So far we have treated the part of the working day where the worker just produces enough to cover the value of their labour-power as a fixed amount. Given the production conditions at a certain stage of society, that is exactly what it is. Beyond that necessary labour-time, the worker might put in 2, 3, 4, or 6 more hours. The rate of surplus-value and the length of the total working day depended on how much this extra time got stretched. The necessary labour-time was fixed; the total working day was variable.
But now suppose we have a working day whose length is already set, and whose split between necessary labour and surplus-labour is already given. Picture a 12-hour day as a line: a __________ b __ c. The piece a b is 10 hours of necessary labour, and the piece b c is 2 hours of surplus-labour. How can surplus-value be increased—how can the surplus-labour be stretched—without making the total day a c any longer?
Even with the total day a c fixed, the surplus-labour b c appears stretchable. If it cannot grow by pushing past c (which is the end of the whole day), it can still grow by pushing its start-point b backward toward a.
Take a line a _________ b' _ b __ c. Say the distance b' to b is half of b c, or one hour. If we slide b back to b', the surplus-labour stretches from b c to b' c. The surplus-labour grows by half, from 2 hours to 3, while the total day stays exactly 12 hours.
But plainly, stretching the surplus-labour like this is impossible without simultaneously squeezing the necessary labour down from a b to a b', from 10 hours to 9. Stretching the surplus-labour means shrinking the necessary labour. A piece of the day the worker used to spend working for themselves transforms into time worked for the capitalist. What changes is not the length of the day, but its division into necessary labour and surplus-labour.
On the other hand, the amount of surplus-labour seems completely locked in place once the total day and the value of labour-power are given. The value of labour-power dictates the time needed to reproduce that value. Say one hour of work shows up as half a shilling (6 pence), and the daily value of labour-power is 5 shillings. The worker must labour 10 hours just to replace what the capitalist paid for their day's capacity to work—or to produce an equivalent for their daily necessities. The value of those necessities fixes the value of labour-power, which fixes the necessary labour-time. You get the surplus-labour by subtracting the necessary labour-time from the total day. Subtract 10 hours from 12, and 2 hours remain. It seems impossible for surplus-labour to grow beyond 2 hours under these conditions.
Of course, the capitalist might just pay the worker 4 shillings 6 pence instead of 5 shillings. Replacing 4 shillings 6 pence would only take 9 hours, which leaves 3 hours of surplus-labour instead of 2, raising surplus-value from 1 shilling to 1 shilling 6 pence.
But this result is achieved solely by pushing the worker's wage below the value of their labour-power. With 4 shillings 6 pence, the worker buys one-tenth fewer necessities, so their capacity to work only gets stunted, partially reproduced. This would stretch surplus-labour by breaking past its normal limits, invading the rightful territory of necessary labour-time.
Despite how much this method matters in actual wage battles, we rule it out entirely here by holding to our assumption: all commodities, including labour-power, are bought and sold at their full value. Given that assumption, the time needed to reproduce labour-power cannot drop just because the wage is pushed below its value. It can only drop if the value itself falls. With the day's length fixed, stretching the surplus-labour must spring from shrinking the necessary labour-time—not the other way around. In our example, the value of labour-power must actually fall by one-tenth for necessary labour-time to drop from 10 hours to 9, allowing surplus-labour to grow from 2 hours to 3.
For the value of labour-power to drop by one-tenth, the exact same daily necessities that previously took 10 hours to make must now be produced in 9. This is impossible without a rise in the productive power of labour.
With his current tools, a shoemaker might make one pair of boots in a 12-hour day. To make two pairs in that same time, the productive power of his labour has to double. That cannot happen without a change in his tools, his method, or both. The conditions of production—his mode of production, and the very labour-process itself—must go through a revolution.
By a rise in the productive power of labour we mean any change in the labour-process that shortens the socially necessary labour-time needed to produce a commodity, so a smaller amount of labour gains the power to produce a larger amount of use-values.
Previously, when looking at surplus-value produced just by extending the working day, we assumed the mode of production was fixed. But to produce surplus-value by turning necessary labour into surplus-labour, it is nowhere near enough for capital to simply take over the labour-process as it has historically been handed down and stretch out its hours. Capital must revolutionize the technical and social conditions of the process. It must overturn the mode of production itself to raise the productive power of labour, use that rise to sink the value of labour-power, and thereby shrink the part of the day needed to replace that value.
