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Credits

8
Preface
College students today are more anxious about their futures than in the past, particularly
with respect to their places in the world of work. The social contract that promised
steadily increasing wages and secure employment has unraveled, leaving many
uncertain about their lives and livelihoods. In these times, a sociological perspective on
work is more important than ever. Analysis and understanding of the societal conditions
that shape people’s work lives may be the best tools for conquering their anxiety and
uncertainty. To prepare for and reshape the future demands knowledge of the social
forces that influenced the past and help structure the present.
The study of work is central to the discipline of sociology. From the Industrial
Revolution to the service economy, sociologists have contributed much to our
understanding of the forces shaping workers’ lives and the workplace. This anthology
contains a sampling of some of the best that sociologists of work have to offer. Through
a variety of methods and approaches, the readings address several pertinent questions
about the American workplace: What are the most significant factors shaping workers’
lives and workplaces in the twenty- first century? How has the workplace changed in the
past few decades? What trends are likely to be most influential for the workplace of the
future? By examining how sociologists have pursued answers to these questions, I hope
students will acquire tools to address their own concerns and come away better equipped
to make sense of their past, present, and future work experiences.
Selecting the readings for this anthology was both a challenge and a pleasure. It was
challenging because my colleagues have produced such a tremendous amount of
valuable research on the workplace that I could have filled several volumes easily;
deciding what to exclude was a difficult task. At the same time, compiling these readings
provided me an opportunity to explore and appreciate sociologists’ contributions to our
knowledge about workers and work. This process reaffirmed my belief that a sociological
perspective remains the best vantage point from which to understand the social world.
In the end, the readings that appear here were selected with several considerations in
mind. First, I aimed for a degree of comprehensiveness in the coverage of topics. While
no anthology can address everything, anthologies remain one of the best vehicles for
presenting information to students on a range of topics. Second, I wanted to present the
key pieces of research in a particular area. I include some classics, but primarily use
examples of contemporary research that have made an impact. Third, attending to
gender, racial, and ethnic differentiation in the workplace was important to me. Hence,
these issues are addressed throughout the anthology. Finally, I selected readings with a
student audience in mind. When all is said and done, this anthology is for them.

9
Changes to the Fourth Edition

The American workplace is constantly changing, and the selections in this fourth edition
aim to capture some of those developments. With the exception of Part I, all of the
readings in this edition are new. Despite this change, the book remains true to the
themes guiding earlier editions, while showcasing recent research on the contemporary
workplace:

There is no one single issue that characterizes the new economic era. The four
readings in Part II aim to capture some of this era’s most distinctive elements,
such as the global division of labor, the 24/7 economy and the growth of a
flexible, contingent workforce, and the continuing commodification of personal
life.
Services make up a significant proportion of the US economy. The wide-ranging
collection of service occupations discussed in Part III provides an opportunity to
explore many aspects of the organization and experience of work in today’s
economy.
The readings in the “Work and Inequality” section examine enduring issues of
workplace inequality across multiple dimensions, including gender, race, sexual
orientation, and immigrant status. This section also takes a look at Americans’
beliefs about income inequality and how these beliefs have changed over time.
The complex and increasingly blurred relations between work and family
represent one of the most salient features of the new economic era. The readings
in Part IV examine these issues from the perspectives of mothers, fathers, and
employers and consider strategies and prospects for workplace change.
The “General Introduction” has been revised. Discussion questions appear at the
conclusion of each part.

As with previous editions, the amount of cutting-edge sociological research on the


workplace far exceeds what I have been able to include here. Nevertheless, I hope that
the selections I have included will inform and inspire readers to think more critically
about the contemporary workplace and the global society in which we live.

10
Acknowledgments

Intellectual work is, at its best, a collective enterprise. In editing this anthology, I
benefited from the valuable comments and suggestions of many colleagues around the
country. I would like to thank Dean Birkenkamp at Paradigm for his enthusiastic support
for this new edition and his persistence in helping get it off the ground. I am especially
grateful to all of the book’s contributors, whose research and writing on workers and the
workplace made this anthology possible.

—Amy S. Wharton

11
General Introduction
The global economy is emerging from the greatest economic slump since the Great
Depression. In previous recessions, a relatively rapid return to business-as-usual was the
norm. Recovery from the recession of 2007–2009 has been much slower. Unemployment
in the United States has gradually declined from its peak of 10.0 percent in October 2009,
but has not yet returned to pre-recession levels (US Bureau of Labor Statistics 2012).
Further, US unemployment rates at the end of the recession were higher than in most
other industrialized countries (US Bureau of Labor Statistics 2012). Almost 11 million
people in the United States were unemployed as of December 2013 (Wood 2014). Wages
for all but the highest earners have stagnated, and income inequality is an issue that has
inspired social movements and gained worldwide attention (McCall 2013). Uncertainty
about the economy and the labor market is high.
Predicting the future is never easy. It is impossible to know whether the slow
economic recovery signals a long-term change in the US labor market and what the
future holds for the next generation of workers. However, in times of prosperity or
recession, in periods of uncertainty or stability, a sociological examination of work
provides a platform from which to understand the larger social and economic landscape.
Though this anthology focuses mainly on the contemporary workplace, it also looks at
workplaces of the past and the future through a critical sociological lens.
Work is among the most important social institutions. Toward the end of the
nineteenth century and the early part of the twentieth century, sociologists Karl Marx,
Max Weber, and Emile Durkheim placed work at the center of their theoretical
frameworks. Contemplating the development of capitalism in the West and the
burgeoning Industrial Revolution, these foundational sociological theorists understood
that the organization of work helps to determine the fates of both individuals and the
societies they make up.
Three major themes guided the selection of readings for this anthology. One reflects a
methodological concern, one stems from an empirical observation, and the third
emphasizes conceptual and theoretical issues. Each theme has continuity with past
efforts to understand the American workplace, yet each also directs attention to
important questions about the present and future. The first theme is that workers’ lives
are shaped not only by daily life on the job but also by larger trends that are
transforming work in the country and around the globe. This theme has methodological
implications because it suggests that any study of work must concern itself not only with
workers’ experiences but also with the larger historical, economic, and social contexts
within which these experiences occur. Multiple levels of analysis are thus necessary to
address the important questions in the sociology of work. A second major theme relates
to the composition of the workforce and the characteristics of workers themselves. The
twenty-first-century labor force is demographically more diverse than ever, and this

12
changing demography plays an important role in the organization and experience of
work. Like society as a whole, the American workplace comprises people from different
racial and ethnic backgrounds, genders, ages, religions, and sexual orientations—to name
but a few characteristics. Sociologists believe that we cannot fully understand work
without also considering the characteristics of the people who perform it.
A third theme of this book is perhaps the most significant to sociologists: Work is not
strictly an instrumental activity, nor can it be understood only in economic terms.
Instead, as Friedland and Robertson (1990, p. 25) explain: “Work provides identities as
much as it provides bread for the table; participation in commodity and labor markets is
as much an expression of who you are as what you want.” Moreover, from this
perspective, work is not an isolated institution, closed off from the rest of society, but is
profoundly interconnected with the larger social world. Not only are its boundaries
permeable, subjecting the workplace to influences from other institutions, but the
influence of work on other aspects of society is also great. Indeed, work shapes every
aspect of life—from people’s conceptions of self to the degree of inequality in a society.
Through the years, sociologists of work have disagreed over which effects of work they
consider most important, but there has been no dispute with the basic premise that the
study of work is a vehicle for examining some of the most fundamental aspects of social
life.

13
Linking Micro and Macro in Sociological Studies of Work

Like the field of sociology as a whole, teaching and scholarship in the sociology of work
reflect a range of approaches, which typically have been characterized as either micro or
macro. Micro-level approaches tend to focus on individuals or small groups in a
particular workplace and examine processes or outcomes that operate at these levels of
analysis. Though micro-level research is by no means all ethnographic, many of these
researchers prefer qualitative methodologies that allow for close, in-depth scrutiny of
particular social phenomena. Indeed, there is a long and rich tradition of micro- level,
ethnographic research in the sociology of work. This research has provided useful
accounts of many jobs, offering students a way to vicariously experience life as a worker
in a machine shop, a medical student, a flight attendant, or an employee of McDonald’s
(Roy 1959; Becker, Geer, Hughes, and Strauss 1961; Hochschild 1983; Leidner 1993).
In contrast, macro-level studies in the sociology of work tend to be less concerned
with workers’ experiences and more attentive to larger processes, trends, and outcomes.
Studies of this type typically analyze data collected from representative samples of
people, jobs, or workplaces and seek to identify patterns and relationships between key
variables. Macro-level research thus is often quantitative, driven by the desire to test
hypotheses or produce generalizable results. Sociological studies of wage determination,
for example, attempt to explain what factors determine the “worth” of jobs and account
for why some jobs command higher wages than others (Tomaskovic-Devey 1993).
Micro and macro research traditions are often perceived as distinct, and sometimes
even conflicting, approaches. Courses in the sociology of work have thus sometimes
emphasized one or the other, but not both. Ideally, however, micro and macro studies
should inform one another, as no single approach can ever address everything.
Moreover, in my view, important sociological questions cannot be answered by only one
type of study or approach. For example, to understand the role of race in the workplace
we need both fine-grained, ethnographic studies and large-scale, quantitative analyses.
The former can help us understand such issues as workers’ experiences of discrimination
(e.g., Wingfield 2010), while the latter may address such questions as the racial gap in
earnings or the structure and consequences of racial segregation in the workplace
(Stainback and Tomaskovic-Devey 2012). This view is reflected in this anthology, as it
incorporates studies employing diverse methodologies and approaches. By studying both
the micro and the macro dimensions of work, we can begin to see how work is shaped
by its social context and, conversely, how workplace dynamics may shape the larger
society.

