The Saint of the Working Class
I was the saint of the working class. Of course, the imperial court had strictly forbidden anyone from openly treating me as a saint, but my nickname was already set in stone: "Saint Stahl." Because of this, I had to exercise absolute, meticulous caution whenever I dealt with the established powers—namely, the capitalists and the military.
The moment even a single rumor like that got out, the tower I had so painstakingly built would crumble in an instant. If a lifelong failure does one thing right, they get showered with praise. Conversely, if someone who has been perfect their entire life slips up even once, they get dragged through the mud and pelted with every curse imaginable.
"Do we really have to join hands with the conglomerates?" Archduke Franz Ferdinand suggested. "We could just produce it on a small scale at our research institute."
"That would be difficult, Your Imperial Highness. Heavy industry is a business that is impossible to even start without astronomical amounts of capital."
Although the Archduke had enough cold, hard cash to fill an entire building, founding a corporation was a different beast altogether. No matter how wealthy Franz Ferdinand was, as the heir to the throne, spending that money came with far more restrictions than one would think. Every single penny he spent was scrutinized as a political move.
"It seems it is time to dust off the Stahl-Ferdinand Model once again."
"...By the way, what exactly is this Stahl-Ferdinand Model? My name is attached to it, so people keep asking me about it, but I haven't the faintest clue what to tell them."
"The Stahl-Ferdinand Model is something that is fun, cool, and sexy."
"...?"
Throughout history, whatever a politician does eventually gets turned into an ideology named after them. Instead of calling them "Great Purge-ism" or "Great Famine-ism," they are called Stalinism, Maoism, and so on. It is quite funny how rarely these ideologies are given names that actually describe their core characteristics. But then again, when such a concept is first named, it usually just boils down to: Let's try doing what that guy did!
It wasn't up to Stahl or Ferdinand to define what the Stahl-Ferdinand Model actually was. The intellectuals would eventually find some logical consistency and define it for us. In any case, when you do something under such a sophisticated-sounding name, it gains a strange persuasiveness, no matter how bizarre it might actually be. It even looks fashionable. Even if I were to take a dump, it had to be done in the name of the Stahl-Ferdinand Model.
For the first time in a long while, I teamed up with the Social Democratic Workers' Party (SDAP) to deliver a speech. Although the imperial court had subtly warned me to quietly stick to my research, this felt more like an investor recruitment seminar than a mass public movement, so surely it would be fine. Regardless, an immense crowd had gathered.
"It has been a long time," I began. "It has already been two years since I first proposed the Stahl-Ferdinand Model. A period that could be considered short by some, and long by others. Tell me, have your lives improved even a little?"
There is no single correct answer when it comes to public speaking. Sometimes, you must crush the audience with overwhelming charisma. But today, adopting a gentle tone and letting the crowd bask in warm nostalgia felt like the right approach.
Still, most of those who had gathered to watch my first speech in ages were people who held positions in various neighborhood committees or youth leagues. In other words, they were the very people who had become utterly obsessed with mobilizing residents to sweep the streets.
"The crime rate in the slums has plummeted by over fifty percent. The streets, adorned with portraits of His Imperial Majesty, myself, and various other prominent figures, have become incomparably cleaner. Have your lives improved?"
"Yes, they have!"
"The bandits in our neighborhood are all gone now!"
"I am glad to hear that," I said. "However, if there is one thing to regret, it is that the fundamental problem has yet to be resolved."
And that was the truth. At its core, the Stahl-Ferdinand Model so far had merely been "cost-free lifestyle improvements." Sweeping the streets, selling medical lottery tickets, and so on. It gave them a reason to live by instilling hope for the future, but the vast majority of workers were still laboring for over twelve hours a day, let alone eight.
"What we have changed are merely the simplest of things. You are still working yourselves to the bone like donkeys in factories, all for a mere pittance."
"..."
