Chapter IV: The Cost of Following the Ostrich Policy

No social order can for long remain indifferent toward the problems and difficulties confronting some of its members, without directly or indirectly paying the price for its unconcern. The cost of this apathy is difficult of estimation, as it is frequently indirect and indistinct. A brief examination of the facts, however, shows that the price paid by society for its indifference is prodigious. For what is to many more distressing and nerve-racking than actual suffering is the fear and dread of such misery and privation. As Thomas Carlyle expressed it: “It is not to die or even to die of hunger, that makes a man wretched; many men have died; all men must die. But it is to live miserably, we know not why; to work sore, yet gain nothing; to be heart-worn, weary, yet isolated, unrelated, girt in with a cold, universal laissez-faire.” It is a patent fact that public pauperism in old age is the dread and agony of thousands of workingmen and women. Many lives are embittered by the fear of dependency in old age. Who can measure the extent of depression of spirits, and the amount of physical drain accompanying such depression and its loss to society in terms of efficiency and progress? A brief examination of the obvious costs is of supreme value.

(a) THE COST TO THE TAX-PAYER

The total cost of the dependent aged in the United States is, of course, impossible to obtain. Not only are the records of charitable institutions incomplete, but it is common knowledge also that millions of dollars are being given in one form of relief or another by individuals, as well as by private organizations, the extent of whose benefactions can never be ascertained. Basing his estimate upon the average cost per dependent person given by the Massachusetts Commission in 1910, Mr. L. W. Squier calculated the total annual cost of the dependent population 65 years of age and over, exclusive of those in correctional institutions and insane asylums, to have been $178,899,968.41 in 1910. “In round numbers,” Mr. Squier estimated, “it is costing this country $220,000,000 a year for the support of this great host of worn-out toilers.”

The Massachusetts 1915 Decennial Census summarized the per capita expenditures on the dependent aged 65 and over in that State as follows:

“Exclusive of United States pensioners, the aggregate number of
dependent persons in Massachusetts 65 years of age and over who
received aid from all sources (both public and private) during the
fiscal year ending March 31, 1915, was 34,496 and the aggregate amount
of aid received by this number was $3,233,948.74. Corresponding data
for public relief were 26,403 persons aided to the amount of
$2,250,685.91 and for private relief 9,862 persons aided to the amount
of $983,262.83. The per capita expenditure on account of persons
receiving aid from all sources (both public and private) was $93.75;
for persons receiving aid from public sources, $85.24; and for persons
receiving aid from private sources $99.70. For males the per capita
expenditure (public and private) was $98.64 and for females
$90.26.”[45]

In Wisconsin in 1914 the average cost per person of almshouse maintenance, including interest on invested capital, was $3.58 per week or $186 per year. The amount of outdoor relief averaged $50 per person per year. The Ohio Commission found that:

“Independent of the value of the farm products consumed in these
institutions, the cost of maintaining the city and county infirmaries
in Ohio in 1915, was $1,455,944 and the average per capita cost was
$169.88. Of the 80 infirmaries reporting, 13 had a per capita cost of
less than $100; 27 between $100 and $149; 20 between $150 and $200; 15
between $200 and $250; four between $250 and $300; and one over
$300.[46]

“The total expenditure for poor relief by cities, counties and
townships was $1,966,352 in 1916. Other state institutions cared for
37,139 different persons in the year ending June 30, 1917. Nearly half
of these persons were over 60 years of age. During the same year
expenditure on these institutions was $5,247,327.

“In addition 46 private, church and society homes were caring for
2,628 aged persons in June, 1917.

“The state has an investment of over $25,000,000 in its state
institutions. The cities and counties have an investment of
$10,000,000 in the county and city infirmaries alone. Altogether, this
public investment calls for an interest charge of nearly two millions
annually, to say nothing of depreciation.