14
The Changing Demographics of the
Workplace
Demographic changes are reshaping the workplace in the United States and elsewhere.
The baby boom generation is aging, and those workers are moving out of the labor force
in large numbers. One result of this has been a steady decline since the late 1990s in the
overall rate of labor force participation in the United States (Toossi 2012). The
composition of the labor force is also continuing to change. Not only is the labor force
older than in earlier decades, it contains more women than in the past and continues to
become more diverse along racial and ethnic lines. The share of the labor force that is
white, non-Hispanic continues to decline. By 2050, white, non-Hispanics are projected to
account for just over 50 percent of the US labor force, down from 73 percent in 2000
(Toossi 2012). Despite this diversity, jobs and workplaces continue to be highly
segregated along gender, racial, and ethnic lines. The continuing association between
jobs and workers of a particular gender, race, or ethnic background suggests that these
social categories are as powerful in shaping life inside the workplace as they have been
shown to be in shaping other societal institutions.
Gender, race, and ethnicity in the workplace are often studied through a focus on
discrimination and inequality, and this remains an important set of topics. Despite
widespread social changes, as well as the passage of legislation and social policies
designed to prevent discrimination and reduce inequality, the costs and rewards of work
remain unevenly distributed across social categories. The desire to understand the
sources of these work-related inequalities, the forces that perpetuate them, and the
consequences of these inequalities for workers and their families has generated a
tremendous amount of research. We thus know a great deal about some aspects of
gender, racial, and ethnic inequality in the workplace. Changes in the organization of
work brought on by a global economy and the changing demography of workers raise
new questions for analysis, however.
The impacts of gender, race, and ethnicity on the workplace are not confined to their
role in producing inequality and discrimination, nor do these factors only affect the
personal consequences of work. Rather, at a more fundamental level, sociologists argue
that the structure and organization of work also reflect the influences of gender, race,
and ethnicity. From this perspective, gender, race, and ethnicity are not just
characteristics of workers but may also be considered characteristics of work roles and
jobs, or seen as embedded in work structure and organization (Acker 1991).
Understanding how the workplace is gendered and racialized commands significant
attention from sociologists of work. Addressing these issues requires us to examine how
work structures and practices that may appear neutral in design or application may
nevertheless contribute to the construction and maintenance of gender and racial

15
distinctions in the workplace. By including issues pertaining to gender, race, and
ethnicity throughout this anthology, instead of concentrating them exclusively in a
section on discrimination, readers can see the many ways in which these social
categories shape work experience and organization.

16
Work and Society

Viewing work through a sociological lens enables consideration of the varied ways in
which work and society interrelate. For example, at the individual level, work shapes
identity, values, and beliefs, as well as a host of other outcomes ranging from mental and
physical health to political attitudes. Negative health consequences have been associated
with working too many hours or working too few, and both extremes are common in the
current economic era (Jacobs and Gerson 2004). For many professionals or managers,
work is a “greedy” institution, with ever-increasing demands on people’s time, emotional
energies, and commitments (Moen, Lam, Ammons, and Kelly 2013). For others, work is
precarious and insecure. A lack of access to employment creates its own set of problems,
especially for US workers who depend on employers for access to insurance and other
types of benefits (Kalleberg 2011).
One often overlooked feature of work is that it typically brings people into contact
with others—coworkers, subordinates, supervisors, and, increasingly for many, the
public. Social interaction and intergroup relations are just as important in the workplace
as they are in other social arenas. An early, influential sociological study first called
attention to the ways that the social relations of work shaped workers’ reactions to their
jobs (Mayo 1933). For contemporary researchers, this insight is reflected in studies of
work teams, coworker relations, and especially interactions between workers and their
clients and customers (Lopez 2010). The content and quality of workplace relationships
matter for understanding the consequences and significance of work. Workplaces are
settings in which both expressive and instrumental ties between people are important,
not only for understanding workers’ responses to their jobs, but also for understanding
the broader ways in which work shapes meanings and life experience.
Although the workplace has never been truly separate from other societal institutions
and trends, its interdependence with the larger environment has perhaps never been
greater. Societal changes, such as women’s rising labor force participation, declining
birth rates, and changing gender roles, have transformed relations between families and
work. Juggling work and family commitments is a challenge for families across the
occupational spectrum and has drawn attention from employers and policy-makers
throughout the industrialized world (Moen and Roehling 2005). Technology has also
contributed to changed relations between work and nonwork. By enabling people to
work anytime, anywhere, mobile devices have helped to blur, if not completely
eliminate, the boundaries between these two realms (Perlow 2012). These trends have
pushed sociologists to develop new conceptual approaches to understanding relations
between work and other institutions. The field has moved away from rigid dichotomies,
such as public and private or impersonal and personal, that compartmentalized work and
family life toward more complex portrayals of these social institutions and those who

17
negotiate work-family boundaries. Neither work nor family, or the relations between
them, are static, but rather they reflect and are responsive to developments in the wider
society.
Peoples’ lives in all economic eras are largely dependent on forces emanating from the
workplace. The organization, availability, and quality of work determine the social and
economic wellbeing of individuals, neighborhoods, cities, and societies. Work is thus
among the most important social institutions, with influential consequences for all
arenas of social life.

18
References

Acker, Joan. 1991. “Hierarchies, Jobs, Bodies: A Theory of Gendered Organizations.” Pp.
162–179 in The Social Construction of Gender, edited by Judith Lorber and Susan A.
Farrell. Newbury Park, CA: Sage Publications.

Becker, Howard S., Blanche Geer, Everett C. Hughes, and Anselm L. Strauss. 1961. Boys
in White: Student Culture in Medical School. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

Hochschild, Arlie Russell. 1983. The Managed Heart. Berkeley: University of California
Press.

Jacobs, Jerry A., and Kathleen Gerson. 2004. The Time Divide: Work, Family, and Gender
Inequality. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

Kalleberg, Arne L. 2011. Good Jobs, Bad Jobs: The Rise of Polarized and Precarious
Employment Systems in the United States, 1970s–2000s. New York: Russell Sage
Foundation.

Kanter, Rosabeth Moss. 1977. Work and Family. New York: Russell Sage Foundation.

Leidner, Robin. 1993. Fast Food, Fast Talk: Service Work and the Routinization of
Everyday Life. Berkeley: University of California Press.

Lopez, Steven Henry. 2010. “Workers, Managers, and Customers: Triangles of Power in
Work Communities.” Work and Occupations 37: 251–271.

Mayo, Elton. 1933. The Human Problems of an Industrial Civilization. New York: The
Macmillan Company.

McCall, Leslie. 2013. The Undeserving Rich: American Beliefs about Inequality,
Opportunity, and Redistribution. New York: Cambridge University Press.

Moen, Phyllis, Jack Lam, Samantha Ammons, and Erin L. Kelly. 2013. “Time Work by
Overworked Professionals: Strategies in Response to the Stress of Higher Status.” Work
and Occupations 40: 79–114.

Moen, Phyllis, and Patricia Roehling. 2005. The Career Mystique: Cracks in the American
Dream. New York: Rowman & Littlefield.

Perlow, Leslie. 2012. Sleeping with Your Smartphone: How to Break the 24/7 Habit and
Change the Way You Work. Cambridge, MA: Harvard Business Review Press.

19
Roy, Donald. 1959. “‘Banana Time’: Job Satisfaction and Informal Interaction.” Human
Organization 18: 158–168.

Stainback, Kevin, and Donald Tomaskovic-Devey. 2012. Documenting Desegregation:


Racial and Gender Segregation in Private-Sector Employment Since the Civil Rights Act.
New York: Russell Sage.

Tomaskovic-Devey, Donald. 1993. Gender and Racial Inequality at Work. Ithaca, NY: ILR
Press.

Toossi, Mitra. 2012. “Labor Force Projections to 2020: A More Slowly Growing Labor
Force.” Monthly Labor Review 135: 43–64.

US Bureau of Labor Statistics. 2012. The Recession of 2007–2009. Retrieved from:


http://www.bls.gov/spotlight/2012/recession/pdf/recession_bls_spotlight.pdf.

Wingfield, Adia Harvey. 2010. “Are Some Emotions Marked ‘Whites Only’? Racialized
Feeling Rules in Professional Workplaces.” Social Problems 57: 251–268.

