CHAPTER V. PSYCHOLOGICAL EXPOSITION OF THE IDEA OF JUSTICE

PSYCHOLOGICAL EXPOSITION OF THE IDEA OF JUSTICE AND

INJUSTICE, AND A DETERMINATION OF THE PRINCIPLE OF

GOVERNMENT AND OF RIGHT.

Property is impossible; equality does not exist. We hate the former, and

yet wish to possess it; the latter rules all our thoughts, yet we know

not how to reach it. Who will explain this profound antagonism between

our conscience and our will? Who will point out the causes of this

pernicious error, which has become the most sacred principle of justice

and society?

I am bold enough to undertake the task, and I hope to succeed.

But before explaining why man has violated justice, it is necessary to

determine what justice is.

PART FIRST.

% 1.--Of the Moral Sense in Man and the Animals.

The philosophers have endeavored often to locate the line which

separates man's intelligence from that of the brutes; and, according

to their general custom, they gave utterance to much foolishness before

resolving upon the only course possible for them to take,--observation.

It was reserved for an unpretending savant--who perhaps did not pride

himself on his philosophy--to put an end to the interminable controversy

by a simple distinction; but one of those luminous distinctions which

are worth more than systems. Frederic Cuvier separated INSTINCT from

INTELLIGENCE.

But, as yet, no one has proposed this question:--

IS THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN MAN'S MORAL SENSE AND THAT OF THE BRUTE A

DIFFERENCE IN KIND OR ONLY IN DEGREE?

If, hitherto, any one had dared to maintain the latter alternative, his

arguments would have seemed scandalous, blasphemous, and offensive to

morality and religion. The ecclesiastical and secular tribunals would

have condemned him with one voice. And, mark the style in which they

would have branded the immoral paradox! "Conscience,"--they would have

cried,--"conscience, man's chief glory, was given to him exclusively;

the notion of justice and injustice, of merit and demerit, is his noble

privilege; to man, alone,--the lord of creation,--belongs the sublime

power to resist his worldly propensities, to choose between good and

evil, and to bring himself more and more into the resemblance of God

through liberty and justice.... No; the holy image of virtue was never

graven save on the heart of man." Words full of feeling, but void of

sense.

Man is a rational and social animal--{GREEK ' c g}--said Aristotle. This

definition is worth more than all which have been given since. I do not

except even M. de Bonald's celebrated definition,--MAN IS AN INTELLECT

SERVED BY ORGANS--a definition which has the double fault of explaining

the known by the unknown; that is, the living being by the intellect;

and of neglecting man's essential quality,--animality.

Man, then, is an animal living in society. Society means the sum total

of relationships; in short, system. Now, all systems exist only on

certain conditions. What, then, are the conditions, the LAWS, of human

society?

What are the RIGHTS of men with respect to each other; what is JUSTICE?

It amounts to nothing to say,--with the philosophers of various

schools,--"It is a divine instinct, an immortal and heavenly voice, a

guide given us by Nature, a light revealed unto every man on coming

into the world, a law engraved upon our hearts; it is the voice of

conscience, the dictum of reason, the inspiration of sentiment, the

penchant of feeling; it is the love of self in others; it is enlightened

self-interest; or else it is an innate idea, the imperative command of

applied reason, which has its source in the concepts of pure reason;

it is a passional attraction," &c., &c. This may be as true as it seems

beautiful; but it is utterly meaningless. Though we should prolong

this litany through ten pages (it has been filtered through a thousand

volumes), we should be no nearer to the solution of the question.

"Justice is public utility," says Aristotle. That is true, but it is a

tautology. "The principle that the public welfare ought to be the

object of the legislator"--says M. Ch. Comte in his "Treatise on

Legislation"--"cannot be overthrown. But legislation is advanced no

farther by its announcement and demonstration, than is medicine when it

is said that it is the business of physicians to cure the sick."

Let us take another course. RUGHT is the sum total of the principles

which govern society. Justice, in man, is the respect and observation of

those principles. To practise justice is to obey the social instinct;

to do an act of justice is to do a social act. If, then, we watch the

conduct of men towards each other under different circumstances, it

will be easy for us to distinguish between the presence and absence of

society; from the result we may inductively infer the law.

