Guild politics¶

“The thing about guilds,” Lord Vetinari explained to a visiting dignitary from Quirm, “is that they make everything so wonderfully complicated.”

The dignitary, who’d been complaining about the Ankh-Morpork system, looked confused. “Surely you mean ‘organised’?”

“No,” Vetinari said pleasantly. “I mean complicated. Organisation implies efficiency. Complication implies… persistence.”

Take the recent business with the Night Soil Removers, for instance. The workers had wanted better wages and a reduction in the truly astonishing fatality rate. Reasonable requests, really. Vimes had been sympathetic.

But they hadn’t appealed directly to their employers, oh no. First, they’d gone to the Guild of Night Soil Removers, who’d consulted with the Workers’ Congress, who’d formed a joint committee with the Sanitation Oversight Board, who’d requested mediation from the Guild of Negotiators (established two years prior, specifically for this sort of thing).

The Guild of Negotiators had appointed a chief negotiator, a man named Wilkins who’d previously worked in banking and had no idea what night soil was but understood contract law beautifully. He’d entered into discussions with the Employers’ Federation, which represented the Night Soil Companies, who were themselves regulated by the Public Health Commission.

Six months later, they’d agreed to a three percent wage increase and a commitment to “explore options for improved safety protocols pending budgetary review.”

The fatality rate remained unchanged. But everyone agreed the process had been very professional.

“You see,” Vetinari continued, “if the workers had simply stopped working, we’d have had a crisis. The city would have filled with… well, better not to dwell on it. Something would have to be done immediately. Possibly something radical.”

“And instead?”

“Instead, we had a negotiation process. Very proper. Very structured. By the time it concluded, the revolutionary moment had passed. The workers got just enough to feel heard, the employers gave up just enough to seem reasonable, and the fundamental structure remained intact.”

The dignitary frowned. “But nothing really changed.”

“Exactly!” Vetinari beamed. “That’s the beauty of it. Everyone participated in the system, everyone played their role, and the system itself emerged unscathed. The guilds mediate, negotiate, facilitate, and complicate. They turn direct action into process. Process takes time. Time dissipates energy.”

Drumknott entered with tea. He’d once been a revolutionary himself, in his student days. Now he served tea and kept minutes. The transition had been so gradual he couldn’t quite remember when it happened.

“The Seamstresses’ Guild has filed a complaint about working conditions,” he reported.

“Refer them to the Workers’ Advocacy Committee,” Vetinari said.

“The Workers’ Advocacy Committee is requesting additional funding.”

“Schedule a budgetary review for next quarter.”

“The Thieves’ Guild wants to discuss their quota.”

“Arrange a meeting with the Commerce Balance Subcommittee.”

It was, Drumknott reflected, like watching someone play an instrument. Every request, every complaint, every demand for change was smoothly redirected into the vast machinery of mediation. Nothing was ever rejected. Nothing was ever approved. Everything was processed.

The dignitary was shaking his head. “In Quirm, if workers want something, they simply ask their employer.”

“How revolutionary,” Vetinari murmured. “And how often do they get it?”

“Well, sometimes—”

“Here,” Vetinari interrupted gently, “they always get something. A meeting. A committee. A review. A process. Everyone feels heard. Everyone feels involved. And by the time the process concludes, everyone has forgotten what they were asking for in the first place.”

He sipped his tea. “Democracy, my dear ambassador, is best administered in small, regulated doses. The guilds provide the regulation.”

Outside, seventeen guilds were negotiating with fourteen subcommittees about twelve proposals that would affect eight thousand people. By the time they finished, it would be next year, and everything would still be exactly the same.

Vetinari found it tremendously comforting.