“Roughly speaking, then, nearly $10,000,000 is expended annually by
local and state public charities and a large part of this, probably
about half, is for the care of the aged. The amount expended by
private organized charities for the care of the aged and for all
relief and social work amounts to several million dollars
annually.”[47]

Exceedingly interesting related data is presented by the Pennsylvania Commission. It finds that in 1917:

“The average cost per week for all almshouses, was $5.87 or $25.14 per
month. In 1916, according to the report of the State Board of Public
Charities, the average per capita cost, when computed in a similar
way, was $5.09 per week or $21.81 per month. It must be noted that the
expenditures made during the year on buildings and improvements, and
the interest on permanent investments, are not included, in most
cases. It is impossible to ascertain the value of the different
institutions at the present time. It is a well-known fact, however,
that many of the larger institutions are worth millions of dollars. It
is not unusual to find many county almshouses occupying farms of
several hundred acres and building properties worth several hundred
thousand dollars. In the few institutions where big expenditures were
made on buildings and improvements during the year 1917, five per
cent. added for interest and depreciation increases considerably the
per capita cost.”[48]

It also found that:

“One county home with eleven inmates spends $6,655.60 or $605.05 per
year per inmate; while another County Home with three inmates spends a
grand total of $2,570.55 or $856.85 per inmate per year. One almshouse
is maintained solely for one inmate and while the direct cost of him
to the county was $110.26 there was spent $240.25 or $2.17 per dollar,
to deliver this money to the inmate.

“In 1916, $4,449,108.20 was spent for maintaining 16,754 inmates. This
total increased to $5,114,307.15 which was spent in 1917 on 16,716
inmates.

“The average yearly per capita cost for 1917 was $301.68.”[49]

In the Benevolent Homes for the aged the Pennsylvania Commission found that in 1917 a total of $485,441.78 was being spent on 1,545 inmates, or a per capita cost of $6.03 per week or $25.83 per month. It also found “one institution in which the weekly per capita cost amounted to $19.88, while in another it amounted to $33.81.” The above averages the Commission states do not include the interest on permanent investment or depreciation. When these were added the Commission found the average cost per inmate in these Benevolent Homes to be $33.99 per month in 1917. There are practically no figures available showing the money spent on the aged poor by private charity organizations. However, a study of the Philadelphia Society for Organizing Charity made by the same Commission, disclosed that during the most prosperous 12 months—between October 1917 and October 1918—the Philadelphia Society alone spent $33,291.57 on 162 aged people, or an average of over $200 per beneficiary. The extent of contributions, given in a confidential manner, by private persons as well as by churches and fraternal societies throughout the country is, of course, impossible to ascertain.

It is obvious that the millions of dollars spent annually on the care of the aged, whether through public or private agencies, ultimately come out of the pockets of the taxpayers. And the Pennsylvania Commission’s indictment of the administration of these funds is applicable to many States. The latter Commission states that its investigations:

“Disclose an exceedingly confusing and bewildering system of
management of our county poorhouses. Not only do many of the officials
connected with these institutions have little knowledge of the
problems involved in the care of the aged, but there is obviously a
laxity in the management of these institutions and the distribution of
the county funds. The state supervision of these aged homes is
insufficient, loose and hardly competent. Careful records are kept in
only a few institutions. There are no uniform methods of accounting.
Computations of costs are made in almost as many forms and methods as
the men making them. Many of the per capita costs of almshouses given
in the reports of the Board of Public Charities do not represent the
actual cost. The latter do not include the interest upon the permanent
investment and, in many cases, do not include the value of farm
products.”[50]

In his private business the citizen is continually making further inquiries in regard to newer and more efficient methods of management by means of which he may reduce his cost, and increase his returns. To suggest, however, that the same principle should be applied to national or State business is, unfortunately, still considered by many to be the rankest of radicalism. Yet what could be greater folly than to continue to spend these many millions of dollars without either an accurate account of the expenditures or of the returns secured?