Let us commence with the simplest and least doubtful cases.

The mother, who protects her son at the peril of her life, and

sacrifices every thing to his support, is in society with him--she is a

good mother. She, on the contrary, who abandons her child, is unfaithful

to the social instinct,--maternal love being one of its many features;

she is an unnatural mother.

If I plunge into the water to rescue a drowning man, I am his brother,

his associate; if, instead of aiding him, I sink him, I am his enemy,

his murderer.

Whoever bestows alms treats the poor man as his associate; not

thoroughly, it is true, but only in respect to the amount which he

shares with him. Whoever takes by force or stratagem that which is

not the product of his labor, destroys his social character--he is a

brigand.

The Samaritan who relieves the traveller lying by the wayside, dresses

his wounds, comforts him, and supplies him with money, thereby declares

himself his associate--his neighbor; the priest, who passes by on the

other side, remains unassociated, and is his enemy.

In all these cases, man is moved by an internal attraction towards his

fellow, by a secret sympathy which causes him to love, congratulate,

and condole; so that, to resist this attraction, his will must struggle

against his nature.

But in these respects there is no decided difference between man and the

animals. With them, as long as the weakness of their young endears them

to their mothers,--in a word, associates them with their mothers,--the

latter protect the former, at the peril of their lives, with a courage

which reminds us of our heroes dying for their country. Certain species

unite for hunting purposes, seek each other, call each other (a poet

would say invite each other), to share their prey; in danger they

aid, protect, and warn each other. The elephant knows how to help his

companion out of the ditch into which the latter has fallen. Cows form

a circle, with their horns outward and their calves in the centre, in

order to repel the attacks of wolves. Horses and pigs, on hearing a cry

of distress from one of their number, rush to the spot whence it comes.

What descriptions I might give of their marriages, the tenderness of the

males towards the females, and the fidelity of their loves! Let us add,

however,--to be entirely just--that these touching demonstrations of

society, fraternity, and love of neighbor, do not prevent the animals

from quarrelling, fighting, and outrageously abusing one another while

gaining their livelihood and showing their gallantry; the resemblance

between them and ourselves is perfect.

The social instinct, in man and beast, exists to a greater or less

degree--its nature is the same. Man has the greater need of association,

and employs it more; the animal seems better able to endure isolation.

In man, social needs are more imperative and complex; in the beast, they

seem less intense, less diversified, less regretted. Society, in a

word, aims, in the case of man, at the preservation of the race and

the individual; with the animals, its object is more exclusively the

preservation of the race.

As yet, we have met with no claim which man can make for himself alone.

The social instinct and the moral sense he shares with the brutes; and

when he thinks to become god-like by a few acts of charity, justice,

and devotion, he does not perceive that in so acting he simply obeys an

instinct wholly animal in its nature. As we are good, loving, tender,

just, so we are passionate, greedy, lewd, and vindictive; that is, we

are like the beasts. Our highest virtues appear, in the last analysis,

as blind, impulsive instincts. What subjects for canonization and

apotheosis!

There is, however, a difference between us two-handed bipeds and other

living creatures--what is it?

A student of philosophy would hasten to reply: "This difference lies in

the fact that we are conscious of our social faculty, while the animals

are unconscious of theirs--in the fact that while we reflect and reason

upon the operation of our social instinct, the animals do nothing of the

kind."

I will go farther. It is by our reflective and reasoning powers,

with which we seem to be exclusively endowed, that we know that it is

injurious, first to others and then to ourselves, to resist the social

instinct which governs us, and which we call JUSTICE. It is our reason

which teaches us that the selfish man, the robber, the murderer--in a

word, the traitor to society--sins against Nature, and is guilty with

respect to others and himself, when he does wrong wilfully. Finally, it

is our social sentiment on the one hand, and our reason on the

other, which cause us to think that beings such as we should take the

responsibility of their acts. Such is the principle of remorse, revenge,

and penal justice.

