The Daily Worker Newspaper, February 6, 1926, Page 13

i ee tS Second Part: Continued from last Saturday. By Harry Gannes. Catholic Church Wants Smooth Methods, HE catholic church, with its less” firmly rooted rivals, has been ob- liged to turn its attention a little away from theology, in the direction of sociology. Conditions of the working class have forced the church, which exploits millions of workers the world over, to introduce a reformistic labor program. This kind, gentle mother of many oppressed children knows she cannot subdue those children without giving them some sort of soothing syrup. The rulers of this powerful institu- tion, remembering that the heyday of the church was in the middle ages, constantly plead for a return to the guild system of that time. Their labor program today is laid down by Leo XIII, which boosts this method of class collaboration. But nothing dangerous! Oh, no! “Our first and most fundamental principle,” says the holy father, “when we undertake to alleviate the condition of the masses must be the inviolabili- ty of private property.” Strikes, of course, tamper with this sacred institution, private property. So: “If by a strike, or other combina- tion of workmen, there should be imminent danger of disturbance to the public peace. ... there can be no question that, within certain limits, it would be right to call in the help and authority of the law.” Nor is this the only way in which the modern St. Peter would protect the capitalist from the workers: “Religion teaches the working man. . . never to injure capital, nor to outrage the person of an em- --ployery onevereto. employ violence Sol) Fepresenting”his own cause, nor and to have nothing to do with men of evil principles who work upon the people with artful promises. . .” These “men of evil principles” are those who tell the workers to help themselves, and not to wait for the generous capitalist and their ally god to help them. Now, where, in all this, is the sooth- ing syrup mother church promises her children? So far it looks like a pretty bitter dose—a stiff physic. But listen: There are several ways (to say nothing to church regularly) by which a worker can be made healthy, weal- thy and wise. The church urges co- operation with the bosses. She en- dorses company unions, and all organ- izations which have a tendency to smother the class struggle. She preaches economy, thrift, and tells the workers “to be content with frugal living.” She suports mild reforms, as “living wage” cries. But on one point she is emphatic. “Whatever may be the industrial and social remedies which will ap- prove themselves to the American “people, there is no one that, we feel confident, they will never adopt. That is the method of revolution. For there is neither justification nor excuse. Through the ordinary and orderly processes all social wrongs can be righted.” For Kash and Krime—the Ku Klux Klan. E most modern dress of the church militant is the sheet and pillow case of the ku klux klan. These are the “four hundred” of religion; native, white, protestant and gentile, and as is proper to the elite—especial- ly hostile to labor. The ku klux klan sprang up in the south after the civil war, to terrify the Negroes into submission, and warn them against taking advantage of their newly gained freedom. It has recently revived as a fascist organiza- tion. - A small group of men make a com- fortable profit from the sale of uni- forms and other organizational clap- trap. The senate investigation of the The Use Value of God!The Bo klan (May 16, 1924) disclosed their pay roll to be four million a year. This organization of native Ameri- can christians has-distinguished itself by lynching, tar-and-feathering, and many pleasant little variations of the innocent game of murder. By terrorizing progressive union- ists, by lynching striking workers, by constant howls for ‘co-operation be- tween employer and employe” and a thousand other of the favorite slo- gans of reaction, the K. K. K. has declared itself again and again the enemy of the proletariat. It attacks not only Soviet Russia, Communism and all forms of radicalism or liberal- ism, but every actiyity of organized labor. More than once the K. K. K. has is- sued proclamations accusing strikers of “interfering with the laws of god,” meaning the laws of capitalism. It fights the strikers by propaganda, threats, mob outrages and murder. And it always carries on these activi- ties in the name of “hundred per cent Americanism, and hundred percent ‘christianity.” Protestant Preachers Find New Meal Tickets in K. K. K. OES the protestant church, up- holder of law, order and the right to exploit, oppose’ the violent and bloody deeds of the klan? Most of the organizers and speakers are ministers. There are 32,000 protestant ministers in the organization (catholic priests, Jewish rabbis, foreign born. sky pilots and black shepherds are not invited to join this exclusive group). These figures we have on the unques- tionable authority of a minister, the Reverend Oscar Haywood of South Carolina, in a speech made on the 21st of October, 1923. These American fascists boast not only holy, but millionaire organizers. David C. Stephenson, a_ millionaire coal company promoter of Evansville and Indianapolis, took over the or- ganization of the Indiana territory in 1923. He asserts,that-he iucreased the membership of the Indiana kian to 380,000, and. the Ohio klan to 225,000 members. Jealous of the part the catholic church has played in promoting igno- rance and misery, in defending cap- italism from a class conscious prole- tariat, the K. K. K. has become the protestants’ champion in the fight. But where the catholics preach inter- nationalism, under the absolute domi- nation of the pope, the K. K. K. preaches nationalism; and the only alliance possible between the two chief forces of religious reaction is a bitter war on Communism. Religion Always Enemy’s Dope for Workers, O religion with its million forms, whether it wears the flowing robes of the papacy, of the ghost clothes of the ku klux klan, is at heart the same. Sometimes it masquerades as liberal, as the Y. W. C. A.; some- times it proclaims itself reactionary, “fundamentalist,” as do the hardshells of the christian creeds. Whatever its costume for the minute, however styles may change outward appear- ances, it is the legitimate descendant of the spook with which priesthood first frightened the lowly of the savage