(b) THE COST TO THE INSTITUTIONAL INMATES OR RECIPIENTS OF CHARITY

Of greater social importance than the mere expenditures of the enormous sums of money cited in the preceding pages is the degree of effectiveness and the adequacy of these methods of aged relief in meeting the purposes desired. These methods must be judged in terms of the quality of the services rendered to those who are forced to seek assistance in return for the funds expended. Even the present chaotic means of caring for the aged, if they are at all to be effective, must not only seek to relieve the immediate needs of the aged but must aim also to prevent dependency and thus ultimately reduce the cost of pauperism. Measured by these standards it may safely be stated that the existing means of aged relief are ineffective, inadequate and undesirable. The present methods of relief are looked upon as degrading and are of a repugnant nature, invariably resulting in the loss of self-respect in the individual recipient and increased pauperism in the group. The stigma of public charity is inseparable from the almshouse and public outdoor relief as commonly administered, because of long custom and deeply ingrained public opinion.

Francis Herbert Stead, who was connected with the English workhouses for years, says in his book, “How Old Age Pensions Began to Be”:

“I saw men who trembled for very age hawking trifles in the streets,
and tottering on through mud and sleet and icy wind. I saw men slowly
wither up, body and soul, under the blighting sense that they were
wanted nowhere, and a burden everywhere.

When he is forsaken,
Withered and shaken,
What can an old man do but die?

“Only those who have seen it can conceive the misery of the poor old
fellow who finds that society has no longer any use for him, who feels
he is done with and done for. Many old men come to me, with tears
running down their cheek, imploring me as if I were Almighty God to
have pity on them and get them work.—‘Anything, oh, anything, no
matter what it is, to keep me from the workhouse.’”

Another Englishman—John Metcalfe—declared:

“One of the sights which make life unbearable to me is that of old men
and women, who in a worse plight than the sturdy beggar (who has the
spirit to beg) are trying to get a scanty living by doing any kind of
little odd jobs. They know that life must soon end for them, and they
have one ambition left, the ambition not to die in the workhouse.”

These conditions do not exist in England alone. In this country too it has often been asserted by competent authorities that insanity and suicide of middle-aged persons is due in a large measure to the dread of old age. Even in the United States there are, apparently, workers who would rather enter the valley of the shadow of death than the loathed confines of a poorhouse. In a brief period of two months the writer’s morning newspaper reported the following two stories, which need no further comment:

“AGED MAN DIES AS HE FACES ALMSHOUSE

“Camden, N. J., Feb. 28—Heartbroken because he had to go to the
almshouse, Jacob ... 78 years old, of this place, was taken ill and
died yesterday afternoon.

“Jacob, and his brother, George, 76 years old, lived and worked
together all their lives. They have spent their last declining years
alone together, with no relatives, at their home here. As age crept
upon them they found themselves unable to obtain work, but they eked
out their slender savings until the final penny was gone. Arrangements
were made to have them sent to the almshouse at Blackwood, and the
news was too much for the elder of the brothers and he became ill. His
brother went to the almshouse alone.”

“FEARING OLD AGE HE JUMPS FROM HIGH BRIDGE

“Cleveland, May 7.—Fear of losing his position because of his age is
said by friends to have been the reason for a suicide leap today by
Joseph H...., 60 who hurled himself to death from the high level
bridge to the street pavement 125 feet below.”

The almshouse, like most charitable institutions, leaves much to be desired as a home for the aged. Even if the majority of almshouses and charitable homes in the United States afforded a fair degree of physical comfort, sanitation, good food and humane treatment, it would still seem hardly fair to herd together indiscriminately the worn-out honest workers, the insane, the feeble-minded, the confirmed inebriates and the petty criminals, as is done in most public poorhouses at present. The actual conditions of the great majority of county and semi-private institutions are far from ideal. The recent investigations of the several State Commissions, as well as personal observations, reveal that life in public almshouses is far from inviting, not merely on account of the opprobrium of public opinion, but because in addition life in these institutions is exceedingly dull, depressing and restricted.