Surplus-value produced by lengthening the working day I call absolute surplus-value. The surplus-value that instead springs from shortening necessary labour-time, with the corresponding shift in how the two parts of the day measure up, I call relative surplus-value.
To sink the value of labour-power, the rise in productive power has to grab hold of industries whose products set that value. These are either everyday necessities themselves, or things that can substitute for them.
But remember, the value of a commodity is set not just by the labour that gives it its final form, but also by the mass of labour tied up in its means of production. A pair of boots carries not just the shoemaker's labour, but the value of the leather, pitch, and thread. So when industries that supply the material elements—the tools and raw materials—used to make everyday necessities raise their productive power and turn out cheaper goods, that also sinks the value of labour-power.
But if a branch of production makes neither necessities nor the means to make them, a rise in its productive power leaves the value of labour-power completely untouched.
A cheaper commodity obviously lowers the value of labour-power only pro tanto—only by the share it holds in reproducing that capacity to work. Shirts, for instance, are a necessity, but only one among many. Making shirts cheaper just trims what the worker spends on shirts. The whole basket of necessities is just different commodities, each the product of a specific industry, and the value of each one forms a fractional part of the value of labour-power. This total value drops as the labour-time needed to reproduce it drops, and its total drop is the sum of all the time saved across every one of those distinct industries.
Here we treat this overall result as if it were the direct goal in every single case. But when an individual capitalist raises productive power to make shirts cheaper, lowering the value of labour-power and shaving down necessary labour-time is not necessarily on their mind at all. Yet it is only insofar as they eventually contribute to this result that they help raise the general rate of surplus-value.
Capital's general, necessary tendencies must be kept separate from the forms in which they appear.
How the immanent laws of capitalist production show up in the outward movements of capital—how they press upon the individual capitalist as coercive laws of competition and register in their mind as driving motives—is not our subject just yet. But one thing is clear from the start: a scientific analysis of competition is only possible once the inner nature of capital is grasped. It is exactly like the apparent movements of the heavenly bodies, which only make sense to someone who knows their real, invisible motion.
Still, purely on the basis of what we have already worked out, we can note the following to help make sense of how relative surplus-value is produced.
Say one hour of labour equals 6 pence. A 12-hour working day creates a new value of 6 shillings. Suppose that with the current productive power, 12 articles are made in those 12 hours. Let the value of the means of production used up in each article—raw materials, and so on—be 6 pence. Each article then costs 1 shilling: 6 pence for the means of production, 6 pence for the new value added by working them.
Now imagine a capitalist manages to double his productive power, turning out 24 articles instead of 12 in that same 12-hour day. If the value of the means of production stays the same, each article now costs only 9 pence: 6 pence for the means of production, and 3 pence for the new value added. Even with doubled output, the day’s labour still creates only 6 shillings of new value, but that sum is now spread across twice as many products. Each article now gets 1/24 of the total value instead of 1/12, or 3 pence instead of 6 pence. Put another way: only half an hour of labour is now added to the means of production for each article, instead of a full hour.
The individual value of these articles is now below their social value. They cost less labour-time than the great mass of identical articles produced under average social conditions. On average, an article costs 1 shilling and represents 2 hours of social labour; under the altered mode of production, it costs only 9 pence and holds 1½ hours of labour.
The real value of a commodity is not its individual value, but its social value—it is measured not by how much time it actually cost the specific producer, but by the socially required labour-time. So if the capitalist using the new method sells his article at its social value of 1 shilling, he sells it 3 pence above its individual value, and pockets an extra surplus-value of 3 pence.
Meanwhile, his 12-hour day now takes the shape of 24 articles instead of 12. To sell one day's product, he must sell twice as much — a market twice as large. All else being equal, his goods can only win more market space by dropping their price. He will therefore sell them above their individual value but below their social value—say, at 10 pence each. By doing this, he still squeezes out an extra surplus-value of 1 penny per article. He gets this boost whether or not his article belongs to the class of necessities that determine the value of labour-power. Setting that aside, every single capitalist has a motive to cheapen commodities by raising the productive power of labour.
Nevertheless, even in this case, the increased production of surplus-value springs from shortening necessary labour-time and drawing out the corresponding surplus-labour.
Let necessary labour-time be 10 hours, meaning the day's labour-power costs 5 shillings, with 2 hours of surplus-labour producing 1 shilling of surplus-value. But our capitalist now produces 24 articles, selling them at 10 pence each, or 20 shillings total. Since the value of the means of production is 12 shillings, it takes 14 2/5 articles just to replace the constant capital advanced. The 12-hour working day is represented by the remaining 9 3/5 articles.