But this proves only an intellectual diversity between the animals and

man, not at all an affectional one; for, although we reason upon our

relations with our fellows, we likewise reason upon our most trivial

actions,--such as drinking, eating, choosing a wife, or selecting a

dwelling-place. We reason upon things earthly and things heavenly; there

is nothing to which our reasoning powers are not applicable. Now,

just as the knowledge of external phenomena, which we acquire, has no

influence upon their causes and laws, so reflection, by illuminating our

instinct, enlightens us as to our sentient nature, but does not alter

its character; it tells us what our morality is, but neither changes nor

modifies it. Our dissatisfaction with ourselves after doing wrong,

the indignation which we feel at the sight of injustice, the idea of

deserved punishment and due remuneration, are effects of reflection, and

not immediate effects of instinct and emotion. Our appreciation (I do

not say exclusive appreciation, for the animals also realize that they

have done wrong, and are indignant when one of their number is attacked,

but), our infinitely superior appreciation of our social duties, our

knowledge of good and evil, does not establish, as regards morality, any

vital difference between man and the beasts.

% 2.--Of the first and second degrees of Sociability.

I insist upon the fact, which I have just pointed out, as one of the

most important facts of anthropology.

The sympathetic attraction, which causes us to associate, is, by reason

of its blind, unruly nature, always governed by temporary impulse,

without regard to higher rights, and without distinction of merit or

priority. The bastard dog follows indifferently all who call it; the

suckling child regards every man as its father and every woman as its

nurse; every living creature, when deprived of the society of animals

of its species, seeks companionship in its solitude. This fundamental

characteristic of the social instinct renders intolerable and even

hateful the friendship of frivolous persons, liable to be infatuated

with every new face, accommodating to all whether good or bad, and

ready to sacrifice, for a passing liaison, the oldest and most honorable

affections. The fault of such beings is not in the heart--it is in the

judgment. Sociability, in this degree, is a sort of magnetism awakened

in us by the contemplation of a being similar to ourselves, but which

never goes beyond the person who feels it; it may be reciprocated, but

not communicated. Love, benevolence, pity, sympathy, call it what you

will, there is nothing in it which deserves esteem,--nothing which lifts

man above the beast.

The second degree of sociability is justice, which may be defined as the

RECOGNITION OF THE EQUALITY BETWEEN ANOTHER'S PERSONALITY AND OUR OWN.

The sentiment of justice we share with the animals; we alone can form

an exact idea of it; but our idea, as has been said already, does not

change its nature. We shall soon see how man rises to a third degree

of sociability which the animals are incapable of reaching. But I must

first prove by metaphysics that SOCIETY, JUSTICE, and EQUALITY,

are three equivalent terms,--three expressions meaning the same

thing,--whose mutual conversion is always allowable.

If, amid the confusion of a shipwreck, having escaped in a boat with

some provisions, I see a man struggling with the waves, am I bound to

go to his assistance? Yes, I am bound under penalty of being adjudged

guilty of murder and treason against society.

But am I also bound to share with him my provisions?

To settle this question, we must change the phraseology. If society is

binding on the boat, is it also binding on the provisions? Undoubtedly.

The duty of an associate is absolute. Man's occupancy succeeds his

social nature, and is subordinate to it; possession can become exclusive

only when permission to occupy is granted to all alike. That which

in this instance obscures our duty is our power of foresight, which,

causing us to fear an eventual danger, impels us to usurpation, and

makes us robbers and murderers. Animals do not calculate the duty of

instinct any more than the disadvantages resulting to those who exercise

it; it would be strange if the intellect of man--the most sociable of

animals--should lead him to disobey the law.

He betrays society who attempts to use it only for his own advantage;

better that God should deprive us of prudence, if it is to serve as the

tool of our selfishness.

"What!" you will say, "must I share my bread, the bread which I have

earned and which belongs to me, with the stranger whom I do not know;

whom I may never see again, and who, perhaps, will reward me with

ingratitude? If we had earned this bread together, if this man had

done something to obtain it, he might demand his share, since his

co-operation would entitle him to it; but as it is, what claim has he on

me? We have not produced together--we shall not eat together."

The fallacy in this argument lies in the false supposition, that each

producer is not necessarily associated with every other producer.

When two or more individuals have regularly organized a society,--when

the contracts have been agreed upon, drafted, and signed,--there is

no difficulty about the future. Everybody knows that when two men

associate--for instance--in order to fish, if one of them catches no

fish, he is none the less entitled to those caught by his associate.