In practically all States the superintendents of the county almshouses are as a rule political appointees. “The great majority of these,” says the Pennsylvania Commission, “have had no experience of this nature, previous to their appointments. Many of the men connected with the management of the almshouses are prejudiced and often without the rudiments of an education. Where the superintendents are highly educated men and trained—of these there are only a few—they are as a rule powerless, and have no authority to make improvements without the consent of the Poor Board or the County Commissioners.”

Similar conclusions are reached by the Ohio Commission. Regarding the actual conditions of the County Almshouse the Ohio Commission says:

“The care of the various inmates in the county and city infirmaries in
Ohio is a rather difficult problem, but it is one which is not taken
very seriously, as is evident from the conditions prevailing in the 45
infirmaries visited in the course of this study. Thirteen were in very
bad condition, 19 others would not come up to any reasonable standard,
and the remaining 13 were in fairly good condition.

“In three infirmaries among those in bad condition, new buildings are
absolutely essential for any improvement in the situation, the old
buildings being entirely uninhabitable. Persons employed to keep the
premises clean seemed more lavish in the use of disinfectant than of
soap and water. The inside of the buildings was unclean and slovenly;
the walls had not been painted in a generation and no attempt had been
made to repair cracks or other defacements.

“Many old persons suffer from foul smelling disorders and when a
number of them congregate in small groups, the resulting bad odor is
very noticeable to a person unaccustomed to it. Lack of attention
regarding personal cleanliness, poor ventilation and over-heating tend
to accentuate the odor. In many of the buildings inspected, sections
occupied by the inmates were so foul smelling that they were almost
unbearable. The inmates frequently were unclean, the beds dirty, the
bed covers old and worn and ventilation poor. Those who were unable to
care for their physical needs and demanded constant attention, had to
depend on other inmates for the most urgent wants. Often these
improvised attendants were feeble-minded or at least ignorant and
inattentive. In the entire group there was virtually no medical
supervision.”[51]

Somewhat better conditions are described by the investigators of the Pennsylvania Commission as having been found in the larger institutions in the State; but even in these institutions the Commission declares:

“There was no genuine homelike spirit. Most of the inmates looked
sullen and wore depressed and downcast mien. Practically all were
eager to get out of the place. Even in the best equipped institutions
there were no recreational facilities provided for these inmates.
Except for a pack of cards, a game of checkers and a few old
magazines, there was nothing these aged could do to keep their minds
occupied and to prevent their nursing of grievances and discontent.
This feeling of depression is augmented by the fact that in most Homes
no attempt is made to segregate the old people,—who have been
compelled to go to the almshouse through no fault of their own,—from
the feeble-minded, and in some cases even the partially insane. In
many places they are compelled to eat at the same tables and sleep in
the same dormitories with the latter groups. The inmates in most
almshouses are a very heterogeneous collection. They comprise insane,
feeble-minded persons and epileptics, blind and deaf mutes; sufferers
from chronic diseases, persons with criminal records; prostitutes;
mothers of illegitimate children, orphans and deserted children.”[52]

Miss Nassau, after visiting the Homes for the Aged on Blackwell’s Island declared:

“Perhaps the most striking thing of all is the horror of the huge
dormitories with the beds nearer together than in the usual hospital
wards. That people can sleep in such huge dormitories so close
together seems incomprehensible—for although the very poor have never
been used to the luxury of real privacy there is a difference between
sharing a room with two to four relatives—and a room with a hundred or
so strangers.... In spite of long years of tenement visiting I could
stand no longer the sight of such depressed, hopeless, sad, vacant,
wretched faces. All seemed to live such a hopelessly monotonous life
with no individuality or scope for personal effort.... Of course
people do get desperate and commit suicide or try to do so. One of the
nurses at Blackwell’s Island said, ‘I don’t think I can stand it here
much longer, it is awful. I don’t wonder some of the old people wander
down to the river and get in boats and—well, sometimes nothing more is
heard of them!’”

