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unism was not, after all, the whole truth, then nothing short of a
great new idea, based on Communism, could win the war and found a
tolerable social order. Sirius had always been sympathetic with the desire for revolutionary social change. His spell in the East End had shown
him how necessary it was. He had heartily agreed with the plea for common ownership of the means of production, and for creative social planning. But now that he had property to look after he found himself, much
to his own surprise, looking at the whole matter from a different angle.
"That's all quite true," he would say, 'but I'm a bit anxious about your
new order. Are you going to merge all the farms into great collective
farms? It all smells a bit dangerous. It's too theoretical. And what about
eccentric creative enterprises like Thomas's? And what on earth would
become of oddities like me, if I ever existed at all? The point is, who is to
do the social planning? It's all very well to say the people will do it, but
God save us from the people. Anyhow they can't really do it at all. Some
minority will do it, either mere demagogues or bosses. Somehow we
have to get the wide-awake people to do it. It's always the wide-awake
people who do everything worth while, really. The rest are just sheep."
"But surely," said Plaxy, "it's ordinary people that all the planning is for;
and so its the ordinary people that must settle the aims of all the planning, and control it. The wide-awakes are servants of the community.
The sheep-dogs serve the sheep." "Rot," said Sirius, "sheer tripe! The
dogs serve a master, who uses the sheep, and the dogs." Plaxy protested,
"But the people, if they are a free people, have no master but themselves.
The people as a whole are the master." "No, no!" cried Sirius. "You might
as well say the sheep as a whole are the master. I, at any rate, acknowledge only one master, not forty-five million two-legged sheep, or two
thousand million, but simply and absolutely the spirit." The answer
came promptly. "But who is to say what the spirit demands? Who is to
interpret the spirit?" "Why, the spirit itself, of course." he replied.
"working in the minds of its servants, its sheep-dogs, the wide-awake
people." "But, Sirius. dear, dangerous, ridiculous darling, that's the way
straight to Fascism. There's a leader who knows, and the rest do what
they're told. And there's a Party of faithful sheep-dogs who make them
do it." Sirius protested, "But a Fascist Party is not made up of wide-awake
people. Its members don't really know at all what the spirit is. They don't
know the smell of it. They can't hear its voice. All they can ever be, even
at their best is just sheep-dogs run amok, wild sheep-dogs, wolves under
a wolf leader." "But, Sirius, my own, don't you see, that's just what they
would say about us. Who is to judge between us?" He had his answer