Wood, Catherine A. 2014. “Unemployment Continued Its Downward Trend in 2013.”


Monthly Labor Review. Retrieved from:
http://www.bls.gov/opub/mlr/2014/article/unemployment-continued-its-downward-
trend-in-2013.htm.

20
Part I
Conceptual Foundations

21
1
Alienated Labour
Karl Marx

We have proceeded from the premises of political economy. We have accepted its
language and its laws. We presupposed private property, the separation of labor, capital
and land, and of wages, profit of capital and rent of land— likewise division of labor,
competition, the concept of exchange value, etc. On the basis of political economy itself,
in its own words, we have shown that the worker sinks to the level of a commodity and
becomes indeed the most wretched of commodities; that the wretchedness of the worker
is in inverse proportion to the power and magnitude of his production; that the necessary
result of competition is the accumulation of capital in a few hands, and thus the
restoration of monopoly in a more terrible form; and that finally the distinction between
capitalist and landlord, like that between the farmer and the factory worker, disappears
and that the whole of society must fall apart into the two classes—property owners and
propertyless workers.
Political economy starts with the fact of private property; it does not explain it to us. It
expresses in general, abstract formulas the material process through which private
property actually passes, and these formulas it then takes for laws. It does not
comprehend these laws—i.e., it does not demonstrate how they arise from the very
nature of private property. Political economy throws no light on the cause of the division
between labor and capital, and between capital and land. When, for example, it defines
the relationship of wages to profit, it takes the interest of the capitalists to be the
ultimate cause, i.e., it takes for granted what it is supposed to explain. Similarly,
competition comes in everywhere. It is explained from external circumstances. As to
how far these external and apparently accidental circumstances are but the expression of
a necessary course of development, political economy teaches us nothing. We have seen
how exchange itself appears to it as an accidental fact. The only wheels which political
economy sets in motion are greed, and the war among the greedy, competition.
Precisely because political economy does not grasp the way the movement is
connected, it was possible to oppose, for instance, the doctrine of competition to the
doctrine of monopoly, the doctrine of craft freedom to the doctrine of the guild, the
doctrine of the division of landed property to the doctrine of the big estate. For
competition, freedom of the crafts and the division of landed property were explained
and comprehended only as accidental, premeditated and violent consequences of
monopoly, of the guild system, and of feudal property, not as their necessary, inevitable
and natural consequences.
Now, therefore, we have to grasp the intrinsic connection between private property,

22
greed, the separation of labor, capital and landed property; the connection of exchange
and competition, of value and the devaluation of man, of monopoly and competition, etc.
— the connection between this alienationand the money system.
Do not let us go back to a fictitious primordial condition as the political economist
does, when he tries to explain. Such a primordial condition explains nothing; it merely
pushes the question away into a grey nebulous distance. The economist assumes in the
form of a fact, of an event, what he is supposed to deduce— namely, the necessary
relationship between two things—between, for example, division of labor and exchange.
Thus the theologian explains the origin of evil by the fall of Man—that is, he assumes as
a fact, in historical form, what has to be explained.
We proceed from an actual economic fact:
The worker becomes all the poorer the more wealth he produces, the more his
production increases in power and size. The worker becomes an ever cheaper commodity
the more commodities he creates. The devaluation of the world of men is in direct
proportion to the increasing value of the world of things. Labor produces not only
commodities; it produces itself and the worker as a commodity—and this at the same rate
at which it produces commodities in general.
This fact expresses merely that the object which labor produces—labor’s product—
confronts it as something alien, as a power independent of the producer. The product of
labor is labor which has been embodied in an object, which has become material: it is the
objectification of labor. Labor’s realization is its objectification. Under these economic
conditions this realization of labor appears as loss of realization for the workers[1];
objectification as loss of the object and bondage to it; appropriation as estrangement, as
alienation.[2]
So much does the labor’s realization appear as loss of realization that the worker loses
realization to the point of starving to death. So much does objectification appear as loss
of the object that the worker is robbed of the objects most necessary not only for his life
but for his work. Indeed, labor itself becomes an object which he can obtain only with
the greatest effort and with the most irregular interruptions. So much does the
appropriation of the object appear as estrangement that the more objects the worker
produces the less he can possess and the more he falls under the sway of his product,
capital.
All these consequences are implied in the statement that the worker is related to the
product of labor as to an alien object. For on this premise it is clear that the more the
worker spends himself, the more powerful becomes the alien world of objects which he
creates over and against himself, the poorer he himself—his inner world—becomes, the
less belongs to him as his own. It is the same in religion. The more man puts into God,
the less he retains in himself. The worker puts his life into the object; but now his life no
longer belongs to him but to the object. Hence, the greater this activity, the more the
worker lacks objects. Whatever the product of his labor is, he is not. Therefore, the
greater this product, the less is he himself. The alienation of the worker in his product
means not only that his labor becomes an object, an external existence, but that it exists

23
outside him, independently, as something alien to him, and that it becomes a power on
its own confronting him. It means that the life which he has conferred on the object
confronts him as something hostile and alien.
Let us now look more closely at the objectification, at the production of the worker;
and in it at the estrangement of the object, the loss of his product.
The worker can create nothing without nature, without the sensuous external world. It
is the material on which his labor is realized, in which it is active, from which, and by
means of which it produces.
But just as nature provides labor with [the] means of life in the sense that labor
cannot live without objects on which to operate, on the other hand, it also provides the
means of life in the more restricted sense, i.e., the means for the physical subsistence of
the worker himself.
Thus the more the worker, by his labor, appropriates the external world, sensuous
nature, the more he deprives himself of the means of life in two respects: first, in that the
sensuous external world more and more ceases to be an object belonging to his labor—to
be his labor’s means of life; and, second, in that it increasingly ceases to be a means of
life in the immediate sense, means for the physical subsistence of the worker.
In both respects, therefore, the worker becomes a servant of his object, first, in that he
receives an object of labor, i.e., in that he receives work, and, secondly, in that he receives
means of subsistence. This enables him to exist, first as a worker; and second, as a
physical subject. The height of this servitude is that it is only as a worker that he can
maintain himself as a physical subject and that it is only as a physical subject that he is a
worker.
(According to the economic laws the estrangement of the worker in his object is
expressed thus: the more the worker produces, the less he has to consume; the more
values he creates, the more valueless, the more unworthy he becomes; the better formed
his product, the more deformed becomes the worker; the more civilized his object, the
more barbarous becomes the worker; the more powerful labor becomes, the more
powerless becomes the worker; the more ingenious labor becomes, the less ingenious
becomes the worker and the more he becomes nature’s slave.)
Political economy conceals the alienation inherent in the nature of labor by not
considering the direct relationship between the worker (labor) and production. It is true
that labor produces for the rich wonderful things—but for the worker it produces
privation. It produces palaces—but for the worker, hovels. It produces beauty—but for the
worker, debilitation. It replaces labor by machines, but it throws one section of the
workers back into barbarous types of labor and it turns the other section into machines.
It produces intelligence and culture—but for the worker, stupidity, and idiocy.
The direct relationship of labor to its products is the relationship of the worker to the
objects of his production. The relationship of the individual of means to the objects of
production and to production itself is only a consequence of this first relationship—and
confirms it. We shall consider this other aspect later. When we ask, then, what is the
essential relationship of labor we are asking about the relationship of the worker to

24
production.
Till now we have been considering, the alienation of the worker only in one of its
aspects, i.e., the worker’s relationship to the products of his labor. But the estrangement
is manifested not only in the result but in the act of production, within the producing
activity, itself. How could the worker come to face the product of his activity as a
stranger, were it not that in the very act of production he was estranging himself from
himself? The product is after all but the summary of the activity, of production. If then
the product of labor is alienation, production itself must be active alienation, the
alienation of activity, the activity of alienation. In the estrangement of the object of labor
is merely the summary of the alienation, in the activity of labor itself.
What, then, constitutes the externalization and alienation of labor?
First, the fact that labor is external to the worker, i.e., it does not belong to his intrinsic
nature; that in his work, therefore, he does not affirm himself but denies himself, does
not feel content but unhappy, does not develop freely his physical and mental energy but
mortifies his body and ruins his mind. The worker therefore only feels himself outside
his work, and in his work feels outside himself. He feels at home when he is not
working, and when he is working he does not feel at home. His labor is therefore not
voluntary, but coerced; it is forced labor. It is therefore not the satisfaction of a need; it is
merely a means to satisfy needs external to it. Its alien character emerges clearly in the
fact that as soon as no physical or other compulsion exists, labor is shunned like the
plague. External labor, labor in which man alienates himself, is a labor of self- sacrifice,
of mortification. Lastly, the external character of labor for the worker appears in the fact
that it is not his own, but someone else’s, that it does not belong to him, that in it he
belongs, not to himself, but to another. Just as in religion the spontaneous activity of the
human imagination, of the human brain and the human heart, operates on the individual
independently of him—that is, operates as an alien, divine or diabolical activity—so is the
worker’s activity not his spontaneous activity. It belongs to another; it is the loss of his
self.
As a result, therefore, man (the worker) only feels himself freely active in his animal
functions—eating, drinking, procreating, or at most in his dwelling and in his dress.; and
in his human functions he no longer feels himself to be anything but an animal. What is
animal becomes human and what is human becomes animal.
Certainly eating, drinking, procreating, etc., are also genuinely human functions. But
taken abstractly, separated from the sphere of all other human activity and turned into
sole and ultimate ends, they are animal functions.
We have considered the act of estranging practical human activity, labor, in two of its
aspects.
(1) The relation of the worker to the product of labor as an alien object exercising
power over him. This relation is at the same time the relation to the sensuous external
world, to the objects of nature, as an alien world inimically opposed to him.
(2) The relation of labor to the act of production within the labor process. This relation
is the relation of the worker to his own activity as an alien activity not belonging to him;

25
it is activity as suffering, strength as weakness, begetting as emasculating, the worker’s
own physical and mental energy, his personal life—for what is life but activity?—as an
activity which is turned against him, independent of him and not belonging to him. Here
we have self-alienation, as previously we had the alienation of the thing.