If two merchants form a partnership, while the partnership lasts, the

profits and losses are divided between them; since each produces, not

for himself, but for the society: when the time of distribution arrives,

it is not the producer who is considered, but the associate. That is why

the slave, to whom the planter gives straw and rice; and the civilized

laborer, to whom the capitalist pays a salary which is always too

small,--not being associated with their employers, although producing

with them,--are disregarded when the product is divided. Thus, the horse

who draws our coaches, and the ox who draws our carts produce with us,

but are not associated with us; we take their product, but do not share

it with them. The animals and laborers whom we employ hold the same

relation to us. Whatever we do for them, we do, not from a sense of

justice, but out of pure benevolence. [22]

But is it possible that we are not all associated? Let us call to mind

what was said in the last two chapters, That even though we do not want

to be associated, the force of things, the necessity of consumption, the

laws of production, and the mathematical principle of exchange combine

to associate us. There is but a single exception to this rule,--that

of the proprietor, who, producing by his right of increase, is not

associated with any one, and consequently is not obliged to share his

product with any one; just as no one else is bound to share with him.

With the exception of the proprietor, we labor for each other; we can

do nothing by ourselves unaided by others, and we continually exchange

products and services with each other. If these are not social acts,

what are they?

Now, neither a commercial, nor an industrial, nor an agricultural

association can be conceived of in the absence of equality; equality

is its sine qua non. So that, in all matters which concern this

association, to violate society is to violate justice and equality.

Apply this principle to humanity at large.

After what has been said, I assume that the reader has sufficient

insight to enable him to dispense with any aid of mine.

By this principle, the man who takes possession of a field, and says,

"This field is mine," will not be unjust so long as every one else has

an equal right of possession; nor will he be unjust, if, wishing to

change his location, he exchanges this field for an equivalent. But

if, putting another in his place, he says to him, "Work for me while

I rest," he then becomes unjust, unassociated, UNEQUAL. He is a

proprietor.

Reciprocally, the sluggard, or the rake, who, without performing

any social task, enjoys like others--and often more than others--the

products of society, should be proceeded against as a thief and a

parasite. We owe it to ourselves to give him nothing; but, since he must

live, to put him under supervision, and compel him to labor.

Sociability is the attraction felt by sentient beings for each other.

Justice is this same attraction, accompanied by thought and knowledge.

But under what general concept, in what category of the understanding,

is justice placed? In the category of equal quantities. Hence, the

ancient definition of justice--_Justum aequale est, injustum inaequale_.

What is it, then, to practise justice? It is to give equal wealth

to each, on condition of equal labor. It is to act socially. Our

selfishness may complain; there is no escape from evidence and

necessity.

What is the right of occupancy? It is a natural method of dividing the

earth, by reducing each laborer's share as fast as new laborers present

themselves. This right disappears if the public interest requires it;

which, being the social interest, is also that of the occupant.

What is the right of labor? It is the right to obtain one's share

of wealth by fulfilling the required conditions. It is the right of

society, the right of equality.

Justice, which is the product of the combination of an idea and an

instinct, manifests itself in man as soon as he is capable of feeling,

and of forming ideas. Consequently, it has been regarded as an

innate and original sentiment; but this opinion is logically and

chronologically false. But justice, by its composition hybrid--if I may

use the term,--justice, born of emotion and intellect combined, seems to

me one of the strongest proofs of the unity and simplicity of the

ego; the organism being no more capable of producing such a mixture by

itself, than are the combined senses of hearing and sight of forming a

binary sense, half auditory and half visual.

This double nature of justice gives us the definitive basis of all the

demonstrations in Chapters II., III., and IV. On the one hand, the idea

of JUSTICE being identical with that of society, and society necessarily

implying equality, equality must underlie all the sophisms invented in

defence of property; for, since property can be defended only as a just

and social institution, and property being inequality, in order to

prove that property is in harmony with society, it must be shown that

injustice is justice, and that inequality is equality,--a contradiction

in terms. On the other hand, since the idea of equality--the second

element of justice--has its source in the mathematical proportions of

things; and since property, or the unequal distribution of wealth among

laborers, destroys the necessary balance between labor, production, and

consumption,--property must be impossible.

