by Tom Baugh
During this time, Brokerog, of course, kept the prices of his commodity constant. Due to his size, the loss of a few workers and their production was nothing compared to the incremental price and wage difference on the large production which remained. And so he began to accumulate a reserve of excess wages which otherwise would have been paid out. The displaced workers included spies placed among them as they arrived at the other wood enterprises. These workers caused a ripple of wage reductions throughout the industry, as now the labor was in oversupply.
Fearing a popping bubble in wood industry wages, some workers chose to leave the industry altogether and went to work in other trades, never to return. For a time, all the traders and brokers in the wood industry profited from the depressed wages. The largest profited most of all as they were the best able to amortize the cost of regulatory compliance among their workers and inventory. The smaller enterprises did well, but not nearly so much as their larger competition.
No one but Brokerog realized what he knew, which was that the wage deflation was artificial. Each of his competition believed that this situation represented a permanent change in the industry. All along, though, with fewer workers, the wood production dropped slightly, and began to eat into the tribal reserves.
Some in the industry believed that this wage reduction was a largess which was being laid at their lap selectively and exclusively. And so they either squandered the wage difference or they invested in more production, such as buying additional chevals or axes with which to gather more effectively. Brokerog, however, held on to his wage reserve, all the while telling his specialists to place rumors that he was similarly expanding his capability.
After a suitable time, Brokerog suddenly announced a wage increase, and demanded increased production from all his staff. All throughout the valley word quickly spread that Brokerog was hiring at higher wages. This rumor spread quickest among the smaller enterprises whom he had seeded with employees feigning resignation from him before taking their new positions. These same seeded employees remained on the private payroll of Brokerog, and had told him of the investments made by their new hosts. They now drummed up dissatisfaction there and, inflating the expectations of new wages, led their workers away to his door.
Arriving there, the wage victims found that Brokerog's wages were higher, but not so much higher as they had been led to believe. The spies simply shrugged, leaving Brokerog blameless. But, the wage victims had also fallen prey to the simple compliance gambit of throwing down their working tools at the feet of their unsuspecting former employers. As they had mimicked the spies who led them in this, they found it difficult to return to their old jobs, so many signed on with Brokerog nonetheless.
Brokerog immediately increased production as much as possible. He also cut his supply to the commodity market, storing now the excess wood production. This cut ate into his wage reserve, and then some, as he traded wages for wood which would soon be scarce. His competition found themselves supplying the commodity market for a time all by themselves, and quickly depleted their stocks of wood. Lacking a full staff of labor, they faced a choice: run dry and only trickle out production, or hire more staff.
Some chose the former strategy, choosing to remain small, and rushed to keep up with the demand with their current staff, although prices on the market had not yet time to react. Eating at them, however, was the regulatory compliance cost, which now was amortized over less production. And recently purchased chevals and tools sat idle.
Some chose the latter strategy. Dipping into their reserves of various goods they rushed to hire whomever they could. But now they hired at wages artificially high as they reacted to the wage phantoms which Brokerog had planted. Some of the new hires, new to the industry and thus unskilled, were a drain on production and consumed much of the expertise of the remaining staff to train them. Recently purchased chevals and tools, in the hands of novices, were destroyed, legs broken, blades cracked. Efficiency suffered, and their wage and price differential threatened to exhaust them if the commodity price did not catch up soon.
But the commodity price only caught up slightly, rising only so much as Brokerog would allow by throttling availability of his production reserves. But not so much that his competition could truly benefit from the increase. Industry watchers saw Brokerog's competition struggling to meet demand, and stockpiles depleting everywhere they looked. Except at Brokerog's yard, where he sold only enough as needed to slow the drain on his wage reserves and keep prices slightly higher each day, falsely indicating a trend.
Brokerog piled stride after stride of wood at his yard, a seemingly suicidal act made possible only by the sheer size of his enterprise. He also, through the medium of his staff account-ants, began to apply for the maximum in the long-forgotten tax credit on this sizeable, and growing, and aging inventory of surplus wood. And so some of his lost sales during this time were returned to him in the form of tax credits. His sheer volume made that meager credit now a sizeable amount worth pursuing.
The merchants, in turn, raised their own prices accordingly. Watching the prices rise slightly day by day, and in anticipation of having to replace their stocks with even higher prices later, the merchants increased the prices to their customers even more. The tribesmen began to notice what seemed like a worsening wood market.
Meanwhile, Brokerog's spies continued to whisper. At the overworked shops they whispered, "Brokerog doesn't work his men so hard. I heard they had a position open up lately, I think I will apply for it next week." To beat the spy to the job, two or three scampered away to take the position, which indeed, Brokerog had waiting for all, but at the reasonable wage.