We have still a third aspect of estranged labor to deduce from the two already
considered.
Man is a species-being[3], not only because in practice and in theory he adopts the
species (his own as well as those of other things) as his object, but—and this is only
another way of expressing it—also because he treats himself as the actual, living species;
because he treats himself as a universal and therefore a free being.
The life of the species, both in man and in animals, consists physically in the fact that
man (like the animal) lives from inorganic nature; and the more universal man (or the
animal) is, the more universal is the sphere of inorganic nature on which he lives. Just as
plants, animals, stones, air, light, etc., constitute theoretically a part of human
consciousness, partly as objects of natural science, partly as objects of art—his spiritual
inorganic nature, spiritual nourishment which he must first prepare to make palatable
and digestible—so also in the realm of practice they constitute a part of human life and
human activity. Physically man lives only on these products of nature, whether they
appear in the form of food, heating, clothes, a dwelling, etc. The universality of man
appears in practice precisely in the universality which makes all nature his inorganic
body—both inasmuch as nature is (1) his direct means of life, and (2) the material, the
object, and the instrument of his life activity. Nature is man’s inorganic body—nature,
that is, insofar as it is not itself human body. Man lives on nature— means that nature is
his body, with which he must remain in continuous interchange if he is not to die. That
man’s physical and spiritual life is linked to nature means simply that nature is linked to
itself, for man is a part of nature.
In estranging from man (1) nature, and (2) himself, his own active functions, his life
activity, estranged labor estranges the species from man. It changes for him the life of the
species into a means of individual life. First it estranges the life of the species and
individual life, and secondly it makes individual life in its abstract form the purpose of
the life of the species, likewise in its abstract and alienated form.
For labor, life activity, productive life itself, appears to man in the first place merely as
a means of satisfying a need—the need to maintain physical existence. Yet the productive
life is the life of the species. It is life- engendering life. The whole character of a species,
its species-character, is contained in the character of its life activity; and free, conscious
activity is man’s species- character. Life itself appears only as a means to life.
The animal is immediately one with its life activity. It does not distinguish itself from
it. It is its life activity. Man makes his life activity itself the object of his will and of his
consciousness. He has conscious life activity. It is not a determination with which he
directly merges. Conscious life activity distinguishes man immediately from animal life
activity. It is just because of this that he is a species-being. Or it is only because he is a

26
species- being that he is a conscious being, i.e., that his own life is an object for him.
Only because of that is his activity free activity. Estranged labor reverses the
relationship, so that it is just because man is a conscious being that he makes his life
activity, his essential being, a mere means to his existence.
In creating a world of objects by his personal activity, in his work upon inorganic
nature, man proves himself a conscious species- being, i.e., as a being that treats the
species as his own essential being, or that treats itself as a species-being. Admittedly
animals also produce. They build themselves nests, dwellings, like the bees, beavers, ants,
etc. But an animal only produces what it immediately needs for itself or its young. It
produces one-sidedly, whilst man produces universally. The animal produces only under
the dominion of immediate physical need, whilst man produces even when he is free
from physical need and only truly produces in freedom therefrom. An animal produces
only itself, whilst man reproduces the whole of nature. An animal’s product belongs
immediately to its physical body, whilst man freely confronts his product. An animal
forms only in accordance with the standard and the need of the species to which it
belongs, whilst man knows how to produce in accordance with the standard of every
species, and knows how to apply everywhere the inherent standard to the object. Man
therefore also forms objects in accordance with the laws of beauty.
It is just in his work upon the objective world, therefore, that man really proves
himself to be a species-being. This production is his active species-life. Through this
production, nature appears as his work and his reality. The object of labor is, therefore,
the objectification of man’s species-life: for he duplicates himself not only, as in
consciousness, intellectually, but also actively, in reality, and therefore he sees himself in
a world that he has created. In tearing away from man the object of his production,
therefore, estranged labor tears from him his species-life, his real objectivity as a member
of the species and transforms his advantage over animals into the disadvantage that his
inorganic body, nature, is taken from him.
Similarly, in degrading spontaneous, free activity to a means, estranged labor makes
man’s species-life a means to his physical existence.
The consciousness which man has of his species is thus transformed by estrangement
in such a way that species[-life] becomes for him a means.
Thus, alientated labor:
(3) Makes man’s species-being, both nature and his spiritual species-property, into a
being alien to him, into a means of his individual existence. It estranges from man his
own body, as well as external nature and his spiritual aspect, his human aspect.
(4) An immediate consequence of the fact that man is estranged from the product of
his labor, from his life activity, from his species-being, is the estrangement of man from
man. When man confronts himself, he confronts the other man. What applies to a man’s
relation to his work, to the product of his labor and to himself, also holds of a man’s
relation to the other man, and to the other man’s labor and object of labor.
In fact, the proposition that man’s species-nature is alienated from him means that
one man is alienated from the other, as each of them is from man’s essential nature.

27
The estrangement of man, and in fact every relationship in which man [stands] to
himself, is realized and expressed only in the relationship in which a man stands to other
men.
Hence within the relationship of estranged labor each man views the other in
accordance with the standard and the relationship in which he finds himself as a worker.

We took our departure from a fact of political economy—the estrangement of the worker
and his production. We have formulated this fact in conceptual terms as estranged,
alienated labor. We have analyzed this concept—hence analyzing merely a fact of
political economy.
Let us now see, further, how the concept of estranged, alienated labor must express
and present itself in real life.
If the product of labor is alien to me, if it confronts me as an alien power, to whom,
then, does it belong?
To a being other than myself.
Who is this being?
The gods? To be sure, in the earliest times the principal production (for example, the
building of temples, etc., in Egypt, India and Mexico) appears to be in the service of the
gods, and the product belongs to the gods. However, the gods on their own were never
the lords of labor. No more was nature. And what a contradiction it would be if, the
more man subjugated nature by his labor and the more the miracles of the gods were
rendered superfluous by the miracles of industry, the more man had to renounce the joy
of production and the enjoyment of the product to please these powers.
The alien being, to whom labor and the product of labor belongs, in whose service
labor is done and for whose benefit the product of labor is provided, can only be man
himself.
If the product of labor does not belong to the worker, if it confronts him as an alien
power, then this can only be because it belongs to some other man than the worker. If
the worker’s activity is a torment to him, to another it must give satisfaction and
pleasure. Not the gods, not nature, but only man himself can be this alien power over
man.
We must bear in mind the previous proposition that man’s relation to himself
becomes for him objective and actual through his relation to the other man. Thus, if the
product of his labor, his labor objectified, is for him an alien, hostile, powerful object
independent of him, then his position towards it is such that someone else is master of
this object, someone who is alien, hostile, powerful, and independent of him. If he treats
his own activity as an unfree activity, then he treats it as an activity performed in the
service, under the dominion, the coercion, and the yoke of another man.
Every self-estrangement of man, from himself and from nature, appears in the relation
in which he places himself and nature to men other than and differentiated from himself.
For this reason religious self-estrangement necessarily appears in the relationship of the
layman to the priest, or again to a mediator, etc., since we are here dealing with the

28
intellectual world. In the real practical world self- estrangement can only become
manifest through the real practical relationship to other men. The medium through
which estrangement takes place is itself practical. Thus through alienated labor man not
only creates his relationship to the object and to the act of production as alien and
hostile to him; he also creates the relationship in which other men stand to his
production and to his product, and the relationship in which he stands to these other
men. Just as he creates his own production as the loss of his reality, as his punishment;
his own product as a loss, as a product not belonging to him; so he creates the
domination of the person who does not produce over production and over the product.
Just as he estranges his own activity from himself, so he confers upon the stranger an
activity which is not his own.
We have until now considered this relationship only from the standpoint of the
worker and later on we shall be considering it also from the standpoint of the non-
worker.
Through estranged, alienated labor, then, the worker produces the relationship to this
labor of a man alien to labor and standing outside it. The relationship of the worker to
labor creates the relation to it of the capitalist (or whatever one chooses to call the
master of labor). Private property is thus the product, the result, the necessary
consequence, of alienated labor, of the external relation of the worker to nature and to
himself.
Private property thus results from the analysis of the concept of alienated labor, i.e., of
alienated man, of externalized labor, of estranged life, of estranged man.
True, it is as a result of the movement of private property that we have obtained the
concept of alienated labor (of alienated life) in political economy. But on analysis of this
concept it becomes clear that though private property appears to be the reason, the cause
of alienated labor, it is rather its consequence, just as the gods are originally not the
cause but the effect of man’s intellectual confusion. Later this relationship becomes
reciprocal.