Since the price of labour-power is 5 shillings, the necessary labour-time shows up in 6 articles, leaving 3 3/5 articles representing surplus-labour. The ratio of necessary labour to surplus-labour, which under average social conditions was 5 : 1, is now 5 : 3.
You reach the same result this way: the product of the 12-hour day is worth 20 shillings. Of that, 12 shillings belong to the means of production, a value merely re-appearing. That leaves 8 shillings as the money expression of the value newly created during the day. This is higher than the money expression of average social labour of the same kind, where 12 hours show up as only 6 shillings. Labour of exceptional productive power acts as labour raised to a higher power; it creates greater values in the same amount of time than average social labour of its kind.
But our capitalist still pays only 5 shillings for the day's labour-power. So instead of needing 10 hours to reproduce this value, the worker now needs only 7½ hours. Surplus-labour therefore grows by 2½ hours, and the surplus-value produced jumps from 1 shilling to 3.
The capitalist using the improved method appropriates a larger part of the working day for surplus-labour than his competitors in the same trade. He does in the single case what capital as a whole does on a grand scale in producing relative surplus-value.
On the other hand, that extra surplus-value vanishes the moment the new mode of production generalizes, because the gap between the individual value of the cheapened commodities and their social value disappears. The very same law that forces the innovating capitalist to sell below social value now acts as a coercive law of competition, driving his rivals to adopt the new method. The general rate of surplus-value is touched by this whole process only at the end—only when the rise in productive power has grabbed hold of industries that make necessities, thereby cheapening the elements that form the value of labour-power.
The value of commodities is inversely related to the productive power of labour. The value of labour-power, being determined by commodity values, is also inversely related to it. Relative surplus-value, by contrast, is directly related to the productive power of labour. It rises when productive power rises, and falls when it falls.
Assuming the value of money stays steady, a 12-hour social working day always produces the exact same new value of 6 shillings, no matter how that sum splits between replacing the value of labour-power and providing surplus-value.
But if a rise in productive power cheapens daily necessities, and the daily value of labour-power thereby drops from 5 shillings to 3 shillings, surplus-value grows from 1 shilling to 3. To reproduce the value of labour-power, 10 hours were needed; now only 6 are needed. Four working hours are set free and annexed to the domain of surplus-labour.
Therefore it is capital's built-in, constant drive to raise the productive power of labour, in order to cheapen commodities—and through the cheapening of commodities, to cheapen the worker himself.
The absolute value of a commodity means nothing in itself to the capitalist who produces it. He only cares about the surplus-value trapped inside it, which he can realize by selling it. Realizing that surplus-value naturally includes getting back the value he advanced in the first place.
Since relative surplus-value grows in direct proportion to the development of the productive power of labour, while the value of commodities falls in inverse proportion to that exact same development, one identical process both cheapens commodities and raises the surplus-value they contain.
This solves a riddle: why does the capitalist, who only cares about exchange-value, constantly strive to depress the exchange-value of commodities? It was a contradiction that Quesnay, one of the founders of political economy, used to torment his opponents, and they could never give him an answer.
"You admit," Quesnay said, "that the more one can save in expense or costly operations in the making of industrial products, without hurting production, the more advantageous that saving is, because it lowers the price of the finished work. And yet you believe that the production of the wealth derived from the labour of industry consists of increasing the exchange-value of their manufactured goods."
The saving of labour gained by developing its productive power does not aim to shorten the working day. It aims only to shorten the labour-time needed to produce a given quantity of goods. If a worker produces ten times as much in an hour as before, needing a tenth of the time for each article, that does not stop the capitalist from keeping them at work for 12 hours and making them turn out 1,200 articles instead of 120. The working day might even be lengthened, so the worker produces 1,400 articles in 14 hours.
So you can read writers like MacCulloch, Ure, Senior and the rest saying on one page that the worker owes capital a debt of gratitude for developing productive power, since it shortens necessary labour-time—and on the next page, that the worker must prove this gratitude by working 15 hours instead of 10.
Within capitalist production, developing the productive power of labour aims to shorten the part of the day the worker must spend labouring for themselves, purely in order to lengthen the other part of the day they spend working for free for the capitalist. How far this can be achieved without cheapening commodities will become clear in the specific methods of producing relative surplus-value, which we now turn to.
