopes, Stolid and stunned, a brother to the ox?
A brother to the ox? No more! Those involved with robotics, whether in factory automation, farm machinery or home, see an end to the mindless, demeaning work that should be left to oxen-or machines.
And what might humans do when they are no longer beasts of burden? Again the poet points the way. Markham continues:
Is this the Thing the Lord God made and gave To have dominion over see and land; To trace the stars and search the heavens for power; To feel the passion of Eternity?
"To trace the stars and search the heavens." A joy for astronaut or philosopher. "To feel the passion of Eternity." A joy for physicist or poet. Leisure permits dreaming.
The worker on an unemployment line in Detroit or Pittsburgh may not see the new freedom from behaving like an ox as a positive image. The potential of functional and structural unemployment for millions of Americans may not make the promise of technology seem like a great joy. A look at recent history may, however, give a new perspective. Seventy-five years ago this country experienced a great industrial reorientation and economic agony which caused people to question the foundation of capitalism. Out of that economic spasm known as the Great Depression came the 40-hour work week, a strong labor movement, and with it, some employee rights.
Now, as we pass through another industrial shift and another economic agony, blue collar workers transform, albeit reluctantly, into white collar workers. We can begin to see outcomes which may include a 35-hour work week, more employee rights, and the intelligent, humane use of leisure time. But first we may travel through another economic storm.
An examination of how work has been viewed through the ages provides additional guidance. Our survey begins with Genesis in which we read, "In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread." And further, "Six days shall you labor . . ."
Biblical quotations abound and have set the parameters of our values toward work. Is work an enriching experience or is it humanity's punishment for the sins of Adam and Eve? One's response to that question will focus one's values regarding labor-saving tools-robots specifically and automation in general.
The ancient Hebrews saw work as painful drudgery, punishment for the transgressions of Adam and Eve. The later rabbinic era tried to cast a glow of wholesomeness on work, yet promised the reward of "a kingdom of idleness" much like the Garden of Eden from which the first family was expelled. Early Christianity also viewed work as punishment for sin. Luther, in contrast, saw work as central to life and mocked idleness as unnatural. Calvin, like several other Protestant theologians, insisted that because work was God's will it was good.
The ancient Greeks saw man as brutalized by work and developed a separate class of being-slaves. Karl Marx, on the other hand, saw meaning in productive labor as the "first necessity in life." His concern was with the quality of the worker's experience while earning a living. And so as industrialization removed "meaning" from work, especially the crafts, C. Wright Mills wrote, "As practice, craftsmanship has largely been trivialized into `hobbies,' part of leisure, not of work." Witness the Arts and Crafts Movement as a reaction to industrialization.
While there are always those who assert that work can cleanse the soul, rhyme generally advances the alternative. John Kenneth Galbraith opens his chapter "Of Toil" in The New Industrial State with the "traditional epitaph of an English Charwoman."
Don't mourn for me, friends, don't weep for me never, For I'm going to do nothing forever and ever.
Less cheerful and more political is Thomas Hood's 19th century poem, "The Song of the Shirt."
With fingers weary and worn, With eyelids heavy and red, A woman sat in unwomanly rags, Plying her needle and thread— Stitch—stitch—stitch! In poverty, hunger, and dirt; And still with a voice of dolorous pitch She sang the "Song of the Shirt! "Work—work—work While the cock is crowing aloof! And work—work—work Till the stars shine through the roof! It's oh! to be a slave Along with the barbarous Turk, Where woman has never a soul to save, If this is Christian work!
Nine more stanzas examine work with its hardships and poor rewards. And yet workers fight for their jobs. Especially poignant is the story of the Luddites (1811-1816) who destroyed the first sewing machines because they predicted the total unemployment of tailors.
The "Liberal Age" produced John Keats' "Isabella" and Ernest Jones' "The Song of the Wage-Slave" both of which examine "oppression" of workers. William Morris' "The March of the Workers" essentially calls for revolution.
Many a hundred years passed over have they labored deaf and blind; Never tidings reached their sorrow, never hope their toil might find. Now at last they've heard and hear it, and the cry comes down the wind; And their feet are marching on.
How fascinating to find, as we study technology, industrial history, economics, religion, poetry, even work songs-all in an integrated unit-that poetry always leads the way. We examine political history, stir in Eugene Pottier's poem, set that to music and we have "The International." Most recognize the first words:
Arise, ye pris'ners of starvation! Arise, ye wretched of the earth, . . .
Few know the powerful ending:
Toilers from shops and fields united, The party we of all who work; The earth belongs to us, the people, No room here for the shirk! How many on our flesh have fattened! But if the noisome birds of prey Shall vanish from the sky some morning, The blessed sunlight still will stay. 'Tis the final conflict, Let each stand in his place, The International Party Shall be the human race.
Apparently the Communist Party, like several other radical American labor movements, opposes the introduction of industrial robots, commonly known as automation, into the modern factory. The current fear, like that of the 19th century Luddites, is that the "toilers" will be unemployed and starving. Work has old meaning for new, radical movements.
Yes, art, poetry, and music examine our values. One might study the American labor movement beginning with Millet's famous painting of "The Man with the Hoe" and Markham's subsequent poem which was cited earlier. More political than Millet's painting, and perhaps more dramatic, is Ford Madox Brown's "Work." Painted circa 1860, it reflects the anger of some of the poems cited here. Anti-capitalist in tone, it shows four proud street workers digging in a London street. One sees ladies and gentlemen in the background and, significantly, Thomas Carlyle as an observer to the street scene. It was Carlyle, of course, who celebrated the working man while thundering against "Mammon worship."
The impact of technology on industry and the modern office affects women at work and that, too, has been examined in poetry and prose. Sinclair Lewis' The Job, published in 1917, is not only an interesting examination of office work, but also one of the earlier examinations of women's aspirations. At the end of the novel Walter suddenly finds himself supervised by Goldie. "Gee!" he says, "I can't go on working for you. The problem of any man working for a woman boss is hard enough. He's always wanting to give her advice and be superior, and yet he has to take her orders." When Walter proposes marriage, Goldie responds, "But, my dear boy, I'm a business woman." We won't give the ending away here!
The Job, like many other novels, along with a study of poetry, philosophy, theology, history, economics-the humanities as well as the social sciences-give insight into our values about work in a context of technology. While the Luddites among us continue to fear the machine, over the long haul, technology has made workers more efficient, resulting in an ever shorter work week. In the long term, automation will, as it has in the past, free the human animal from the role of beast of burden. Human creativity will flourish.
Aye, aye, poetry is done for, vanished, kicked the bucket and gone up the flue and lost in the mountain snows of the latest plane crash, hunting parties on the way to gather the remains and study the debris..."
Don't bet on it. Poetry in particular, literacy generally, the visual arts, even music, will continue to be the conscience of the world. Poets and storytellers will continue to examine our value systems and keep us on track. And when machines free the man with the plow, poetry will blossom as time allows us to create and dream.
Along the way we must face moral dilemmas. Even Charles Lindbergh chose beauty over power and commerce when he said, "If I had to choose I would rather have birds than airplanes." Perhaps we can have both.
© 2008 by Fred M.B. Amram.