
A letter from afar by A. Lincoln
The following letter, signed “A. Lincoln” but without a return address or subject line, appeared in my email this morning. No sooner had I made a copy of the letter than it disappeared from my inbox. Despite its strange and unexplained origin, the signature demands that attention be given to the letter; and, for this reason, it is being made available to readers of the WSWS.
[Hope everyone will read the whole letter about conditions today form our today from the 16th US president]
"The thing itself is this. In my time, one man was permitted to own the body of another and to take, by the lash, the whole fruit of his labor. We abolished that ownership, and rightly, and I went to my death believing the work substantially done. I see now that I saw only the crudest form of an older thing. For there grew up beside the chattel, and outliving him, a system in which a few need not own the laborer’s body because they own the field, the forge, the rail, the mine, the roof above him and the tools in his hands—so that he must sell his days to them or not eat, and they keep the difference between what his labor makes and what they are pleased to return to him, and call the keeping by the name of profit, and the arrangement by the name of liberty. The whip is retired; the wage does the work of the whip, and is thought gentle because it draws no blood the eye can see. This is the cause of the present crisis, as slavery was the cause of mine: a form of exploitation, lawful, respectable, defended from every pulpit of wealth, and for that respectability the harder to name.
"From this root the rest grows as the branch from the trunk. Wealth so gathered cannot rest; it must seek to own the government framed to bridle it, for a government it does not own is a danger it will not abide. Beyond its borders, wealth so gathered must seek markets and matter beyond the sea, and so it sends the nation’s sons to make the world safe for its increase, and dresses the errand in the flag, and calls conquest by the name of defense. And the citizen, told each evening by instruments the wealthy own that he is free and that his unease is his own fault, grows used to it, and christens his custom peace. The plutocrat, the disreputable client in my house, the armies abroad, the people taught to mistrust their own discontent—these are not four troubles. They are one trunk and its branches."