So far we have treated the part of the working day where the worker just produces enough to cover the value of their labour-power as a fixed amount. Given the production conditions at a certain stage of society, that is exactly what it is. Beyond that necessary labour-time, the worker might put in 2, 3, 4, or 6 more hours. The rate of surplus-value and the length of the total working day depended on how much this extra time got stretched. The necessary labour-time was fixed; the total working day was variable.
But now suppose we have a working day whose length is already set, and whose split between necessary labour and surplus-labour is already given. Picture a 12-hour day as a line: a __________ b __ c. The piece a b is 10 hours of necessary labour, and the piece b c is 2 hours of surplus-labour. How can surplus-value be increased—how can the surplus-labour be stretched—without making the total day a c any longer?
Even with the total day a c fixed, the surplus-labour b c appears stretchable. If it cannot grow by pushing past c (which is the end of the whole day), it can still grow by pushing its start-point b backward toward a.
Take a line a _________ b' _ b __ c. Say the distance b' to b is half of b c, or one hour. If we slide b back to b', the surplus-labour stretches from b c to b' c. The surplus-labour grows by half, from 2 hours to 3, while the total day stays exactly 12 hours.
But plainly, stretching the surplus-labour like this is impossible without simultaneously squeezing the necessary labour down from a b to a b', from 10 hours to 9. Stretching the surplus-labour means shrinking the necessary labour. A piece of the day the worker used to spend working for themselves transforms into time worked for the capitalist. What changes is not the length of the day, but its division into necessary labour and surplus-labour.
On the other hand, the amount of surplus-labour seems completely locked in place once the total day and the value of labour-power are given. The value of labour-power dictates the time needed to reproduce that value. Say one hour of work shows up as half a shilling (6 pence), and the daily value of labour-power is 5 shillings. The worker must labour 10 hours just to replace what the capitalist paid for their day's capacity to work—or to produce an equivalent for their daily necessities. The value of those necessities fixes the value of labour-power, which fixes the necessary labour-time. You get the surplus-labour by subtracting the necessary labour-time from the total day. Subtract 10 hours from 12, and 2 hours remain. It seems impossible for surplus-labour to grow beyond 2 hours under these conditions.
Of course, the capitalist might just pay the worker 4 shillings 6 pence instead of 5 shillings. Replacing 4 shillings 6 pence would only take 9 hours, which leaves 3 hours of surplus-labour instead of 2, raising surplus-value from 1 shilling to 1 shilling 6 pence.
But this result is achieved solely by pushing the worker's wage below the value of their labour-power. With 4 shillings 6 pence, the worker buys one-tenth fewer necessities, so their capacity to work only gets stunted, partially reproduced. This would stretch surplus-labour by breaking past its normal limits, invading the rightful territory of necessary labour-time.
Despite how much this method matters in actual wage battles, we rule it out entirely here by holding to our assumption: all commodities, including labour-power, are bought and sold at their full value. Given that assumption, the time needed to reproduce labour-power cannot drop just because the wage is pushed below its value. It can only drop if the value itself falls. With the day's length fixed, stretching the surplus-labour must spring from shrinking the necessary labour-time—not the other way around. In our example, the value of labour-power must actually fall by one-tenth for necessary labour-time to drop from 10 hours to 9, allowing surplus-labour to grow from 2 hours to 3.
For the value of labour-power to drop by one-tenth, the exact same daily necessities that previously took 10 hours to make must now be produced in 9. This is impossible without a rise in the productive power of labour.
With his current tools, a shoemaker might make one pair of boots in a 12-hour day. To make two pairs in that same time, the productive power of his labour has to double. That cannot happen without a change in his tools, his method, or both. The conditions of production—his mode of production, and the very labour-process itself—must go through a revolution.
By a rise in the productive power of labour we mean any change in the labour-process that shortens the socially necessary labour-time needed to produce a commodity, so a smaller amount of labour gains the power to produce a larger amount of use-values.
Previously, when looking at surplus-value produced just by extending the working day, we assumed the mode of production was fixed. But to produce surplus-value by turning necessary labour into surplus-labour, it is nowhere near enough for capital to simply take over the labour-process as it has historically been handed down and stretch out its hours. Capital must revolutionize the technical and social conditions of the process. It must overturn the mode of production itself to raise the productive power of labour, use that rise to sink the value of labour-power, and thereby shrink the part of the day needed to replace that value.