All men, then, are associated; all are entitled to the same justice; all

are equal. Does it follow that the preferences of love and friendship

are unjust?

This requires explanation. I have already supposed the case of a man in

peril, I being in a position to help him. Now, I suppose myself appealed

to at the same time by two men exposed to danger.

Am I not allowed--am I not commanded even--to rush first to the aid of

him who is endeared to me by ties of blood, friendship, acquaintance,

or esteem, at the risk of leaving the other to perish? Yes. And why?

Because within universal society there exist for each of us as many

special societies as there are individuals; and we are bound, by the

principle of sociability itself, to fulfil the obligations which these

impose upon us, according to the intimacy of our relations with them.

Therefore we must give our father, mother, children, friends, relatives,

&c., the preference over all others. But in what consists this

preference?

A judge has a case to decide, in which one of the parties is his

friend, and the other his enemy. Should he, in this instance, prefer

his INTIMATE ASSOCIATE to his DISTANT ASSOCIATE; and decide the case in

favor of his friend, in spite of evidence to the contrary? No: for, if

he should favor his friend's injustice, he would become his accomplice

in his violation of the social compact; he would form with him a sort of

conspiracy against the social body. Preference should be shown only in

personal matters, such as love, esteem, confidence, or intimacy, when

all cannot be considered at once. Thus, in case of fire, a father

would save his own child before thinking of his neighbor's; but the

recognition of a right not being an optional matter with a judge, he is

not at liberty to favor one person to the detriment of another.

The theory of these special societies--which are formed concentrically,

so to speak, by each of us inside of the main body--gives the key to

all the problems which arise from the opposition and conflict of the

different varieties of social duty,--problems upon which the ancient

tragedies are based.

The justice practised among animals is, in a certain degree, negative.

With the exception of protecting their young, hunting and plundering

in troops, uniting for common defence and sometimes for individual

assistance, it consists more in prevention than in action. A sick animal

who cannot arise from the ground, or an imprudent one who has fallen

over a precipice, receives neither medicine nor nourishment. If he

cannot cure himself, nor relieve himself of his trouble, his life is in

danger: he will neither be cared for in bed, nor fed in a prison.

Their neglect of their fellows arises as much from the weakness of

their intellect as from their lack of resources. Still, the degrees

of intimacy common among men are not unknown to the animals. They

have friendships of habit and of choice; friendships neighborly, and

friendships parental. In comparison with us, they have feeble memories,

sluggish feelings, and are almost destitute of intelligence; but

the identity of these faculties is preserved to some extent, and our

superiority in this respect arises entirely from our understanding.

It is our strength of memory and penetration of judgment which enable us

to multiply and combine the acts which our social instinct impels us to

perform, and which teaches us how to render them more effective, and

how to distribute them justly. The beasts who live in society practise

justice, but are ignorant of its nature, and do not reason upon it; they

obey their instinct without thought or philosophy. They know not how to

unite the social sentiment with the idea of equality, which they do not

possess; this idea being an abstract one. We, on the contrary, starting

with the principle that society implies equality, can, by our reasoning

faculty, understand and agree with each other in settling our rights;

we have even used our judgment to a great extent. But in all this our

conscience plays a small part, as is proved by the fact that the idea

of RIGHT--of which we catch a glimpse in certain animals who approach

nearer than any others to our standard of intelligence--seems to grow,

from the low level at which it stands in savages, to the lofty height

which it reaches in a Plato or a Franklin. If we trace the development

of the moral sense in individuals, and the progress of laws in nations,

we shall be convinced that the ideas of justice and legislative

perfection are always proportional to intelligence. The notion of

justice--which has been regarded by some philosophers as simple--is

then, in reality, complex. It springs from the social instinct on the

one hand, and the idea of equality on the other; just as the notion of

guilt arises from the feeling that justice has been violated, and from

the idea of free-will.

In conclusion, instinct is not modified by acquaintance with its nature;

and the facts of society, which we have thus far observed, occur among

beasts as well as men. We know the meaning of justice; in other words,

of sociability viewed from the standpoint of equality. We have met with

nothing which separates us from the animals.

% 3.--Of the third degree of Sociability.

The reader, perhaps, has not forgotten what was said in the third

chapter concerning the division of labor and the speciality of talents.