While commenting favourably upon the regulations for cleanliness and general hygiene, Miss Nassau states:

“My last comment is on the lack of provision at both places for the
keeping of personal effects, which is a most serious defect.

“At Staten Island, in the dormitories the women had chairs by their
bedsides, so they practically owned a chair as well as a bed, and the
clothes on their backs. Think of the tragedy of owning nothing more,
when every human being has inherently a love of acquisition of
property, as is proved also in asylums for children, where it is found
that children pine away if acquisition of personal belongings is
denied them! I asked one of the heads at Staten Island if the inmates
could not have a locked tin box for personal belongings, but he
insisted that that would be a menace to the general hygiene. I said,
‘But the boxes could be inspected regularly.’ To which he objected
irritably, ‘There is no one here to do such work. I am short of help
as it is; besides the people here are riff-raff, anyway.’ This
statement I could not agree with at all, for many of the inmates
seemed very decent, respectable people, and in the cottages where they
were given liberty (entrance to the cottages is rather by ‘pull,’ and
perhaps to some especially deserving ones) they looked very neat and
nice.”[53]

In practically all States outdoor relief is given by the different Poor Boards to persons either whose physical condition does not permit their removal to the County Homes, or to women with dependent children, temporarily in need, who are physically able to care for themselves. Outdoor relief may be given also to those who have some one to care for them in their own homes, or it is given to those who while physically able are in temporary need of relief. This form of relief is usually dispensed through the County Poor Directors themselves or through a clerk appointed by them. Cash is given only in rare cases. Generally an order for groceries or merchandise is given to merchants extending credit to the Poor Directors. Of the constituency of these Boards, the Pennsylvania Commission states:

“It is seldom that the county poor directors, county commissioners or
other poor authorities have any definite knowledge or understanding of
the problems of poor relief. These bodies are generally elected or
appointed because of their political leadership in their respective
communities. The policies of rendering relief to the poor are very
often shaped in accordance with the political fluctuations and whims
of the particular localities. Few make provisions for careful
investigation as to the extent and need of assistance or for
supervision of those who receive relief. The clerk of one County Poor
Board, who dispensed more than $10,000 worth of goods in one year,
frankly admitted that he had no experience in this work. He was a
machinist by trade and confessed he knew nothing of the problem. He
said that he rarely investigated a case but that he knew he was
supposed to ‘relieve the needs of the poor,’ and furthermore, that
there ought to be a better method of conducting this poor relief
system, but that he held his job because of his political influence
and that ‘it was much worse with the Democratic clerk who preceded him
in this office.’”[54]

What are the actual returns made to institutional inmates for the enormous expenditures cited above? The Pennsylvania Commission has made a careful analysis of the quality and quantity of food consumed in one typical county almshouse of that state on the respective tables for inmates and stewards. The general methods of caring for the aged may be seen from the following: The almshouse studied had a farm of 514 acres valued at $200,000, while the buildings were valued at $250,000 more. The analysis showed that during the year 1917 the inmates’ table consisted on the average of 313 persons, while the stewards’ table consisted of 32 persons. The following differences in table fare were found: The amount of butter consumed during that year averaged 7½ lbs. per inmate and 30¾ lbs. per steward. The inmates averaged 28 eggs per year, while the stewards averaged 200 per year. Sugar was consumed on the average of 22½ lbs. per inmate and 32½ per steward. The average amount of milk consumed by the inmates during that year was 23 qts., while the stewards averaged 101 qts. The average amount of chicken consumed by the inmates was a little over one ounce per year, while the stewards averaged ten pounds. The same proportion held true of other foodstuffs. The Commission comments:

“The above is illuminating from the standpoint of the quality and
quantity of the foods consumed at the respective tables of inmates and
stewards. It is shown throughout that the coarser foods are consumed
by the inmates, while the better kinds, are used by the stewards. This
is significant when it is remembered that many of the aged folks are
continuously sick and need more of the better foodstuffs.”[55]