Surplus-value produced by lengthening the working day I call absolute surplus-value. The surplus-value that instead springs from shortening necessary labour-time, with the corresponding shift in how the two parts of the day measure up, I call relative surplus-value.
To sink the value of labour-power, the rise in productive power has to grab hold of industries whose products set that value. These are either everyday necessities themselves, or things that can substitute for them.
But remember, the value of a commodity is set not just by the labour that gives it its final form, but also by the mass of labour tied up in its means of production. A pair of boots carries not just the shoemaker's labour, but the value of the leather, pitch, and thread. So when industries that supply the material elements—the tools and raw materials—used to make everyday necessities raise their productive power and turn out cheaper goods, that also sinks the value of labour-power.
But if a branch of production makes neither necessities nor the means to make them, a rise in its productive power leaves the value of labour-power completely untouched.
A cheaper commodity obviously lowers the value of labour-power only pro tanto—only by the share it holds in reproducing that capacity to work. Shirts, for instance, are a necessity, but only one among many. Making shirts cheaper just trims what the worker spends on shirts. The whole basket of necessities is just different commodities, each the product of a specific industry, and the value of each one forms a fractional part of the value of labour-power. This total value drops as the labour-time needed to reproduce it drops, and its total drop is the sum of all the time saved across every one of those distinct industries.
Here we treat this overall result as if it were the direct goal in every single case. But when an individual capitalist raises productive power to make shirts cheaper, lowering the value of labour-power and shaving down necessary labour-time is not necessarily on their mind at all. Yet it is only insofar as they eventually contribute to this result that they help raise the general rate of surplus-value.
Capital's general, necessary tendencies must be kept separate from the forms in which they appear.
How the immanent laws of capitalist production show up in the outward movements of capital—how they press upon the individual capitalist as coercive laws of competition and register in their mind as driving motives—is not our subject just yet. But one thing is clear from the start: a scientific analysis of competition is only possible once the inner nature of capital is grasped. It is exactly like the apparent movements of the heavenly bodies, which only make sense to someone who knows their real, invisible motion.
Still, purely on the basis of what we have already worked out, we can note the following to help make sense of how relative surplus-value is produced.
Say one hour of labour equals 6 pence. A 12-hour working day creates a new value of 6 shillings. Suppose that with the current productive power, 12 articles are made in those 12 hours. Let the value of the means of production used up in each article—raw materials, and so on—be 6 pence. Each article then costs 1 shilling: 6 pence for the means of production, 6 pence for the new value added by working them.
Now imagine a capitalist manages to double his productive power, turning out 24 articles instead of 12 in that same 12-hour day. If the value of the means of production stays the same, each article now costs only 9 pence: 6 pence for the means of production, and 3 pence for the new value added. Even with doubled output, the day’s labour still creates only 6 shillings of new value, but that sum is now spread across twice as many products. Each article now gets 1/24 of the total value instead of 1/12, or 3 pence instead of 6 pence. Put another way: only half an hour of labour is now added to the means of production for each article, instead of a full hour.
The individual value of these articles is now below their social value. They cost less labour-time than the great mass of identical articles produced under average social conditions. On average, an article costs 1 shilling and represents 2 hours of social labour; under the altered mode of production, it costs only 9 pence and holds 1½ hours of labour.
The real value of a commodity is not its individual value, but its social value—it is measured not by how much time it actually cost the specific producer, but by the socially required labour-time. So if the capitalist using the new method sells his article at its social value of 1 shilling, he sells it 3 pence above its individual value, and pockets an extra surplus-value of 3 pence.
Meanwhile, his 12-hour day now takes the shape of 24 articles instead of 12. To sell one day's product, he must sell twice as much — a market twice as large. All else being equal, his goods can only win more market space by dropping their price. He will therefore sell them above their individual value but below their social value—say, at 10 pence each. By doing this, he still squeezes out an extra surplus-value of 1 penny per article. He gets this boost whether or not his article belongs to the class of necessities that determine the value of labour-power. Setting that aside, every single capitalist has a motive to cheapen commodities by raising the productive power of labour.
Nevertheless, even in this case, the increased production of surplus-value springs from shortening necessary labour-time and drawing out the corresponding surplus-labour.
Let necessary labour-time be 10 hours, meaning the day's labour-power costs 5 shillings, with 2 hours of surplus-labour producing 1 shilling of surplus-value. But our capitalist now produces 24 articles, selling them at 10 pence each, or 20 shillings total. Since the value of the means of production is 12 shillings, it takes 14 2/5 articles just to replace the constant capital advanced. The 12-hour working day is represented by the remaining 9 3/5 articles.
