This was part of an essay I wrote back in Fall of 2008 on the concepts of Marxism and how it contrast with today’s ideologies of modern Canadian lifestyles. This analogy was written well before the economic collapse of the latter half of that year and proves that there was enough forecasters during that time to properly estimate that an economic disaster was eminent. The main thesis was on ethics and professional conduct, although many portions of the assay are omitted, the general tone of the it was to compare the clashes in thinking between the left and right and to see if social harmony was possible without any compromise.
Let me tell you a story about a man, a box, and two men who claimed that everything was theirs. Picture if you will, a dark and dusty factory floor that was all but vacant, abandon, emptied of its former occupants. Large machines sit motionless with dust and cobwebs stretched from every protruding piece. One lamp from the ceiling is all that lights the big empty room, and painted covered windows which only lets in tiny slivers of light from the out side that can be seen as bright rays shooting through the dust onto the floor. In the middle of this room is a man working away building a wooden box, one about the size of crate, so that he can put some of the machinery into it and ship it off to a distant land where it will work once again making merchandise for another factory.
At one end of the factory, in a small room with a desk, sits a fat man who is busy pushing buttons on his adding machine, tallying up all of the numbers of items that the factory produced that day, and converting it into money, his profits. He stops for a brief moment and pulls out a cigar, lights it, and takes a few hardy puffs from it, then bites down on it between his teeth and continues tapping away on the keys of the adding machine. He is happy. He makes humming sounds of a happy melody, and his eyes beam with positive enthusiasm the longer the ribbon of paper becomes from the adding machine.
At the other end of the factory in another room that shares several desks, sit a man in a black suit at the middle desk, and he is happy, as he hums a happy song. He is writing a list onto a writing pad. He grabs the desk lamp to repositions the light so that is now shining right over top of the paper. He opens a drawer from in front of the desk and pulls out a yellow file-folder from it and lays it squarely on the desk over top of the writing pad. He unfolds the file folder and pulls out several printed documents that have rows and columns of numbers and words on them. He pulls out a single sheet from the folder and then puts the yellow file folder back in the drawer. He then starts writing again, copying from the paper onto his writing pad, humming even louder with happiness with each pen stroke.
The wooden box is almost compete as the last few nails are hammered into it. The factory worker checks to see if all the corners are square and that no panel of wood is loose or unfastened from the wooden frame is sits on. With his rough firm hands he feels the texture of the wood by gliding his palms over the surface, a sign of his craftsmanship and experience. The wooden box is sound and ready for its purpose by its creator.
Both doors opened simultaneously from each office at each end of the factory, and both men walk towards where the factory worker who has build the crate is sitting. They both stopped, standing opposite each other staring at the wooden crate, the fat man with his ribbon of paper from the adding machine, and the man with the black suit holding his writing pad and pen. The factory worker puts down his tools and wipes the sweat from his forehead with a white cloth that he keeps in his back pants pocket.
Both the fat man and the man with the black suit turn to the worker and begin to tell him what they would like placed into the crate, and where it is to be shipped off to. The worker informs them both that all of the items will not fit into the crate, and that it would be impossible for the shipping company to deliver the same crate to two different locations.
The worker sits in silence as the two men walk back to their respected sides of the factory and the sounds of their doors slamming reverberate throughout the building. There in the middle of the factory floor sits the crate after the worker has gone, taking all of his tools.
There was only enough money to pay the worker and to purchase enough materials to complete only one crate and have it built. Because there was such a demand for the worker, the crate and the means to ship it, both the fat man and the man with the black suit had to fill their orders in order to make enough profit to pay for them all.
Next post I will add part 2 to this because I incorporated a series of reasons why I compared this to the economic collapse of 2008.