"Reform must not stop here! The Stahl-Ferdinand Model has only taken its very first step. And now, I have turned my gaze to the next frontier. I declare that the Stahl-Ferdinand Model must be applied to corporations as well!"
A bombshell drop! Demanding that the Stahl-Ferdinand Model be applied to corporations sounded, in a way, like a call to "liberate" the workers from their corporate overlords. Well, that was exactly what I meant, anyway.
"Working hours must not exceed forty hours a week. Workers must be guaranteed at least two days off per week, and at least one day of paid leave per month. Furthermore, companies must provide room and board as part of employee welfare."
To a twenty-first-century citizen, this was basic common sense. But to the capitalists of this era, it would sound like that bastard Stahl had finally shown his true, red colors.
"Whoa..."
"Waaaaah!"
"Long live Stahl! Long live the revolution! Long live the Red Bonaparte!"
Naturally, the workers of the SDAP went absolutely wild, their eyes practically rolling back in excitement. Although the SDAP had been focusing on relatively "moderate" agendas like universal suffrage and an ethnic federation, their ultimate goal had always been the very "worker welfare" I was preaching.
Of course, if I stopped there, I would be branded a dirty commie without a shadow of a doubt.
"However," I raised a hand to quiet the crowd. "Unlike the other members of the party, I am a scientist. The corporate application of the Stahl-Ferdinand Model must also undergo rigorous experimentation to prove its results. And that result must be an increase in productivity. Expanding employee welfare and guaranteeing rest will inevitably lead to a surge in productivity."
"Waaaaah!"
"And I shall conduct this experiment myself, in the new nitrogen fertilizer factory I am about to build."
This was enough. Unless they met the requirements of the Stahl-Ferdinand Model, the countless corporations out there wouldn't even get a sniff of my nitrogen fixation technology.
"Director Stahl! This is preposterous! If we build a factory under these conditions, we will lose the competitive edge in no time!"
"We are well aware that you pursue communist ideals, Director. But you must look at the bigger picture! If the workers just sacrifice a little, we can eradicate starvation entirely."
"Exactly! They call you Saint Stahl, do they not? The workers must labor diligently to produce fertilizer so we can eradicate poverty!"
The industrialists who had come to negotiate did a complete about-face and began badgering me relentlessly. My terms were simple: a guaranteed eight-hour workday, overtime pay, employee dormitories, and the provision of schooling and healthcare. When I presented these conditions, they threw a far bigger fit than they did when I demanded a fifty-one percent controlling stake in the company. It was as if they literally could not function without exploiting their workers.
If you don't like it, go find someone else, I wanted to say, but pushing them too hard would only trigger a repeat of the penicillin incident. I patiently tried to coax them into a compromise.
"I will sign a contract with only one of the companies gathered here today. The rest of you will have to develop the technology on your own."
"B-but still...!"
"I trust that none of you are ignorant of just how massive a head start a single year is in heavy industry. This is my gift to the company that accepts my terms."
"Even if a company starts late, in the long run, an inefficient company is bound to be overtaken by an efficient one!"
"And what do you plan to do about the patents?" I countered.
"..."
The industrialists' eyes darted back and forth as they ran the calculations. Should they swallow their pride, adopt the worker welfare reforms they loathed more than death itself, and make a fortune? Or should they stick to their capitalistic principles?
"You all need to reconsider the Stahl-Ferdinand Model," I continued. "Unlike in the past, modern production structures demand a far greater number of skilled laborers."
"And? The labor market is practically overflowing with skilled workers you can trip over."
The industrialists did have a point. Just look at the IT industry in the twenty-first century. Highly qualified talent capable of programming flooded the job market day after day. Even if people mocked it by saying "any dog or cow can code," these were individuals with brains in at least the top ten percent of South Korea. Yet, excluding the absolute elite of that top ten percent, most of these highly skilled workers were ground down, working sixteen hours a day. Don't like it? Then leave! That was the norm. But...
"No, it is not. This is a brand-new technology. The situation here is fundamentally different from other industries."