Since the price of labour-power is 5 shillings, the necessary labour-time shows up in 6 articles, leaving 3 3/5 articles representing surplus-labour. The ratio of necessary labour to surplus-labour, which under average social conditions was 5 : 1, is now 5 : 3.
You reach the same result this way: the product of the 12-hour day is worth 20 shillings. Of that, 12 shillings belong to the means of production, a value merely re-appearing. That leaves 8 shillings as the money expression of the value newly created during the day. This is higher than the money expression of average social labour of the same kind, where 12 hours show up as only 6 shillings. Labour of exceptional productive power acts as labour raised to a higher power; it creates greater values in the same amount of time than average social labour of its kind.
But our capitalist still pays only 5 shillings for the day's labour-power. So instead of needing 10 hours to reproduce this value, the worker now needs only 7½ hours. Surplus-labour therefore grows by 2½ hours, and the surplus-value produced jumps from 1 shilling to 3.
The capitalist using the improved method appropriates a larger part of the working day for surplus-labour than his competitors in the same trade. He does in the single case what capital as a whole does on a grand scale in producing relative surplus-value.
On the other hand, that extra surplus-value vanishes the moment the new mode of production generalizes, because the gap between the individual value of the cheapened commodities and their social value disappears. The very same law that forces the innovating capitalist to sell below social value now acts as a coercive law of competition, driving his rivals to adopt the new method. The general rate of surplus-value is touched by this whole process only at the end—only when the rise in productive power has grabbed hold of industries that make necessities, thereby cheapening the elements that form the value of labour-power.
The value of commodities is inversely related to the productive power of labour. The value of labour-power, being determined by commodity values, is also inversely related to it. Relative surplus-value, by contrast, is directly related to the productive power of labour. It rises when productive power rises, and falls when it falls.
Assuming the value of money stays steady, a 12-hour social working day always produces the exact same new value of 6 shillings, no matter how that sum splits between replacing the value of labour-power and providing surplus-value.
But if a rise in productive power cheapens daily necessities, and the daily value of labour-power thereby drops from 5 shillings to 3 shillings, surplus-value grows from 1 shilling to 3. To reproduce the value of labour-power, 10 hours were needed; now only 6 are needed. Four working hours are set free and annexed to the domain of surplus-labour.
Therefore it is capital's built-in, constant drive to raise the productive power of labour, in order to cheapen commodities—and through the cheapening of commodities, to cheapen the worker himself.
The absolute value of a commodity means nothing in itself to the capitalist who produces it. He only cares about the surplus-value trapped inside it, which he can realize by selling it. Realizing that surplus-value naturally includes getting back the value he advanced in the first place.
Since relative surplus-value grows in direct proportion to the development of the productive power of labour, while the value of commodities falls in inverse proportion to that exact same development, one identical process both cheapens commodities and raises the surplus-value they contain.
This solves a riddle: why does the capitalist, who only cares about exchange-value, constantly strive to depress the exchange-value of commodities? It was a contradiction that Quesnay, one of the founders of political economy, used to torment his opponents, and they could never give him an answer.
"You admit," Quesnay said, "that the more one can save in expense or costly operations in the making of industrial products, without hurting production, the more advantageous that saving is, because it lowers the price of the finished work. And yet you believe that the production of the wealth derived from the labour of industry consists of increasing the exchange-value of their manufactured goods."
The saving of labour gained by developing its productive power does not aim to shorten the working day. It aims only to shorten the labour-time needed to produce a given quantity of goods. If a worker produces ten times as much in an hour as before, needing a tenth of the time for each article, that does not stop the capitalist from keeping them at work for 12 hours and making them turn out 1,200 articles instead of 120. The working day might even be lengthened, so the worker produces 1,400 articles in 14 hours.
So you can read writers like MacCulloch, Ure, Senior and the rest saying on one page that the worker owes capital a debt of gratitude for developing productive power, since it shortens necessary labour-time—and on the next page, that the worker must prove this gratitude by working 15 hours instead of 10.
Within capitalist production, developing the productive power of labour aims to shorten the part of the day the worker must spend labouring for themselves, purely in order to lengthen the other part of the day they spend working for free for the capitalist. How far this can be achieved without cheapening commodities will become clear in the specific methods of producing relative surplus-value, which we now turn to.