Bertrand Russell's "In Praise of Idleness": Amate dolce far niente? (Do you love doing nothing?), and why you find it hard to do

Dolce far Niente (The Sweetness of Doing Nothing) by John William Godward, 1904 (Public Domain)

Essay Notes: "In Praise of Idleness" by Bertrand Russell

Dolce far Niente: The sweetness of doing nothing, or, The Italian art of piddling about. Why is it so hard for Anglophones? Bertrand Russell provides some of the answers but there is a long history of academic thought to ensure that nobody, especially poor people, can simply do nothing. Think Malthus, Ricardo, Spencer, and the Fair Work Commission.

At first glance, such false consciousness all seems a bit stupid. But John Williams Godward, the artist whose painting adorns the top of this page, killed himself because the world was not large enough for both Pablo Picasso and himself. It would appear, then, that even people who revere the art of piddling about can also be really, really stupid.

Take, for instance, my boss back when I was doing a government traineeship in warehousing at age 18. I worked in hydraulic spare parts. One day, business was slow. I had reordered all the stock, sold everything I could, even worked on the bench to get a few smaller jobs out of the way for the tradesmen. I was bored.

So I got out the mop and bucket. A hydraulics workshop is quite oily, so kerosene is the cleaner of choice. I mopped the entire workshop, re-stacked and re-organised everything. At last, there was nothing to do, and I sat at my desk and twiddled my thumbs and waited for the telephone to ring

So my boss walks over to me and says:

I know you have worked really hard, and I know that you have tried to find everything possible to do, and I know there is nothing else for you to do. But I cannot bear the thought of having to pay for you to sit there and do nothing, so I want you to shuffle papers or something and look busy so I can feel OK about it.

No joke, he actually said that. And in those words, I was awakened to the absolute stupidity of work in its modern guise.

I recalled how everyone around me was judged by how they worked: "He's a good worker". I remember being praised that way myself, and my stupid ego would have me feeling chuffed as I worked harder still.

And then I remember hearing employers say "Give 'em an extra five cents an hour and call 'em a manager, and they'll do the work of three people".

Still, many people work hard their entire lives, but in the few years before they are eligible for the pension, and their body breaks down, they are treated like bludgers as they grovel for the disability pension. It is all beyond comprehension.

Apparently, there is "evidence" that reducing wages for weekend workers will increase jobs. Because teenagers (who work in retail on weekends) getting paid too much is a major driver of unemployment. Never mind false consciousness, this is fake consciousness. Russell picks up on this false economy.

But the big question is, what are we working for? Work has even cornered happiness, so it can't be for that!

Russell echoes Adam Smith in the parable of the pin makers, and Thorstein Veblen's Theory of the Leisure Class (which I am reading at the moment), and of course Karl Marx in opposition to Max Weber and the Protestant work ethic. I lived under this cloud in Queensland.

Then I left conservative Queensland in the late 1990s and moved to Canberra. It was a worker's paradise. No longer was my work based on presenteeism, or simply being at work, but on what I produced and the outcomes I achieved. I love Canberra for giving me the opportunity to escape the conservative stranglehold I had felt since birth.

Recently, however, I have questioned how far this might go, and how we might achieve our own ends only at the expense of others. Clearly, much of the issues Russell mentions is class-related. Yes, Australia has a class system, but unlike the United Kingdom, Australia vehemently pretends that it doesn't have a class system. But there are different global tiers of classes, too.

When I first learnt of Tim Ferriss' 4-Hour Workweek, I read critiques of his ideas about outsourcing mundane tasks to poorly paid workers in the developing world. This is indeed a conundrum.  If you are certain that not giving someone in the developing world a job is a good way to reduce global poverty, then fill your boots. Nonetheless, Ferriss' ideas are not necessarily about using other people to achieve our aims in a heartless manner.

The message I hear in Ferriss' work, class issues and the internationale aside, is that we do not need to work so much. There is actually no need for it.

Think of meetings. When I served as an army officer, orders groups (O groups) served an important purpose, and good operators could get important messages through the chain of command quickly, covering all bases.

These days, contemporary organisations see meetings as work. People spend all day in meetings, meetings which take up at least and most often more time than allocated, and then the attendees forget to pass on any of the decisions to the people who actually do the work. Yet those attending the meetings derive some absurd feeling of status and prowess that makes it feel like work.

Don't get me wrong, meetings are a necessary evil, but there is a reason I ask people the question "How many meetings did you achieve today?"

I'd often thought it was a lack of discipline in conducting O groups, but it seems it is more a case of the conundrum of finding things to do with our time that we can classify as work. The coal face is a lonely space these days. There used to be kids and everyone down there.

Children working in coal mines in Pennsylvania. Photograph: Janet Lindenmuth CC BY-SA 2.0

If you live the unexamined life, then work is more important than leisure. As Gary Gutting says:

The point is that engaging in such activities — and sharing them with others — is what makes a good life. Leisure, not work, should be our primary goal.

If you are doing life the wrong way around, it hasn't necessarily been your fault. But once you have read In Praise of Idleness, from then on it is your fault.

Bertrand Russell's essay is an important reminder of how far we have come, without really going anywhere. The trick for most workers is to fight fake consciousness and fake work with fake busy-ness. At least until the Great Leap Forward comes along. But good luck with that - you'd be better off just doing nothing. Dolce far Niente!