At the shops filled with novices they whispered, "Brokerog doesn't have so many unskilled men, so it is much safer working there. I heard they had a position open up lately, I think I will apply for it next week." To beat the spy to the job, two or three of the skilled scampered away to take the position, which indeed, Brokerog had waiting for all, but at the reasonable wage.
And so, the overworked were drained of labor, and their situation worsened. The shops laden with novices were drained of skill, and their situation worsened. And production at each began to suffer as the rising prices spurred them on. The seemingly endless price increases, even in the face of reduced consumption, were too good to resist.
By this time, as winter approached, the tribesmen began to truly take notice of the dwindling supply of wood. Some, fearing depletion, began to gather wood on their own, still legal under tribal law, so long as they didn't sell it. Others began to cut back on consumption. Either way, sales dipped slightly, enough to frighten Brokerog's competition, who still had no idea of what was going on. In a normal market, the reduced sales would have lowered prices, but Brokerog was able to continue throttling releases of his reserves to make them trickle higher nonetheless. Nothing seemed to make sense to anyone, and fear began to spread.
And then, Brokerog rose to speak to them. "My friends," he announced from the mount and from the tribal chambers, "we are but one tribe. Cold winter approaches, and we are indeed our brother's keeper. To ensure that none suffers, I am releasing my reserve of wood for sale, and at three parts in four of its normal price. I pray that my companions in the industry will follow me in this act of tribal pride, and that the merchants will pass these savings on to you."
His competition was stunned, having expected a price increase to save them. Brokerog merely traded otherwise worthless excesses of wood for vital reserves of credits, and more importantly, time. Time for his competition to falter. The overworked were at the limit of their ability, their stocks depleted, and now they would receive far less for their work than before. The underskilled were at the limit of their ability, their stocks similarly depleted, and would also receive far less for their work than before. Increasing production would not help, as neither could afford to produce more which would bring them less.
Many of each simply closed, their belongings placed at auctions which Brokerog att
ended. Some sold their enterprises to Brokerog outright, he being the only purchaser in the valley which could legally enter their business and had the credits to do so. Other than the very largest, the survivors were too damaged to do much but put the pieces back together. Yet Brokerog's power, and that of his larger competitors, grew only stronger.
Over the winter, Brokerog gradually brought prices back to their former levels, earning him more return now on his larger reserve of wood. As his profits mounted, he silently thanked the collective which had placed the tools of manipulation in his hands. Without the regulations which channeled the flow of labor into his hands, and prevented smaller operators from entering the industry to challenge him, he remained free to exercise these gambits whenever he thought a competitor weak enough to take.
"And the workers?" he asked himself in a moment of reflection of those who had voted for him to have this power, "merely tools in my hands." Free trade disappeared at every turn, stoned into oblivion by the collective masses with their ignorance and pettiness. The stonesmen were egged on by shamans and industry giants with agendas to promote. And free trade itself was blamed for each privation.
"Have you seen the price of wood lately? Free trade shouldn't be so free." Yet their own demands removed the independent woodmen who could have competed the price down.
"Why can't I ever get a great stone axe when I need one? We should regulate the tool makers more so that they will do better work." Not realizing that the smaller tool maker could have competed the quality up.
"Workers are treated like mice in a trap. How come free trade works for the wealthy, but not for us?" Not realizing that their own demands prevented them from starting their own enterprises and securing their own liberty.
"You just can't earn a living wage these days, those big brokers (or merchants or artisans or traders) won't pay fairly. Free trade? Hah. More like free labor. For them!" Not realizing that their own demands kept the individual or small traders from staying in business. And thus able to innovate or excel to keep the larger businesses from forming labor monopolies.
"They don't make ferment like they used to. All of the good fermenters sold out to the larger ones. Shame on them!" And on the masses for driving them out of business.
"My hut is leaking, and Tract won't do anything about it. We should get him under control." But they already were under control, and, in a collective, submission to that control trumps customer service.
Free trade was nowhere to be found. But it received all the blame, ensuring that it could never arise again. And throughout this downward spiral, the tribe subjected itself to increasing regulations which dictated who could hire whom, under what conditions, and for what payment. And regulations which dictated under what conditions materials could be obtained and provided to others. Regulations soon infected the fabric of every aspect of tribal life. Freedom itself disappeared from the valley.
Ploison, now an old man, watched this destruction of his beloved tribe, destruction which had been wrought in a surprisingly short time and for the best of intentions. And he understood now the responsibility which lay squarely on his shoulders. "This is all my fault," he thought to himself, the guilt weighing heavily upon his aged heart.
"Perhaps I shouldn't have turned The Widow away after she refused my offer of employment to improve her own situation," he lamented. "Instead, I should have put my arm lovingly around her frail shoulders, and led her through the back of my hut, where she could select whatever she wanted from my inventory yard."
In his mind's eye, he saw his younger self doing just this, leading her around his yard as the warm sun beamed down upon them. He saw her happy face as she walked with him and picked out this, and that, her body capable of performing the work he had offered, if her mind had only willed it so.