29
Notes
1. Marx, still using Hegel’s terminology and his approach to the unity of the opposites, counterposes the term
“Verwirklichung” (realisation) to “Entwirklichung” (loss of realisation).

2. In this manuscript Marx frequently uses two similar German terms, “Entäusserung” and “Entfremdung,” to
express the notion of “alienation.” In the present edition the former is generally translated as “alienation,”
the latter as “estrangement,” because in the later economic works (Theories of Surplus-Value) Marx himself
used the word “alienation” as the English equivalent of the term “Entäusserung.”

3. The term “species- being” (Gattungswesen) is derived from Ludwig Feuerbach’s philosophy where it is applied
to man and mankind as a whole.

30
2
Bureaucracy
Max Weber

31
1: Characteristics of Bureaucracy

Modern officialdom functions in the following specific manner:


I. There is the principle of fixed and official jurisdictional areas, which are generally
ordered by rules, that is, by laws or administrative regulations.
1. The regular activities required for the purposes of the bureaucratically governed
structure are distributed in a fixed way as official duties.
2. The authority to give the commands required for the discharge of these duties is
distributed in a stable way and is strictly delimited by rules concerning the coercive
means, physical, sacerdotal, or otherwise, which may be placed at the disposal of
officials.
3. Methodical provision is made for the regular and continuous fulfillment of these
duties and for the execution of the corresponding rights; only persons who have the
generally regulated qualifications to serve are employed.
In public and lawful government these three elements constitute “bureaucratic
authority.” In private economic domination, they constitute bureaucratic “management.”
Bureaucracy, thus understood, is fully developed in political and ecclesiastical
communities only in the modern state, and, in the private economy, only in the most
advanced institutions of capitalism. Permanent and public office authority, with fixed
jurisdiction, is not the historical rule but rather the exception. This is so even in large
political structures such as those of the ancient Orient, the Germanic and Mongolian
empires of conquest, or of many feudal structures of state. In all these cases, the ruler
executes the most important measures through personal trustees, table- companions, or
court- servants. Their commissions and authority are not precisely delimited and are
temporarily called into being for each case.
II. The principles of office hierarchy and of levels of graded authority mean a firmly
ordered system of super- and subordination in which there is a supervision of the lower
offices by the higher ones. Such a system offers the governed the possibility of appealing
the decision of a lower office to its higher authority, in a definitely regulated manner.
With the full development of the bureaucratic type, the office hierarchy is
monocratically organized. The principle of hierarchical office authority is found in all
bureaucratic structures: in state and ecclesiastical structures as well as in large party
organizations and private enterprises. It does not matter for the character of bureaucracy
whether its authority is called “private” or “public.”
When the principle of jurisdictional “competency” is fully carried through,
hierarchical subordination—at least in public office—does not mean that the “higher”
authority is simply authorized to take over the business of the “lower.” Indeed, the
opposite is the rule. Once established and having fulfilled its task, an office tends to
continue in existence and be held by another incumbent.

32
III. The management of the modern office is based upon written documents (“the
files”), which are preserved in their original or draught form. There is, therefore, a staff
of subaltern officials and scribes of all sorts. The body of officials actively engaged in a
“public” office, along with the respective apparatus of material implements and the files,
make up a “bureau.” In private enterprise, “the bureau” is often called “the office.”
In principle, the modern organization of the civil service separates the bureau from the
private domicile of the official, and, in general, bureaucracy segregates official activity as
something distinct from the sphere of private life. Public monies and equipment are
divorced from the private property of the official. This condition is everywhere the
product of a long development. Nowadays, it is found in public as well as in private
enterprises; in the latter, the principle extends even to the leading entrepreneur. In
principle, the executive office is separated from the household, business from private
correspondence, and business assets from private fortune. The more consistently the
modern type of business management had been carried through the more are these
separations the case. The beginnings of this process are to be found as early as the
Middle Ages.
It is the peculiarity of the modern entrepreneur that he conducts himself as the “first
official” of his enterprise, in the very same way in which the ruler of a specifically
modern bureaucratic state spoke of himself as “the first servant” of the state. The idea
that the bureau activities of the state are intrinsically different in character from the
management of private economic offices is a continental European notion and, by way
of contrast, is totally foreign to the American way.
IV. Office management, at least all specialized office management—and such
management is distinctly modern—usually presupposes thorough and expert training.
This increasingly holds for the modern executive and employee of private enterprises, in
the same manner as it holds for the state official.
V. When the office is fully developed, official activity demands the full working
capacity of the official, irrespective of the fact that his obligatory time in the bureau may
be firmly delimited. In the normal case, this is only the product of a long development, in
the public as well as in the private office. Formerly, in all cases, the normal state of
affairs was reversed: official business was discharged as a secondary activity.
VI. The management of the office follows general rules, which are more or less stable,
more or less exhaustive, and which can be learned. Knowledge of these rules represents a
special technical learning which the officials possess. It involves jurisprudence, or
administrative or business management.
The reduction of modern office management to rules is deeply embedded in its very
nature. The theory of modern public administration, for instance, assumes that the
authority to order certain matters by decree—which has been legally granted to public
authorities—does not entitle the bureau to regulate the matter by commands given for
each case, but only to regulate the matter abstractly. This stands in extreme contrast to
the regulation of all relationships through individual privileges and bestowals of favor,
which is absolutely dominant in patrimonialism, at least in so far as such relationships

33
are not fixed by sacred tradition.

34
2: The Position of the Official

All this results in the following for the internal and external position of the official:
I. Office holding is a “vocation.” This is shown, first, in the requirement of a firmly
prescribed course of training, which demands the entire capacity for work for a long
period of time, and in the generally prescribed and special examinations which are
prerequisites of employment. Furthermore, the position of the official is in the nature of
a duty. This determines the internal structure of his relations, in the following manner:
Legally and actually, office holding is not considered a source to be exploited for rents or
emoluments, as was normally the case during the Middle Ages and frequently up to the
threshold of recent times. Nor is office holding considered a usual exchange of services
for equivalents, as is the case with free labor contracts. Entrance into an office, including
one in the private economy, is considered an acceptance of a specific obligation of
faithful management in return for a secure existence. It is decisive for the specific nature
of modern loyalty to an office that, in the pure type, it does not establish a relationship
to a person, like the vassal’s or disciple’s faith in feudal or in patrimonial relations of
authority. Modern loyalty is devoted to impersonal and functional purposes. Behind the
functional purposes, of course, “ideas of culture-values” usually stand. These are ersatz
for the earthly or supra- mundane personal master: ideas such as “state,” “church,”
“community,” “party,” or “enterprise” are thought of as being realized in a community;
they provide an ideological halo for the master.
The political official—at least in the fully developed modern state—is not considered
the personal servant of a ruler. Today, the bishop, the priest, and the preacher are in fact
no longer, as in early Christian times, holders of purely personal charisma. The supra-
mundane and sacred values which they offer are given to everybody who seems to be
worthy of them and who asks for them. In former times, such leaders acted upon the
personal command of their master; in principle, they were responsible only to him.
Nowadays, in spite of the partial survival of the old theory, such religious leaders are
officials in the service of a functional purpose, which in the present- day “church” has
become routinized and, in turn, ideologically hallowed.
II. The personal position of the official is patterned in the following way:
1. Whether he is in a private office or a public bureau, the modern official always
strives and usually enjoys a distinct social esteem as compared with the governed. His
social position is guaranteed by the prescriptive rules of rank order and, for the political
official, by special definitions of the criminal code against “insults of officials” and
“contempt” of state and church authorities.
The actual social position of the official is normally highest where, as in old civilized
countries, the following conditions prevail: a strong demand for administration by
trained experts; a strong and stable social differentiation, where the official