"In what way?"
"If you apply my Stahl-Ferdinand Model, you will ensure that the very first batch of skilled workers who know how to synthesize ammonia will never be lured away by your competitors."
"Which means..."
"Yes, exactly. While your competitors are wasting precious time trying to reverse-engineer the technology and train their own skilled labor from scratch, your workforce will remain fiercely loyal. In fact, even industrial spies sent to infiltrate us will probably quit spying just to get a full-time job at our company."
"..."
"Human capital is infrastructure. Think of it as investing in machinery."
These were vicious bastards who didn't view human beings as human. Therefore, framing it this way was the only way to get through to them. After all, wasn't a human being the most difficult means of production to manufacture?
"Our initial investment will increase, but..."
"It would guarantee we seize the dominant market share."
"Given the nature of heavy industry, falling behind even once means total defeat!"
The corporate negotiators took my proposal back to their respective headquarters. A few days later, every single company agreed to my terms. Naturally, this reignited the bidding war.
"We will grant a fifty-one percent stake to the Stahl-Ferdinand Research Institute! The institute can retain full operational control!"
"We plan to establish a separate research facility, and all research achievements will belong solely to Director Stahl!"
"We have prepared a small token of our appreciation..."
They offered us overwhelming concessions and even brought briefcases stuffed with gold bars, desperately trying to win my favor. However...
This isn't what I want.
Sure, making a lot of money was nice. But because of the public image I had cultivated, having too much personal wealth would actually become a political liability. My goal was the acquisition of political power, not a mountain of cash. Thus, these corporate ventures were merely a means to an end, not the end itself. And then...
"C-Chairman Wittgenstein...!"
"Has the Chairman come here in person?!"
The moment the titan made his appearance at the institute, the corporate representatives who had gathered to negotiate went into a frenzy. Wittgenstein. It was a name no student of philosophy could possibly be ignorant of. In fact, in the twenty-first century, the philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein was far more famous. However, there was a lesser-known fact about that philosopher: he was the youngest son of an incredibly wealthy tycoon. The Wittgenstein family was one of the top five wealthiest dynasties not just in Austria, but in all of Europe. And the patriarch of that family, Karl Wittgenstein, had come in person.
"So you are Director Stahl? You are younger than I expected," Karl Wittgenstein remarked.
I, too, was deeply taken aback, having never anticipated that a figure of his stature would pay me a personal visit.
"Even though you have come in person, Chairman... the negotiations will be conducted fairly," I managed to say.
"Of course. You are close with His Imperial Majesty, are you not? More than that, I simply came out of curiosity."
"Curiosity?"
"When I was young, I also advocated for materialism in a Gymnasium essay, just like you did. I got expelled and had to flee to America."
"...Excuse me?"
First a red crown prince, then a red emperor, and now a red capitalist? What kind of Suicide Squad lineup was this? In truth, Chairman Wittgenstein occupied a highly unique position among capitalists. He had built his empire on manufacturing rather than finance, focused his investments primarily on industrial production, and poured astronomical sums of money into the arts, making him far more famous in Austrian musical and artistic circles as a grand patron than as a mere tycoon.
"So, how do you plan to proceed with the negotiations?" he asked.
"There is a fact that capitalists always overlook," I replied. "The risk of strikes is far greater than they think."
"Indeed."
"So I had an idea," Wittgenstein said. "What if the labor union became shareholders of the company? Wouldn't that, at the very least, eliminate the risk of strikes?"
I found myself increasingly drawn to Chairman Wittgenstein, who was casually spouting extraordinary ideas the moment he sat down at the negotiating table. An anarcho-capitalist-Bolshevik? What kind of terrifying chimera was this? In any case, this was the moment the establishment of the Stahl-Ferdinand-Wittgenstein Chemical Company was decided. The name was getting ridiculously long. Perhaps we should just shorten it to the SFW Chemical Company.