He also saw his own face, at peace, knowing that he was saving his tribe from certain destruction. He saw himself saving it from otherwise becoming a mockery of the tribe which his father and his aunt, in their selfsalvation as little orphans, helped to build and make wealthy. All the while, knowing that by his generosity he would only encourage her to return again and again, to him and others, and bringing more just like her. But his tribe would be safe.
And then, when her little arms were full, fuller than she was willing to make them in his employ, he saw himself kicking her into the ravine behind. As The Widow fell, her greedy clutching hands were unwilling to release the unearned treasure, even for a moment to save herself. Instead, this stolen treasure added its weight to the momentum of her plunge, more crisply snapping her neck upon the rocks below, his beloved tribe now safe.
Chapter 10, Employment Trends
Our delightfully gentle caveman examples help illustrate a key concept about how employment evolves over time. Consider the thoroughly unscientific chart below:
Source: My fevered imagination. As time began, to the left of the chart, most people worked for themselves, gathering stuff as needed using their own ideas and energy. Then, somewhere along the way, still to the left of the chart, some people began working for others, trading in the classical sense.
Then, as the chart, and recorded history, begins on the left side of the chart above, some portion of people are working for others to some extent or another. Og and Pok could reasonably be considered as working for each other. From Og's perspective, Pok supplies squirrels as an independent contractor paid in wood, while Pok has a similar perspective about Og. Those who don't work for others in some sense are still in the huntergatherer subsistence mode.
For a good chunk of human history, more and more people became involved in trade. Unfortunately, in too many cases, that trade was forced at the tip of a lash, as was prevalent across most of Africa and Asia throughout most of historical time, including now. When despots run out of ideas, they rarely turn to free trade as the solution. But instead they imagine themselves more capable of managing the affairs of their subjects than reality proves. And so, the lack of free trade inevitably turns to harsher and harsher methods to get results. Results which never come.
In the rare cases in which free trade was allowed, such as the early days of our tribe, the self-interest of some workers cause them to make the leap to creating value through ideas. At first slowly, and then more rapidly, ideas become used to reduce the amount of raw labor required by magnifying its effects. For example, the idea of harnessing animal power allows a field to be plowed far faster than a man could do with his own muscles alone. His muscles are still being used, but used to control a large meat tractor pulling a plow rather than by pulling the plow itself.
Evolutionary forces then kick into play. Individuals who use animals to plow do better than those who do all the plowing themselves. Similarly, tribes in which plowing by animal is considered a better thing than whipping people into pulling plows do a lot better, too. Even the shamans and their fear-based sacrifices from time to time don't make much of a difference compared to the vast difference caused by the effective use of energy.
Now, just because everyone in the tribe starts using plow animals does not make them idea workers. No, instead that one idea worker caused a radical change to the structure of the entire tribal economy. And then perhaps faded into the background as just another classical laborer, although perhaps empowered with a better tool.
And so, the growth of the idea worker, as a measurable portion of the workers overall, is very slow, but begins accelerating over time. Once at least one idea worker begins to be able to earn a living predominately through his ideas, the entire tribe begins to benefit in astonishing ways. Imagine if each month one idea worker in a tribe came up with an idea which was the equivalent of harnessing animals for agriculture. A single year of this sort of progress would take decades to propagate throughout the tribe, while a decade of this level of ideas would take generations.
Some tribes are more successful at encouraging idea workers, while other tribes are downright hostile to ideas and idea workers. The former, even if they steal th
e ideas, will tend to grow over time out of proportion to the quality of the labor component of their society. Provided of course, they at least do no harm to the idea workers themselves and provide them with at least subsistence. The latter sort of tribes, those which, say, stone idea workers to death, will tend to do more poorly.
The treatment of idea workers will correlate directly with how much the culture benefits from them. The more prosperous the idea workers become, the more incentivized they are to improve things for everyone. But, imagine, if you will, that a large country suddenly decided that it wanted to rid itself of lots and lots of smarty-pants. Embarking on a campaign of terror, rooting out anyone who was perhaps more productive or more thoughtful than his fellows, the country would probably kill off a lot of its future progress. Likely, however, would be that some of the good guys would survive and flee to somewhere else and start anew. Perhaps, say, on a few lightly inhabited islands just to the east. Or maybe on a few peninsulas in that general direction.
The gene pool which departed, even if they had to live in primitive conditions for hundreds of years, would still manage to make a good show of things. Their former barbarian home, on the other hand, would appear to an objective observer frozen in time.
Future historians might then wonder why the original country, which managed to invent so many wonderful things centuries or more ahead of everyone else, suddenly seemed to just stop dead still. Or maybe even move backwards a little bit as some great piece of technology somehow didn't make it on some despot's to-do list, he being more attentive to carving figures out of stone with his available whip-labor.