35
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Blackfoot girl.
The warrior who had been left to guard Gray Eagle had taken his
captive and started off at the first round between the opposing
forces.
This movement had not escaped the notice of the Pawnee chief, and
he immediately started two of his warriors to intercept the Sioux, and
recapture Gray Eagle. In this movement they were quite successful;
the fact being that the Sioux guard deserted his prisoner as soon as
he found himself pursued—believing, no doubt, that discretion was
the better part of valor.
His new captors conducted Gray Eagle to a position where he could
watch the progress of the battle, then one of them returned to take a
part in the, thus far, bloodless war, and to inform his chief, White
Wolf, of their success.
Then White Wolf resolved to strike his death-blow, and giving the
order to charge, they swept down upon the Sioux, and a hand-to-
hand fight ensued.
But it was of short duration, for the Sioux soon broke and fled for
their lives.
The Pawnees did not pursue them very far, as they had secured
what they came after, and were now ready to return to their camp.
Gray Eagle was not very well pleased when he learned into whose
hands he had now fallen, for he, too, dreaded the Pawnees.
White Wolf saluted his prisoner kindly and said:
"I have rescued Gray Eagle from the hands of the Sioux squaws,
and when Snowdrop sees him safe she will consent to be the wife of
White Wolf."
"Does the chief know where Snowdrop is?" asked the chief.
"In the camp of White Wolf, a day's ride from here," was the reply.
"How came she there?" demanded the old chief.
"White Wolf found her upon the big plain toward the village of the
Blackfeet. Let us go."
Gray Eagle knew the utter uselessness of arguing the question with
the Pawnee chief, and bowing his head they rode away.
The Pawnees had discovered the party of Blackfeet at the same time
that Jehiel had done so, and just now it occurred to White Wolf that
he was in rather a disagreeable situation. He saw that the party of
Blackfeet outnumbered his party, five to one, and he knew that they
were brave warriors and would not run as easily as the Sioux had
done.
Gray Eagle was pleased at the turn in affairs, as would naturally be
expected; but when he saw that Snowdrop was one of the
approaching party, he turned to White Wolf and said:
"Does my brother speak with a forked tongue?"
"No," replied the Pawnee; "who dare say he does?"
"He said that the daughter of Gray Eagle was in the camp of White
Wolf, a day's ride from here. Now Gray Eagle sees her there with his
people!"
White Wolf did not know what to say. He had left the Blackfoot
beauty a prisoner in the hands of two trusty warriors, and for the life
of him he could not imagine who had rescued her. He said:
"Shall there be peace between the Pawnee and Blackfeet braves, or
shall White Wolf take the scalp of Gray Eagle and go away?"
The old Blackfoot chief saw that there was much to gain and nothing
to lose, and he replied:
"There shall be peace." And they again moved on.
The young chief who led the party of Blackfeet accompanied by
Snowdrop and Jehiel, now rode forward, leaving the Blackfeet in a
body; while Gray Eagle and White Wolf rode out to meet them.
"Has the Blackfoot maiden a sister who looks just like herself?"
asked the astonished Pawnee.
"No, Snowdrop has no sister," replied the girl. "I see you thought I
was your prisoner. I was, but I did not stay so very long."
"How did you get away?" asked White Wolf.
"I rode away! Your warriors slept too sound, you see."
"Waugh!" was all White Wolf could say. He knew that Snowdrop was
merely trying to banter him, and after a moment's reflection, he said:
"The warriors shall die! They are not fit to live if they can not keep
one little squaw!"
"No, they will not die!" assented Snowdrop.
The chief looked at her in surprise. He was not in the habit of having
squaws contradict his word.
"White Wolf is his own master, and the chief of all the Pawnees! Why
does the Blackfoot maiden say they shall not die?"
"Because they are dead already!" answered Snowdrop.
"Dead! Who killed them?"
"I killed one; Long Hunter the other," she replied.
White Wolf glared fiercely at her, as if he could kill her where she sat,
but in a few moments the expression changed, and he said:
"I have rescued your father from the hands of the Sioux as I
promised; now will Snowdrop go to the home of White Wolf, and be
his squaw? She shall have as many slaves as she wants, and there
shall be peace between the tribes. What says the queen of the
Blackfeet?"
"That she does not love the great chief of the Pawnees, and can
never enter his lodge," replied Snowdrop.
"Does she love some one else?"
"Yes, Snowdrop will be the wife of White Panther or marry no one!"
"Who is the White Panther?" asked the chief.
"He is the bravest of pale-faces, and Snowdrop will give her life to
him!"
"Tell me where he is, that I may go and kill him. He is a dog!"
Hardly had the words escaped his lips before he received a blow
upon the side of his head which knocked him from his horse, and
laid him senseless upon the ground.
"There, ye everlastin' skunk!" exclaimed Jehiel, for it was he had
administered the blow, "that'll l'arn ye not to be callin' names!"
The Pawnees seized their weapons when they saw their chief go to
the ground, but at the motion, the Sioux also put themselves in
readiness to repel any attack.
Slowly the Pawnee chief rose to his feet, and for a moment he
seemed to be measuring the strength of Jehiel, then his smothered
indignation found vent, and he exclaimed:
"The pale-face shall die!"
"Waal, he won't, unless he runs across a smarter red-skin than you
are!" exclaimed Jehiel.
"If he is not a coward he will fight the great chief of the Pawnees,
and White Wolf will surely kill him!" said the chief.
"Waal, I may be a coward, but I ain't afeard of you nor any other
durned Injun in this kentry. An' durn yer skin, I'll fight ye any day and
place ye dare to mention!"
"Then we will fight now and here," said the chief.
"Agreed! You'll see fair play, won't you?" he asked of Gray Eagle.
"Yes," replied the chief. "If White Wolf kills my friend, he must do it
fairly."
"Bully for you, old feller!" said Jehiel. Then turning to White Wolf, he
said:
"Now, ye red sarpent, jes' git off there; an' when the old chief gives
the word, we will see who can shoot the best."
"No," replied the Indian, "the gun of the pale-face is better than that
of White Wolf. Let us fight with knives."
"Not much, you don't!" exclaimed Jehiel, who was not very skillful in
the use of that implement, "not much, you don't. I don't want to dirty
my knife—it's the one I use to cut my meat with, and it would go
ag'in' my stomach to use it arter I'd cut a dirty Injun to pieces!"
"Then let the chief of the Blackfeet say how the fight shall be," said
White Wolf.
"Agreed, ag'in! Crack ahead chief, and any way you say fight, I'll
fight!"
"Gray Eagle says, let the fight be with knives and on foot," was the
decision of the chief; and although it did not exactly suit Jehiel, he
immediately began to strip for the fight.
He was soon naked to the waist, and handing his gun and garments
to Snowdrop, he asked her to hold them for him. He was encouraged
by a sweet smile from her, and in reply to the whispered, "Kill him if
you can," he replied:
"I'll do it, sartin!"
White Wolf then stripped, and he too handed his gun to Snowdrop,
but she refused it with scorn. This angered the Pawnee still more,
and he exclaimed:
"Wait until I kill the pale-face dog!" and he strode into the circle which
had been formed by the two parties pressing forward in their
eagerness to see what was going on.
White Wolf was a tall, finely formed Indian, and was well skilled in
the use of the knife, so that really, he had the advantage over Jehiel;
but what Jehiel lacked in skill and experience, he more than made
up in quickness and grit.
They stood within six feet of each other, waiting for Gray Eagle to
give the signal to commence.
So it came, and as the two forms met, the gleaming steel told that
the battle was begun. Flashing in the sunlight, as the antagonists
came together, and then sprung apart, only to renew the conflict
without a moment's pause.
Jehiel soon became satisfied that he was in no particular danger
from the Pawnee chief, and he laughed to himself as he parried the
furious blows of the Indian. But he soon grew tired of this, and
pressed hard upon his adversary, who gradually fell back toward the
side of the circle occupied by his warriors.
Jehiel anticipated his intentions, and springing past the Pawnee,
placed himself between the chief and his warriors.
Then he pressed the Pawnee still harder, and began to nerve himself
for the last desperate effort.
By a skillful blow he severed the string by which the knife of the chief
was attached to his wrist, and another lightning-like stroke sent the
Indian's knife whirling a rod away.
"Now, red-skin, if you hain't satisfied, go and pick up your knife and
I'll do it again."
"The pale-face can take the scalp of White Wolf, for he has won it!"
replied the chief.
"I don't want yer scalp, ye durned fool, but I guess, seein' it's you, I'll
cut it off close to yer head; then, while you're raisin' another one, you
can think of the lickin' I've g'in ye."
"White Wolf will not accept life from a pale-face dog!" exclaimed the
chief.
Again the sledge-hammer fist of Jehiel came in contact with the head
of the Pawnee, and again the chief found himself flat on his back.
"Waal, now, didn't I tell you so?" said Jehiel. "I don't take dog from no
man, let alone a durned Injun."
Then Jehiel shaved the braided scalp-lock of the Pawnee chief close
to his head, after which he returned, and donning his garments,
mounted his horse and was ready for the next thing that might turn
up.
White Wolf was not slow in following his example, and then withdrew
with his warriors, without saying a word to any one.
CHAPTER IX.
BEAR-PAW AT HOME.
The party at the cave were enjoying themselves as well as they
could under the circumstances.
Kelly was getting anxious about his friend Jehiel, and had resolved
that, if he did not make his appearance in the vicinity that day, he
would go in search of him next morning.
But he did not know that about that time Jehiel was having his little
round with the Pawnee chief—if he had, he would not have rested
quite so easily.
Then there was his promise to Gray Eagle, which was only half kept,
but which he resolved should be fulfilled to the letter.
Yes, he would have the scalp of the Sioux chief, or die in the attempt
to get it.
Nulela, the sister of Red Pine, was indeed happy, and with good
reason—the white man whom she had rescued from her brother's
power now reciprocated her great love, and she felt herself amply
rewarded for the risk she had run and the sacrifice she had made.
Full well she knew that she could not return to her own people,
except in disgrace. Such is the moral code of the Sioux—if a maiden
of the tribe marries a white man, and he dies, or, as is more
generally the case, deserts her, she is thenceforth an outcast.
For a long time after the old trapper had tendered them the
hospitalities of his subterranean retreat, they sat beside the fire
trying to determine what was best to be done.
"I am afraid that the Sioux will hang around here until they find out
some way to get into this cave," said Curtiss.
"Young man," said the old trapper, "it ar' a great pity yer could not
hev been born with more brains, an' less stomach!"
"What do you mean, sir?" exclaimed the astonished young man.
"I mean yer must be a durned fool fur bein' afraid, when I've told yer
thar ain't a mite o' danger in here!"
Curtiss thought his best plan was to humor the eccentricities of Old
Bear-Paw, and it was perhaps well that he did.
"Kem with me, my friends," said the trapper, "an' I'll convince yer we
ar' perfeckly safe."
He led the way to the further end of the cave, where the party found
themselves standing upon the brink of a fearful chasm, the light from
the torches revealing no boundary except that upon which they
stood. Below and beyond them, all was inky blackness.
"Gracious, what a place!" said Kelly. "Do you know how deep this
hole is, or what is on the other side?"
"Yas. I've bin down inter this 'ar' hole clean ter ther bottom, an' ef yer
behave yerselves purty well, I'll take yer down thar with me, one of
these days."
"Thank you," replied the scout; "but do you know what is on the other
side of here?"
"Sartin, I've bin thar too! Would yer like ter go over? I've got er
menagery over thar, as ther show fellers used ter say, uv ther finest
livin' speciments on ther contynunt!"
"But how do you get across?—I can't see. Two steps more and down
you go, into that bottomless pit. It is not possible that you can walk
on air, and there is no way of making a bridge, that I can see."
"Yer see, I ain't lived here ten years fur nothin'—so now I'll show yer
how it's done."
He stepped to one side and returned holding in his hand the end of a
rope, the other end of which was lost in the darkness above them.
"Now yer see," said the old man, "yer jest hang on ter this yer end,
an swing off. Wull, ther swing 'll take yer clear across this yer black
hole—then when yer feel yerself comin' back, all yer hev ter do is ter
drap yer feet down, an' ye'll find yerself on terry furmy onc't more.
Then yer kin throw ther rope back fur ther next feller, ef thar is any
more, an' ef thar ain't yer must hang it up on ther peg at ther side
—'cause ef yer don't it will hang straight down ther middle arter it gits
done swinging. Then thar can't no one git it."
"Yes, I understand. Now, Mr.—"
"Bear-Paw, I told yer, only leave off ther mister!"
"Well, Bear-Paw, supposing you take your torch and go across, then
we will follow you."
The old trapper took the torch between his teeth and seizing the rope
with both hands, he swung off. In a minute he waved his torch on the
other side, and shouted—"Ketch ther rope," and in another minute
Kelly was ready to follow.
He tried the rope, as if to make sure that it would hold his weight,
never considering that a much larger man had just swung on the
same rope; and it was with a sensation that he had never before