(c) THE COST TO INDUSTRY

Much has been heard lately of the importance of increasing production. The necessity for higher standards of workmanship, newer devices, and more scientific methods of management in order to increase the efficiency of the workers is now dwelt upon by all industrial leaders. Innumerable devices which would tend to stimulate a greater out-put by their workers are suggested by business men. It is patent, however, that a high degree of efficiency can be obtained only when one is possessed of a mind that is cheery, hopeful, and more or less contented. The reactions of mind upon body, in terms of industrial efficiency, can hardly be over-emphasized. But as long as the worker is left to grope with the problems of old age individually, the wage-earner—especially the middle-aged worker—can hardly be expected to maintain a happy state of mind.

To many millions of workers in the United States today, the future is a dark, unfathomable abyss in which hope, independence and comfort have no place. Advancing age is looked upon with great apprehension and dread even by many who are engaged in the skilled trades. What with the unemployment of old age, the high cost of living, and the numerous other vicissitudes of modern life, their meagre savings are soon exhausted. Slowly, as the years advance, the thought of what he is to face during the days when he is no longer capable of working, robs the mind of the middle-aged worker of every form of contentment and enjoyment of the present. The thought of helplessness in the future gradually fills the life of a worker, especially if he is already advanced in age, with a fear and a feeling of fatalism which has a deadening influence upon everything he does. The prospect of the poorhouse with its stigma of pauperism, so detestable to the honest wage-earner, haunts him like a dark shadow and saps every bit of his vitality. The dreadful thought that after a lifetime of valuable service, he will be compelled to give up long-cherished home ties and life associations, to lose sight of the old home, to hear no longer the sound of his loved ones’ voices, is constantly before him and fills his life with bitterness. He knows that life must soon end for him, yet he has one ambition left—not to die in a poorhouse. And these reflections inevitably result, especially to the sensitive and thoughtful worker, who cannot help dwelling with horror on the dreary period of old-age imprisonment which awaits him, in physical deterioration and the reduction of physical vigour, which in turn increasingly affect adversely his interest, efficiency, and contentment. Under these circumstances, what opportunities are there for the conservation of energy and the increase of production?

(d) THE COST TO THE YOUNGER GENERATIONS AND TO SOCIETY

The present system of aged relief stands indicted not merely because it is inadequate, incompetently administered, and destructive of industrial efficiency. It must be called to account chiefly because of the detrimental effect it has upon the future. The present methods of caring for the aged necessitate a reconsideration and a readjustment because of their evil results upon the coming generation and upon society as a whole. For of greater social significance and more far-reaching importance than either the money spent on the decrepit, or the treatment received by those whose lives have been spent and whose hopes of rehabilitation or restoration to society are slight, more sinister than even the industrial inefficiency it creates, are the effects the present methods of aged relief have upon great numbers of the younger and especially middle-aged wage-earners.

It is now generally recognized that society ultimately pays the price for all its apathy and resultant maladjustments. From the first impression it would appear that while this truth may be admitted, the price in the case of the neglected aged would be reduced to a minimum. For the great majority of the aged are rarely restored to active social participation, and their effect upon society, whether for good or evil, would seem to be nil. However, a closer observation reveals an intimate relationship between the superannuated workers and the younger generation with its children.

The data given in a preceding chapter show that, while aged dependency is widespread in this country, most persons, despite their poverty, succeed in avoiding either public or private charity. Obviously, these do not all commit suicide upon reaching old age, nor are many found actually starving on the streets. Most of these aged folk, as shown in the preceding chapters, are taken care of by their children or relatives. Indeed, this is given by the Pennsylvania Commission as the chief difference between those who remain “non-dependent” and those who must seek the poorhouse as their sheltering place. The studies of the different State Commissions show conclusively that few children able to do so are unwilling to aid their parents. On the other hand, it was found that in many instances children were supporting their aged parents, against great odds, either because of deep attachment to them or because of pride, which would rather suffer in silence than accept charity. While this may seem a very meritorious act, to those who consider it an obligation for children to support their parents, or who take it as indication of the much-prized family solidarity, it can hardly be accepted as a desirable basis of society, under present conditions, that the older generation must be supported by the younger.