The sum total of the talents and capacities of the race is always

the same, and their nature is always similar. We are all born poets,

mathematicians, philosophers, artists, artisans, or farmers, but we are

not born equally endowed; and between one man and another in society,

or between one faculty and another in the same individual, there is an

infinite difference. This difference of degree in the same faculties,

this predominance of talent in certain directions, is, we have said,

the very foundation of our society. Intelligence and natural genius have

been distributed by Nature so economically, and yet so liberally, that

in society there is no danger of either a surplus or a scarcity of

special talents; and that each laborer, by devoting himself to his

function, may always attain to the degree of proficiency necessary to

enable him to benefit by the labors and discoveries of his fellows.

Owing to this simple and wise precaution of Nature, the laborer is not

isolated by his task. He communicates with his fellows through the mind,

before he is united with them in heart; so that with him love is born of

intelligence.

It is not so with societies of animals. In every species, the aptitudes

of all the individuals--though very limited--are equal in number and

(when they are not the result of instinct) in intensity. Each one does

as well as all the others what all the others do; provides his food,

avoids the enemy, burrows in the earth, builds a nest, &c. No animal,

when free and healthy, expects or requires the aid of his neighbor; who,

in his turn, is equally independent.

Associated animals live side by side without any intellectual

intercourse or intimate communication,--all doing the same things,

having nothing to learn or to remember; they see, feel, and come in

contact with each other, but never penetrate each other. Man continually

exchanges with man ideas and feelings, products and services. Every

discovery and act in society is necessary to him. But of this immense

quantity of products and ideas, that which each one has to produce and

acquire for himself is but an atom in the sun. Man would not be man were

it not for society, and society is supported by the balance and harmony

of the powers which compose it.

Society, among the animals, is SIMPLE; with man it is COMPLEX. Man is

associated with man by the same instinct which associates animal with

animal; but man is associated differently from the animal, and it is

this difference in association which constitutes the difference in

morality.

I have proved,--at too great length, perhaps,--both by the spirit of

the laws which regard property as the basis of society, and by political

economy, that inequality of conditions is justified neither by priority

of occupation nor superiority of talent, service, industry, and

capacity. But, although equality of conditions is a necessary

consequence of natural right, of liberty, of the laws of production,

of the capacity of physical nature, and of the principle of society

itself,--it does not prevent the social sentiment from stepping over the

boundaries of DEBT and CREDIT. The fields of benevolence and love extend

far beyond; and when economy has adjusted its balance, the mind

begins to benefit by its own justice, and the heart expands in the

boundlessness of its affection.

The social sentiment then takes on a new character, which varies with

different persons. In the strong, it becomes the pleasure of generosity;

among equals, frank and cordial friendship; in the weak, the pleasure of

admiration and gratitude.

The man who is superior in strength, skill, or courage, knows that he

owes all that he is to society, without which he could not exist. He

knows that, in treating him precisely as it does the lowest of its

members, society discharges its whole duty towards him. But he does

not underrate his faculties; he is no less conscious of his power and

greatness; and it is this voluntary reverence which he pays to humanity,

this avowal that he is but an instrument of Nature,--who is alone worthy

of glory and worship,--it is, I say, this simultaneous confession of

the heart and the mind, this genuine adoration of the Great Being, that

distinguishes and elevates man, and lifts him to a degree of social

morality to which the beast is powerless to attain. Hercules destroying

the monsters and punishing brigands for the safety of Greece, Orpheus

teaching the rough and wild Pelasgians,--neither of them putting a price

upon their services,--there we see the noblest creations of poetry, the

loftiest expression of justice and virtue.

The joys of self-sacrifice are ineffable.

If I were to compare human society to the old Greek tragedies, I should

say that the phalanx of noble minds and lofty souls dances the strophe,

and the humble multitude the antistrophe. Burdened with painful and

disagreeable tasks, but rendered omnipotent by their number and the

harmonic arrangement of their functions, the latter execute what the

others plan. Guided by them, they owe them nothing; they honor them,

however, and lavish upon them praise and approbation.

Gratitude fills people with adoration and enthusiasm.

But equality delights my heart. Benevolence degenerates into tyranny,

and admiration into servility. Friendship is the daughter of equality.