experienced, that he grasped it firmly and swung off. He soon found
himself beside the old trapper, who said:
"Yer done it well, boy! But I'm afeard that booby over thar won't dare
ter try it!"
He shouted to Curtiss to catch the rope, and again it went to the
other side and was caught by him.
"You go first, Nulela," said Curtiss.
"No, Nulela will follow her chief!"
"Are you sure you can hang on?"
"Nulela is not a child," she replied. "But is the white chief afraid?"
"Oh, no! But what should I do if you were to fall? It would be instant
death!"
"Does my chief then care for me?"
"Care for you? Yes, little one—I love you!" he answered.
"Oh! I am so glad!" exclaimed the Indian girl; "then I can go with you,
and be your wife?"
"Yes," replied Curtiss, "if we ever get out of here."
A call from both Kelly and the old trapper to "hurry up," put a stop to
their love-making, and Curtiss took a firm hold upon the rope and
started for the other side. He had barely regained his feet when the
old trapper seized the rope and sprung out, leaving the scout and
Curtiss alone on the brink of the chasm.
Their first thought was of treachery. Could it be possible that the old
man was about to leave them there as the easiest and surest way of
getting rid of them?
They surmised all sorts of things—probable and improbable. They
saw him land on the other side. Here he said to the Indian girl:
"Jest wait a minit till I git some more torches."
Then he put the rope into her hand to hold until he should return.
Presently he came back with a lighted torch in his hand, and several
more stuck in his belt.
"Now, gal, we'll jine our friends on ther other side."
He held his torch up to her face, to see if she exhibited any signs of
fear, but though he saw no such expression, he saw what puzzled
him more—he saw that her eyes were blue.
"Girl, who are you? Certainly you are no Indian!" he exclaimed, in
language entirely different from that he generally used.
"I am Nulela, the sister of Red Pine," she answered.
He looked at her a moment, as if trying to recollect some half-
forgotten event, and bowing his head upon his hands, the strong
man wept.
"Can it be that I have found my lost one?" he murmured. "My God! If
it should be true, what a joyful ending there would be to all these
years of sorrow and heart-ache! But no, it can not be! She was
stolen by the fierce Apaches, and this one—ha! where is she?"
During his soliloquy the Indian girl had swung off and was now
standing beside her friends on the other side of the chasm, and the
voice of Kelly was heard shouting:
"Here comes the rope, Bear-Paw, catch it!"
A moment later and the old man stood beside them.
"Wull," he said, "yer kem acrost all right, didn't yer? An' now we'll go
an' see ther anermiles."
Proceeding a few yards further into the cave, he turned abruptly to
the left, and entered a large circular room. Here the party were
greeted with a chorus of howls, yells, and snarlings, which continued
until the old man said:
"Hush! yer 'tarnal critters! Don't yer see I've brought yer some
company?"
Immediately the growling ceased, and the old man led the way
around the room.
Chained to the walls were four monster bears and an equal number
of panthers, and they manifested great pleasure when the old
trapper patted them on the head, and called them by their names.
The party were much surprised when the old trapper removed the
chain from the neck of the largest grizzly, and said to him—"Now go
an' shake paws with ther gentlemen." The bear did as he was
ordered, and returned to his master.
"Do you have many visitors?" asked the scout.
"No, yer ther only men these anermiles has seen in eight year," was
the reply of the trapper.
"I should think it would take you all of the time to keep these fellows
in meat."
"Thar yer mightily mistaken then, for when thar is too many reds
about, I send them out ter hunt fur me! Now yer moughtn't like ter
b'lieve me, but I kin send any one uv 'em out, an' they'll bring in
suthen ter eat quicker nor either uv yer fellers kin."
"Is it possible that they are so well trained as that?" asked the scout.
"I'll show yer," replied the hunter, and he let loose a huge panther,
and patting him on the head, said:
"Now, Andy Jackson, go an' ketch me a deer, an' be spry about it,
too! Yer knows whar ter find 'em, don't yer?"
The animal looked up at the hunter's face, and then actually nodded
his head in assent.
"Wull, go on then, an' don't yer stop ter play!"
The panther bounded past the party and disappeared in the gloom
beyond.
"How in the world can he get out?" asked Curtiss. "Surely he can not
swing over the chain?"
"Wull, I reckon he could ef I'd ever l'arnt him! But yer see ther's no
occasion—this yer hole goes clean through ther mountain. But I'll
show yer thet some other time."
"Hark! What is that?"
"It's Andy Jackson passin' ther guard," replied the trapper.
"Who do you have for a guard?"
"He's er brother uv Andy Jackson, but I calls him Barnum jest 'cause
he kin humbug more Injuns than any other feller in ther kentry, 'thout
it ar' ther king uv humbugs, old Barnum his self. Tell yer what,
stranger, he's ther knowin'est varmint uv 'em all. 'Tain't more'n ten
days ago, I war out looking arter things gineraly, when I run inter a
nest uv 'bout er dozen Blackfeet. They had er white feller what they
war a-goin' ter roast, an' I allowed it didn't look jest right, so I kem
back an' got Andy Jackson an Barnum, an' we went fur ter stop ther
fun. Wull, they war so 'tarnal busy with ther white man that they
didn't see us at all, tell jest as they war goin' ter set fire ter ther
brush. Then I shot ther feller what was ther leader, an' you'd jest
orter see'd them two boys, Andy an' Barnum, sail in, an' go ter sp'ilin'
Injuns! Fact, thar didn't a one uv 'em git away! All ther Injuns in this
kentry are scart uv me, an call me a heap big medicine; so they don't
very often kem around here—an' thet leaves me all uv ther trappin'
ter myself. Kem, let's go back now to ther fire."
"But what will become of Andy Jackson?" asked the scout.
"Oh, he'll kem back purty soon, an' be in his stall when I want him!"
"What will he do with the meat, even supposing that he gets any?"
"He'll dervide with the rest, like a man," replied the trapper.
"I don't believe—"
The speaker was interrupted by the old man, saying:
"Thar he kems, now. Ef yer don't b'lieve it, jest keep watch on him."
The trained panther came bounding in, with the carcass of a deer in
his mouth, and thrown across his back.
Kelly noticed that the head was gone, and said:
"Andy stopped by the way to take his own lunch, I see."
"Yer don't see anything uv ther kind! Andy jest chawed ther head off,
an' giv it to Barnum, 'cause thet's his favor-ite piece. 'Sides yer see it
saves ther trouble uv ruunin' back when he feeds ther rest. Yer
needn't laugh, fur as sure as yer live, that ar' Andy Jackson has got
more good sense than half uv ther humans in this territory. Now, ef
yer ain't in a hurry, jest watch ther critter."
The panther had laid the deer upon the floor of the cavern, and stood
wagging his tail in anticipation, while the old hunter took his knife and
proceeded to cut it into so many pieces as there were animals.
"Thar, Andy," he said, "feed ther rest, an' take yer own piece, an' go
ter bed."
The party were by this time prepared for 'most any degree of
tractability on the part of the animal, yet they could not repress an
exclamation of admiration and surprise, when they saw the animal
do as he was bid; it was hard for them to imagine how they could be
brought so completely under the control of the strange old man.
They recrossed the chasm in the same manner in which they had
gone over, and were soon again seated around the fire.
Curtiss and the Indian girl were upon one side, by themselves,
completely lost to their surroundings. But, the story of their love-
making was so like others of the same kind, that need not repeat it
here. Those of my readers who do not "know how it is themselves,"
have the sympathies of the writer!
CHAPTER X.
A WOMAN ON THE TRAIL.
In his fight with the Pawnees, Red Pine had lost several warriors,
which fact was not at all calculated to produce any good feeling on
his part. More than this, he lost what he could not well afford to—his
temper.
He fumed and swore around, venting his anger upon whoever
happened to get in his way.
He resolved to make one more desperate fight, even if he had to
take all the warriors of the Sioux nation to do it. Just then, he felt as if
he would like to exterminate the whole Pawnee tribe, and the
Blackfeet, too, with the exception of Snowdrop. Especially would he
sweep from the face of the earth the young pale-face who had come
between him and his desires.
To this end he dispatched his swiftest runners to the Sioux village
with an earnest appeal for help. There is no doubt in the world but
that he misrepresented facts to his superiors, but then his
conscience was one of those elastic affairs which do not give their
possessor much trouble, and he thought that all was fair in war as in
love.
Then, too, his sister was gone, and he knew that he would not dare
to go back without her. Had he been alone, he would have trumped
up some lie, by which he might get clear of all responsibility; but he
knew that many of the old warriors who were with him, would not
hesitate to put the affair in its true light before the councilors of the
nation.
Thus we find him encamped with his followers within a few miles of
the scene of his recent defeat, to await the return of his messengers.
And White Wolf felt very much as if he had been doing a large
amount of work for a very small remuneration.
He was not angry—oh! no! But, as Jehiel remarked when he saw the
Pawnees leaving: "I'll jest bet that critter feels awful demoralized!"
White Wolf knew that somewhere among the hills there was a white
man who had been instrumental in rescuing Snowdrop from the
hands of the Sioux, and who stood between his wishes and the love
of the Blackfoot queen; and he resolved to hunt up that white man,
and put him out of the way.
So he returned to the place where he had won so decisive and
brilliant a victory over the Sioux, and went into camp.
We left Jehiel mounted and ready for whatever might turn up next,
and there he sat, as did the whole band of Blackfeet, until the
Pawnees were nearly out of sight.
"We will go to the village of my people," said Gray Eagle; and he
turned his horse and started for the north, followed by the Blackfoot
warriors.
He had gone a full mile when he spoke to Snowdrop; but receiving
no answer, he looked around to see what had become of her. Then
he saw her and Jehiel standing where he had left them.
Ordering his band to remain where they were, the old chief galloped
back.
"Why does my daughter and the Long Hunter stay here?" he asked.
Snowdrop did not reply, but Jehiel did.
"Waal, old man, we was tryin' to think of suthin' mean enough to call
you for desarting a friend in this way."
"What does the Long Hunter mean?" asked the old chief.
"I mean just this, that you're an old liar! You agreed to be a friend to
us fellers, if Lew would get your gal away from the Sioux! He did it,
he did, and now, dog gone your old pictur', you was goin' off hum
without tryin' to find out if he is dead or alive! I told Lew just how it
would be, when he said you had swore to befriend him. I don't think
much of such friends as that!"
"White Panther promised to bring the scalp of Red Pine to Gray
Eagle, and he has not done it."
"Waal," replied Jehiel, "he hadn't had time yet. Jest wait a few days,
and you'll see him come walkin' inter your camp a-whistlin' Yankee
Doodle, and old Red Pine's head under his arm—see if you don't!"
"Gray Eagle can not wait. The Long Hunter had better find his friend
and go home, or my warriors will find them and kill them both!"
"Are you goin' to desart Lew Kelly in this way?" asked the thoroughly
angry Yankee.
"Gray Eagle owes the pale-face nothing, for he has not done all he
promised."
"I've a good mind to shoot you myself, you 'tarnal old traitor you!"
exclaimed Jehiel.
The old chief did not notice him, but turning to Snowdrop he said:
"Come, my daughter."
He turned and started toward his band, but Snowdrop made no effort
to follow him.
He came back with an angry frown upon his face. It was the first time
Snowdrop had ever refused to obey him.
"Why does my daughter linger?" he asked.
"Snowdrop will not enter her father's lodge until he has found the
White Panther! He saved her life, and Snowdrop will not desert him!"
"The Pawnees have gone that way, and they will find him and kill
him!" replied the old chief.
"Then Snowdrop will die with him!" exclaimed the maiden.
The old chief loved his daughter as the apple of his eye, and he
knew that she would not give up by coaxing—she was too much a
chip of the old block for that.
He could take her home by force; but she would certainly run away if
he did.
He could confine her so that she could not leave; but she would take
her own life.
He knew the scout would not take Snowdrop for his wife—he had
heard him say that he had a wife already.
Looking at the case in all its bearings, he resolved to assist his
daughter in finding White Panther, and then compel him to marry her,
whether or not. So he said:
"Gray Eagle will find the pale-face, and give him to Snowdrop."
Signaling for his band to return, he started for the place where he
had last seen Lew Kelly. When within a few miles of the place a
scout came running back with the intelligence that the Pawnees
were encamped on the old battle-ground.
This intelligence was not at all pleasing to him, for it necessitated the
making of his camp on the side of the range where he then was.
However, necessity knows no law, and he was obliged to call a halt
upon arriving at the foot of the hill.
He did not know that the object of his search was within short rifle-
shot of him at that moment.
He had made his camp close by a small stream which ran along the
base of the hill. Upon the opposite side of the stream the rocks
towered above them a hundred feet or more, forming an
insurmountable barrier to further progress in that direction; and with
his scouts out, he did not fear surprise.