The younger generation must be considered in any discussion of the aged problem, especially if it is to be accepted that the aged are to be supported by their children. The proverbial “mother-in-law” is undoubtedly blamed for many more things than she is actually guilty of. Nevertheless, there are few persons who could not reflect upon one or more of their acquaintances whose young lives have been made pitiably wretched, and in some instances totally ruined, by the constant “pestering” of an old father-in-law or mother-in-law. Such conflicts are almost inevitable.

Romain Rolland’s characteristic Frenchman, Colas Breugnon, faced with such a situation after a fire, bewails his misfortune thus:

“I have lost everything in the world,” thought I. “My home,—the house
was full of dear memories,—and the hope of ever having another of my
own; all my savings, which it took me years to get together, bit by
bit, and which were so much the more valuable to me, and worst of all,
my independence is gone; for now, of course, I shall have to live with
one of my children, and I don’t know which of us will hate it the
most. It is the one thing I have always been resolved against, as the
worst that could happen. There is no use telling me that I love them,
and they love me,—I know all that, but young people and old interfere
with each other, and it is natural and proper for a bird to sit on its
own nest, and hatch out its own eggs in its own way. Respect for the
old is all very well, or rather it makes a difficulty, for you are not
on an equality with people when you are obliged to show them respect.
I have tried to behave so that my five children should not have too
much respect for me, and I think I have succeeded pretty well, but
there must always be a distance between us. Parents come and go in
their children’s lives, like strangers from a far country; there can
never be perfect understanding from one generation to another, and too
often there is, on the contrary, interference and irritation.”

As a rule the old persons hate to feel dependent upon their children. They suffer greatly from not being “able to make their own dollar,” instead of accepting it from their children. On the one hand, the old who for years have been accustomed to be looked up to as the superiors and masters of the household can hardly adjust themselves to a position of “added burdens,” when they become dependent upon their children. They find it difficult to give up their authority. On the other hand, even loyal children begin to lose their respect for parents who have become feeble, irritable, and burdensome. As a result there is frequently great suffering on the part of both the old and young generations, which sometimes ends disastrously for the children.

In addition to the evil effects upon the second generation described above, there is also the third generation to be considered. It seems cruel to force any father or mother in this twentieth century to decide between supporting old parents and contenting themselves with a little less food, less room, less clothing, and the curtailment of their children’s education; or sending parents to the poorhouse or charitable agencies, accepting the stigma of pauperism, and thus assuring themselves of more food, more room, and more clothing, and a better education for their children which would help them to become somewhat more proficient workers. This is a difficult alternative, yet it is certain that thousands of parents in the United States are annually compelled to make such decisions.

Unfortunately for the children, the hateful odium of charity and pauperism is so repugnant to self-respecting labouring men and women that the decision, in the majority of such cases, is made in favour of the passing generation. Thus the lack of provisions for the old is often responsible for the stunted and thwarted growth of the children. Because of the necessity of supporting the aged, the children are frequently doomed to under-nourishment; and to a life in the midst of crowded and unsanitary quarters. The children are compelled to leave school early in life and join the ranks of the unskilled; to add further to the already over-crowded industries and thus lower the wages of their own fathers and other such workers. They are doomed to physical deterioration early in life, and in turn to aged dependency, in order that they may keep up the vicious cycle. And this slaughter of the innocent brought upon the altar of ignorance to the ostrich continues, because the majority of the people in the United States still are afraid to lift their heads from the sand. They dread to face and meet the facts—as every other civilized country has already done—with a constructive social policy, for fear that in doing so they may be accused of “paternalism,” or “socialism,” or perhaps “Bolshevism”!