Book Notes: "Lady Rose's Daughter" by Mrs Humphrey Ward

Lady Rose's Daughter by Mary Augusta Ward

My rating: 3 of 5 stars

I decided to read this book because it was mentioned in an article on page 2 of the Goulburn Herald on 22 May 1903. I blogged about the article, which features my home town of Gunning, in October last year. It was the number one novel in the Publishers Weekly bestseller list in the United States for 1903. I understand that Mrs Humphrey Ward, as her use of her husband's name suggests, was an anti-suffragette. That the novel smacks of all things conservative does not take away from the brilliance of her work. I had some concerns over anachronisms in the novel, the plot clearly takes place after 1859, but is still regarded as being in the mid-nineteenth century by the characters, yet electric lights appeared in several scenes. Clearly the railway was a going concern. But after some research, I found that Punch magazine, which gets a number of guernseys in the novel, features the use of electric lights in London houses from as early as 1848 (Punch 1848, Vol. 15, p. 239), not to mention a satirical critique of electric lights (written by "a gas contractor"). Other reviewers have referred to Mrs Ward's "cardboard characters", and that may be true if one views the work as clichéd. However, one must remember that the book was written in 1903, over one hundred years before Downton Abbey, so Mrs Ward may be forgiven for being at the forefront of the re-imagining of Jane Austen in a mid-nineteenth century setting. If I am to take the background of the author into account, the novel is a victory for women who achieve success - when defined as social status and wealth - through their husbands, while at the same time winning a moral victory over the Sins of the Mother (a re-imagining of the proverbial). The pace of the novel was quite brisk, and I was captivated until the final forty or so pages, when the plot unfolds "like a long, slow accident" (Something for Kate's Stunt Show played over and over in my head as I read this part). The conclusion moved me and left me rather perplexed. It made be glad not to be a woman (in the Victorian sense of the word). And Mrs Humphrey Ward, brilliant as I find her work, in my imagination smiles smugly like a Liberal party member passing a lump of coal around parliament as history not only passes her by but would make her look silly if anyone else remembered her. But do read it - it is an excellent novel, even if the entire package serves as a caution for those who suffer from smug assuredness.

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Festival of Steam, Thirlmere, NSW, 5th March 2017

Locomotive 3642, built 1926. Preparing for the Thirlmere to Sydney trip, 5 March 2017.

I joined Transport Heritage NSW after a steam train came through Gunning last winter. We headed off this morning without umbrellas after looking at the 11% rain prediction on Google Weather. And then it began to pour.

By the time we got to Thirlmere, the rain had settled in. It was a bit of a walk from where we parked to the entrance. But we were lucky enough to buy reasonably priced umbrellas at the markets and, once I was sure my camera and my bag were all fine, the atmosphere of the festival started to work its magic on me.

The weather was a real downer. It was horrible. We wanted to visit the potter on the main stretch of the festival, but the footpath was a flowing creek that was impassable. Had the weather been fine, this would have been one of the best festivals I have been to in regional Australia. Hopefully next year it will be better, because I will be going back.

We had planned on driving to Picton for lunch, but the rain threw a spanner in the works. The festival was in full swing despite the rain, and we treated ourselves to a "Spartan Yiros", a Greek sandwich, from one of the many food stalls. It was delicious. Food included Korean, Turkish, Danish, and Asian, and there were stores selling model trains and clothes and all sorts of things.

There was a real vibe. Despite the rain, quite a few people turned out in their steam-punk finery. And the sound of steam engines and whistles amid old-timey music kept our spirits up as we headed towards the displays.

At the entrance, the Blues Preachers were playing. These guys didn't stop the whole time we were there and they were great. I love old-timey mountain music and they have the look and sound down pat. I bought two of their albums, Dead Catz Can Bounce and Dry So Long. The Blues Preachers completed a weekend of great music for us. We listened to it all the way home in the car.

As we entered the pavilion at Trainworks, we were greeted by a display of "steam train art". I bought a couple of postcards depicting steam trains in historical Australian settings. There were reasonably priced prints and some original oil paintings for sale. Check out www.steamtrainart.com.au if this style of art is your thing. I particularly liked the fly-fishing scenes.

Locomotive 2705 at Thirlmere Station

The highlight of the trip was the steam train ride to Buxton. Locomotive 2705 did the honours to Buxton (about 9km away), and the trailing diesel electric brought us back. The carriages were period six seaters in all their faded glory.

It took about 40 minutes or so for the round trip, but nobody really noticed. Despite the rain, every train trip at the festival was sold out. Spectators lined the track all the way along the route to take photos and wave as the lucky passengers rolled on by.

Click play below to hear the 2705's steam whistle.

There were other steam engines on display, including a model train setup with fully functioning, small-scale (shoebox size) steam engines, work trucks, showbags and show rides for children, in addition to the permanent collection at Trainworks.

There were a handful of classic work vehicles on display

If you missed the festival but are interested in what is happening in this space, there is an online exhibition from Transport Heritage NSW, and don't forget the National Film and Sound Archive's Public Transport online collection.

If the weather had been good, this would easily have been the best festival in regional Australia. I hope the effort for next year's festival remains undiminished, as I intend to be there again.

But book your ticket for the Festival of Steam early if you want to take a ride on the steam train. And if you are an enthusiast, support a worthy heritage project and join Transport Heritage NSW.

Part of the permanent collection at Thirlmere