§ 8
As the Brissago council came to realise that what it had supposed to
be temporary camps of refugees were rapidly developing into great towns
of a new type, and that it was remoulding the world in spite of itself,
it decided to place this work of redistributing the non-agricultural
population in the hands of a compactor and better qualified special
committee. That committee is now, far more than the council of any other
of its delegated committees, the active government of the world.
Developed from an almost invisible germ of `town-planning' that came
obscurely into existence in Europe or America (the question is still in
dispute) somewhere in the closing decades of the nineteenth century, its
work, the continual active planning and replanning of the world as a
place of human habitation, is now so to speak the collective material
activity of the race. The spontaneous, disorderly spreadings and
recessions of populations, as aimless and mechanical as the trickling of
spilt water, which was the substance of history for endless years,
giving rise here to congestions, here to chronic devastating wars, and
everywhere to a discomfort
and disorderliness that was at its best only picturesque, is at an end.
Men spread now, with the whole power of the race to aid them, into every
available region of the earth. Their cities are no longer tethered to
running water and the proximity of cultivation, their plans are no
longer affected by strategic considerations or thoughts of social
insecurity. The aeroplane and the nearly costless mobile car have
abolished trade routes; a common language and a universal law have
abolished a thousand restraining inconveniences, and so an astonishing
dispersal of habitations has begun. One may live anywhere. And so it is
that our cities now are true social gatherings, each with a character of
its own and distinctive interests of its own, and most of them with a
common occupation. They lie out in the former deserts, these long wasted
sun-baths of the race, they tower amidst eternal snows, they hide in
remote islands, and bask on broad lagoons. For a time the whole tendency
of mankind was to desert the river valleys in which the race had been
cradled for half a million years, but now that the War against Flies has
been waged so successfully that this pestilential branch of life is
nearly extinct, they are returning thither with a renewed appetite for
gardens laced by watercourses, for pleasant living amidst islands and
houseboats and bridges, and for nocturnal lanterns reflected by the sea.
Man who is ceasing to be an agricultural animal becomes more and
more a builder, a traveller, and
a maker. How much he ceases to be a cultivator of the soil the returns
of the Redistribution Committee showed. Every year the work of our
scientific laboratories increases the productivity and simplifies the
labour of those who work upon the soil, and the food now of the whole
world is produced by less than one per cent. of its population, a
percentage which still tends to decrease. Far fewer people are needed
upon the land than training and proclivity dispose towards it, and as a
consequence of this excess of human attention, the garden side of life,
the creation of groves and lawns and vast regions of beautiful flowers,
has expanded enormously and continues to expand. For, as agricultural
method intensifies and the quota is raised, one farm association after
another, availing itself of the 1975 regulations, elects to produce a
public garden and pleasaunce in the place of its former fields, and the
area of freedom and beauty is increased. And the chemists' triumphs of
synthesis, which could now give us an entirely artificial food, remain
largely in abeyance because it is so much more pleasant and interesting
to eat natural produce and to grow such things upon the soil. Each year
adds to the variety of our fruits and the delightfulness of our
flowers.