O my friends! may I live in your midst without emulation, and without

glory; let equality bring us together, and fate assign us our places.

May I die without knowing to whom among you I owe the most esteem!

Friendship is precious to the hearts of the children of men.

Generosity, gratitude (I mean here only that gratitude which is born

of admiration of a superior power), and friendship are three distinct

shades of a single sentiment which I will call equite, or SOCIAL

PROPORTIONALITY. [23] Equite does not change justice: but, always taking

equite for the base, it superadds esteem, and thereby forms in man a

third degree of sociability. Equite makes it at once our duty and our

pleasure to aid the weak who have need of us, and to make them our

equals; to pay to the strong a just tribute of gratitude and honor,

without enslaving ourselves to them; to cherish our neighbors, friends,

and equals, for that which we receive from them, even by right of

exchange. Equite is sociability raised to its ideal by reason and

justice; its commonest manifestation is URBANITY or POLITENESS, which,

among certain nations, sums up in a single word nearly all the social

duties.

It is the just distribution of social sympathy and universal love.

Now, this feeling is unknown among the beasts, who love and cling to

each other, and show their preferences, but who cannot conceive of

esteem, and who are incapable of generosity, admiration, or politeness.

This feeling does not spring from intelligence, which calculates,

computes, and balances, but does not love; which sees, but does not

feel. As justice is the product of social instinct and reflection

combined, so equite is a product of justice and taste combined--that is,

of our powers of judging and of idealizing.

This product--the third and last degree of human sociability--is

determined by our complex mode of association; in which inequality,

or rather the divergence of faculties, and the speciality of

functions--tending of themselves to isolate laborers--demand a more

active sociability.

That is why the force which oppresses while protecting is execrable; why

the silly ignorance which views with the same eye the marvels of art,

and the products of the rudest industry, excites unutterable contempt;

why proud mediocrity, which glories in saying, "I have paid you--I owe

you nothing," is especially odious.

SOCIABILITY, JUSTICE, EQUITE--such, in its triplicity, is the exact

definition of the instinctive faculty which leads us into communication

with our fellows, and whose physical manifestation is expressed by the

formula: EQUALITY IN NATURAL WEALTH, AND THE PRODUCTS OF LABOR.

These three degrees of sociability support and imply each other.

Equite cannot exist without justice; society without justice is a

solecism. If, in order to reward talent, I take from one to give to

another, in unjustly stripping the first, I do not esteem his talent as

I ought; if, in society, I award more to myself than to my associate, we

are not really associated. Justice is sociability as manifested in the

division of material things, susceptible of weight and measure; equite

is justice accompanied by admiration and esteem,--things which cannot be

measured.

From this several inferences may be drawn.

1. Though we are free to grant our esteem to one more than to another,

and in all possible degrees, yet we should give no one more than his

proportion of the common wealth; because the duty of justice, being

imposed upon us before that of equite, must always take precedence of

it. The woman honored by the ancients, who, when forced by a tyrant

to choose between the death of her brother and that of her husband,

sacrificed the latter on the ground that she could find another husband

but not another brother,--that woman, I say, in obeying her sense of

equite, failed in point of justice, and did a bad deed, because conjugal

association is a closer relation than fraternal association, and because

the life of our neighbor is not our property.

By the same principle, inequality of wages cannot be admitted by law on

the ground of inequality of talents; because the just distribution of

wealth is the function of economy,--not of enthusiasm.

Finally, as regards donations, wills, and inheritance, society, careful

both of the personal affections and its own rights, must never permit

love and partiality to destroy justice. And, though it is pleasant to

think that the son, who has been long associated with his father in

business, is more capable than any one else of carrying it on; and that

the citizen, who is surprised in the midst of his task by death, is

best fitted, in consequence of his natural taste for his occupation, to

designate his successor; and though the heir should be allowed the right

of choice in case of more than one inheritance,--nevertheless, society

can tolerate no concentration of capital and industry for the benefit of

a single man, no monopoly of labor, no encroachment. [24]

"Suppose that some spoils, taken from the enemy, and equal to twelve,

are to be divided between Achilles and Ajax. If the two persons were

equal, their respective shares would be arithmetically equal: Achilles

would have six, Ajax six. And if we should carry out this arithmetical

equality, Thersites would be entitled to as much as Achilles, which

would be unjust in the extreme. To avoid this injustice, the worth of

the persons should be estimated, and the spoils divided accordingly.