Lew Kelly was telling Bear-Paw how he came to be in that section,


and also of the treaty of peace he had made with Gray Eagle.
"But," he said, "I don't know whether the old chief will consider
himself bound to keep the contract until I bring him the scalp of the
Sioux chief, as I promised. I hope he will, for there is plenty of game
about here, and every indication of gold. In the hills, where my friend
and I made our camp, we found several nuggets of pure gold; and I
have no doubt there is plenty of it among these hills, as they are of
the same range."
"I've got er gold-mine what'll do yer eyes good ter see," said the old
trapper. "Jest wait er minit an' I'll show yer."
He went to the opposite side of the room, and returned, bearing a
buck-skin bag, which he opened and poured the contents upon the
floor before the scout.
"Thar," he said, "is about fifty pounds of ther durned stuff, enuf ter
make yer rich fur life; an' I'll give yer ther hull lot on't, ef ye'll agree ter
go hum, an' never say nothin' about thar bein' any here."
The scout was too much surprised to reply.
"What does yer say?" asked the trapper. "Ain't it enuf?"
"Yes, it is enough," replied Kelly; "but, did you find it all among these
hills?"
"Sartin. An' I kin show yer more nor ten bushels uv it, layin' around
loose!"
"Where?"
"Down in ther kasm—will yer go down an' see it?"
"Not now," replied the scout. "I must find out, first, where my friend is.
I blame myself for keeping still so long, and if you will let me out, I
will go to the top of the bluff and see if I can discover him."
"All right. I'll go with yer," replied Bear-Paw.
Kelly took care to return the gold to the bag, and place it where he
could find it again; then he signified his readiness to go.
"I'm goin' out, gal," the old trapper said to the aged negro woman.
"Jest keep yer ears open, fur I may be in a hurry when I kem back,"
and they were ushered into the outer cavern.
A low whinny greeted Kelly.

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