The subsequent debate lasted for three whole days.
On the first day, the Workers’ Faction and the Peasants’ Faction were enthusiastically supportive, almost ready to applaud and cheer.
But the petty bourgeoisie faction remained silent; Bertrand raised his hand several times to speak, then lowered it.
The concerns of these small and medium-sized enterprise owners were completely different from what had been previously anticipated.
When they realized they would not be “one-size-fits-all” dismantled due to their scale, their anxiety shifted in another direction.
Those behemoth enterprises about to be nationalized, those monopoly factories about to be broken up, were precisely the main customers and suppliers of these small and medium-sized enterprises.
To understand what follows, we must look back at the history of France.
Before the holy calendar year 870, France was a monarchy, and the Bourbon Dynasty ruled this land.
But that year, the Titan Knights of the German Empire broke through the gates of Paris, and the monarchy fell in the flames of war.
France hastily established a republic, but the republican government was very scattered and weak; the aristocrats were not thoroughly liquidated, and they still retained land, wealth, and social influence, only losing their political privileges.
This incomplete social transformation created a special petty bourgeoisie group.
They were neither the lofty landed aristocrats, nor the greedy monopoly plutocrats, nor the destitute proletariat.
Rather, they were the middle layer who possessed a little bit of industry, a little bit of savings, and a little bit of social status—please note!
They could not be considered middle class.
Bertrand was a typical example.
He operated a small mechanical processing factory in the suburbs of Paris, employing seventy-seven workers, specializing in producing parts for textile machinery for large textile factories in the north.
Although his factory was below the definition threshold for a monopoly enterprise, he knew deeply that his survival depended entirely on those large factories.
If those large factories were nationalized and broken up, would production be interrupted?
Would orders be canceled?
If management was chaotic, would his factory go bankrupt due to a lack of orders?
“What is he trying to do?”
In the lounge, Bertrand whispered to his colleagues, his voice trembling.
“Nationalization?
Breaking them up?
What comes next then?”
“What if the workers’ committees in those large factories decide to no longer purchase our parts?
What if they demand a fifty percent price cut, or else they will ‘boycott monopoly-aligned suppliers’?
What will we do?”
“We small factories are like vines clinging to a big tree; if the big tree falls, the vines won’t survive either!”
“And have you heard?”
A female boss who ran a small textile workshop, Leclerc, interjected; her fingers were yellowed from years of contact with dyes. This story is hosted at g.com.
“Once those metallurgical plants in Lyon are under state management, heaven knows how they will manage the accounts.”
“If their product quality drops, if their delivery dates are delayed, if their management is a mess…
we small workshops that rely on their raw materials will all be finished!”
This was the new fear of the petty bourgeoisie; they were not afraid of being nationalized themselves, but rather that the chaos after nationalization would destroy the supply chain they relied on for survival.
They were the stabilizers of society, but they were also the most susceptible to wavering in a storm due to “collateral damage.”
And their wavering also left Furina’s reform bill in a precarious state; if they opposed or even left, would it lead to the division of the Republican Party itself?
On the second night, in a quiet lounge in the Bourbon Palace, the fire in the fireplace crackled.
Clemenceau pulled Furina aside; Zola was also present.
The two old men stood by the window, their backs looking exceptionally thin in the firelight.
“Madam President,” Clemenceau began, his voice gentle, as if sharing an old story.
“I have observed politics for forty years.
Today, I want to share a realization with you: politics is, in essence, the art of compromise.
The longest road is often the shortest road.”
Furina looked at him quietly, his gaze candid.
“Look at the mural on the dome,” Clemenceau pointed to the ceiling, where the Seven Divine Envoys flickered in the firelight.
“Did the Seven Divine Envoys rely on force when they established the seven nations back then?
No, they relied on compromise.”
“They compromised on their respective doctrines and the division of territory, which is how they bought five hundred years of peace.
If the Hydro Envoy had insisted on ruling all the rivers at that time, and the Pyro Envoy had insisted on burning everything, the world would have been destroyed long ago.”
Zola added, his voice hoarse but gentle:
“Bertrand and those people, they are not enemies.
But their concerns are real.”
“If there is a production interruption during the takeover of those large factories, if supply chain management is chaotic, these small businesses will indeed suffer.
Furthermore, they are the capillaries of France’s industry; once severed, the entire economy will suffer from ischemia.”
Clemenceau stepped closer, his gaze sincere:
“You have public support in your hands right now, and the loyalty of the army.
You can directly crush them, forcefully pass the original bill, let the workers manage completely autonomously, and exclude all ‘old forces’.”
“But then what?
You will get a chaotic production system.”
“Those workers’ committees might be full of enthusiasm, but they lack management experience and the ability to coordinate supply chains.
If production stagnates, if the unemployment rate rises instead of falling, if there are shortages in the market…”
“Then what should be done?”
“Buffer, training, transition,” Clemenceau said, enunciating each word as if dismantling a precision machine.
“Give Bertrand and the others some peace of mind.
Add clauses to the’State Assets Act’: Workers’ committees in nationalized enterprises must prioritize ensuring the fulfillment of existing supply chain contracts; the state will establish an ‘Industrial Production Coordination Agency’ to help with the connection between nationalized enterprises and small and medium-sized enterprises; during the transition period, retain the original business owners’ positions as technical consultants to ensure production is not interrupted.”
“At the same time, provide small and medium-sized enterprise owners with priority training opportunities to participate in the management of nationalized enterprises, letting them become technical backbones under the new system, rather than abandoned leftovers of the old era.”
Zola nodded:
“This way, you protect them, and they will protect your reforms.
Reforms need executors, and these petty bourgeoisie are precisely the best technical executors.
They understand management, they understand technology, they are just afraid of being abandoned by the times.”
Furina pondered for a long time, his fingers tapping the table lightly.
“This might hinder the integrity of the reform…”
“On the contrary,” Clemenceau’s eyes flashed with wisdom.
“This will make the reform proceed more steadily.
Radicalism is not synonymous with recklessness.
If a famine occurs due to production chaos, if unemployment occurs due to supply chain rupture, that is the true failure.”
“You don’t want temporary gratification; you want these laws to be truly executable for ten, twenty years.
To this end, you must make those centrists feel safe.
Let them know that you are not trying to destroy everything, but that you are trying to bring about change within order.”
Furina looked at the flames in the fireplace, the firelight dancing in his heterochromatic eyes.
He thought of the corpses of child laborers, he thought of the farmers’ bloody handprints.
But he also thought of the fear in Bertrand’s eyes—that was not the fear of greed, but the fear that his life’s work might be destroyed in an instant, the fear that seventy-seven workers might become unemployed.
“Fine,” he finally said.
“We will amend the bill.
But I have one condition: the transition period is only six months; after six months, the original business owners must completely withdraw from management and turn into pure technical consultants or leave.”
“Supply chain guarantee clauses only apply to existing contracts; new contracts must be subject to public bidding.
Also, they must publicly express their support; they cannot waver any longer.”
“Of course,” Clemenceau smiled, a heartfelt relief.
“Compromise is not surrender; it is an exchange.
You give them space to survive, and they give you stable production.
This is very fair.”
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