tribe. Formerly it was the weapon of feudalism. Now it is the tool of cap- italism. It is always wielded by the ruling class of the age and country in which it finds itself. Markets may fluctuate and business face bankruptcy, but there is no change for the capitalists in the use- value of god. THE END. A satirical drawing by Abe Stolar. ys Arm and the Lady’s Pearl By Bertha Shain. I, T happened at eleven o’clock at night in one of the largest print- ng houses of New York where more chan six hundred people are employed and exploited. Most of _the skilled workers in that establishment are members of different trade union or- ganizations, such as the Printers’, Cut- ters’, Mailers’, and Bindery unions. ‘The unskilled are not organized at all, and therefore, are most exploit- 2d. Their average wage is sixteen dollars per week. Their work is hard. it consists of pulling trucks filled with magazines or sheets, cleaning the machines, carrying heavy loads of sheets to the gathering machines for the girls to fill in. Some are married men with children. The shop is op- erated by two shifts; day and night workers. (During the school year, not in the summer.) I shall not cite all the conditions of the factory with its workers, but I shail relate a little story that occurred not long ago. Il. T was night. The sky was dotted with bright, gleaming stars. The factory district collapsed into a sea of silence and shadow. The streets grew more and more empty. The rush and bustle of work was over. Prominent, almost silhouette-like stood the huge, enormous structure that housed the printing plant. Thru all of its window panes electric bulbs dazzled the eye. The whirling of the wheels of the printing presses pene- trated the biting air outside. It broke the silence of the street and disturb- ad the»peacefuk beauty of the night. On one of the floors of the build- ing, in the press room, a bright young boy about fifteen years of age was employed in the night shift. The men liked him for his joyous spirits and for his alertness, The boy was eager to learn a trade, At present he only earned $16 a week, with which he had to support his mother and four little snes besides. One night, just a week before Christmas, the boy approached one of che pressmen, asking him to let him try to operate a feeding machine. His request was granted. Several minutes later a crash of the machine and a tearful, piercing cry of the youth was ueard. All the men ran over to see what occurred. The boy’s arm was caught in the machine. The excite- ment was overwhelming. The sight of the tragedy caused some to faint. Yet the boy’s nerves were stunned; he did not even weep. His face express- ed great suffering, he stood there with drooping head, bitting his lips, his face turned wan, lifeless and livid. He was fearfully crushed at heart. All his dreams and hopes were blight- EE 8 ed. The only words he uttered were: ‘Don’t tell mother.” An ambulance, a doctor. A squad arrived for the purpose of wrecking the machine if necessary. They could not extricate his arm. The managers consulted with the doctor whether it paid to wreck thé machine as it would entail a great property loss. The doc- tor advised not to, as his arm. would be lost anyhow, and why not do.the job right now? Meanwhile, the poor boy was strug- gling herocially in*pain and agony for a half hour, until finally they sep- arated him from his right arm up to the elbow, and then he was removed to a hospital. The following day the news of this event spread like wildfire all over the shop. Some said the boy would die, as he had lost too much blood. How- ever, he survived. Whén the lad’s mother came to visit him in the hos- pital, he concealed his injured arm under the cover. He felt guilty. With childish, beseeching eyes he looked into her face, but the poor woman knew of this misfortune. Crushed, in great despair, when leaving her son, she said: “That was my Christmas gift.” Several days later a subsfantial col- lection was made in the shop for the boy. Each one, practically gave a dollar. Since then we never heard anything more about the unfortunate youth. The incident is almost forgot- ten. The work goes on as ever be- fore, with more exploitation, if pos- sible. ir. HE employer’s home is rich and e’rgeous, resembling a beautiful castle described in fairy tales. His wife is young and pretty. She never visited her husband's factory, she can- not tolerate the offensive odor of fresh print, it makes her dizzy, Besides, she does not like to see dirty people and unpleasant faces, ugly things are not for her. She enjoys wealth, beauty and idleness. Last summer they both spent their vacation in Eu- rope. Christmas Eve. The employer was in good spirits, full of joy and ex- pectation. Her salon was sumptuous- ly decked out. An enormous Christmas tree with countless colored lights, cos- tumed like a queen, was standing in the middle of the room. They ex- pected guests to their party. “Dis- tinguished” people were invited. When her husband entered the room early in the evening, she greetd him with a broad smile. He pulled out from his pocket a small box; it con- tained a string of pearls for his wife. She was so overwhelmed with delight, that she gave a little scream. What beautiful jewels! Their tints sparkled in an ever-changeable iredescence. Both stood in the middle of the room, near the tree, admiring the pearls. These seemed like living creatures. They reflected many countenances, but not those countenances bearing the sweat and blood of ceaseless toil. To A Fat Bourgeois By Henry George Weiss. 0) YOU are hog-fat and your clothing is fine, So stoke down your fodder and lap up your wine, Let the paunch of your plenty protrude from your vest; ° And the jowls of contentment fold down on your breast, For we lean and hungry are supple and strong, With thin lips that murmur, Not long now, now, not long. While you have been eating the best in the land Bedewed with our sweat and produced by our hand, In the snow and the rain, in the heat and the cold, Now tempered by hardships we patiently wait Our hate has grown bitter, our hearts have grown bold, Like lean wolves in winter, outside of your gate. Eat, drink, an‘ be merry, wax sluggish and proud, For thus shall you totter, your shoulders be bowed; When the walls of your mansion fall in on your head The poor shall be sheltered, the hungry be fed, And you and your class will go down in the sea Of surging red flags in the land of the free!