Suppose that the worth of Achilles is double that of Ajax: the former's

share is eight, the latter four. There is no arithmetical equality, but

a proportional equality. It is this comparison of merits, rationum,

that Aristotle calls distributive justice. It is a geometrical

proportion."--Toullier: French Law according to the Code.

Are Achilles and Ajax associated, or are they not? Settle that, and

you settle the whole question. If Achilles and Ajax, instead of being

associated, are themselves in the service of Agamemnon who pays them,

there is no objection to Aristotle's method. The slave-owner, who

controls his slaves, may give a double allowance of brandy to him who

does double work. That is the law of despotism; the right of slavery.

But if Achilles and Ajax are associated, they are equals. What matters

it that Achilles has a strength of four, while that of Ajax is only two?

The latter may always answer that he is free; that if Achilles has a

strength of four, five could kill him; finally, that in doing personal

service he incurs as great a risk as Achilles. The same argument applies

to Thersites. If he is unable to fight, let him be cook, purveyor, or

butler. If he is good for nothing, put him in the hospital. In no case

wrong him, or impose upon him laws.

Man must live in one of two states: either in society, or out of it.

In society, conditions are necessarily equal, except in the degree of

esteem and consideration which each one may receive. Out of society, man

is so much raw material, a capitalized tool, and often an incommodious

and useless piece of furniture.

2. Equite, justice, and society, can exist only between individuals of

the same species. They form no part of the relations of different races

to each other,--for instance, of the wolf to the goat, of the goat to

man, of man to God, much less of God to man. The attribution of justice,

equity, and love to the Supreme Being is pure anthropomorphism; and the

adjectives just, merciful, pitiful, and the like, should be stricken

from our litanies. God can be regarded as just, equitable, and good,

only to another God. Now, God has no associate; consequently, he cannot

experience social affections,--such as goodness, equite, and justice.

Is the shepherd said to be just to his sheep and his dogs? No: and if he

saw fit to shear as much wool from a lamb six months old, as from a ram

of two years; or, if he required as much work from a young dog as from

an old one,--they would say, not that he was unjust, but that he was

foolish. Between man and beast there is no society, though there may be

affection. Man loves the animals as THINGS,--as SENTIENT THINGS, if you

will,--but not as PERSONS. Philosophy, after having eliminated from the

idea of God the passions ascribed to him by superstition, will then be

obliged to eliminate also the virtues which our liberal piety awards to

him. [25]

The rights of woman and her relations with man are yet to be determined

Matrimonial legislation, like civil legislation, is a matter for the

future to settle.

If God should come down to earth, and dwell among us, we could not love

him unless he became like us; nor give him any thing unless he produced

something; nor listen to him unless he proved us mistaken; nor worship

him unless he manifested his power. All the laws of our nature,

affectional, economical, and intellectual, would prevent us from

treating him as we treat our fellow-men,--that is, according to reason,

justice, and equite.

I infer from this that, if God should wish ever to put himself into

immediate communication with man, he would have to become a man.

Now, if kings are images of God, and executors of his will, they cannot

receive love, wealth, obedience, and glory from us, unless they consent

to labor and associate with us--produce as much as they consume, reason

with their subjects, and do wonderful things. Still more; if, as some

pretend, kings are public functionaries, the love which is due them is

measured by their personal amiability; our obligation to obey them, by

the wisdom of their commands; and their civil list, by the total social

production divided by the number of citizens.

Thus, jurisprudence, political economy, and psychology agree in

admitting the law of equality. Right and duty--the due reward of talent

and labor--the outbursts of love and enthusiasm,--all are regulated in

advance by an invariable standard; all depend upon number and balance.

Equality of conditions is the law of society, and universal solidarity

is the ratification of this law.

Equality of conditions has never been realized, thanks to our passions

and our ignorance; but our opposition to this law has made it all the

more a necessity. To that fact history bears perpetual testimony, and

the course of events reveals it to us. Society advances from equation to

equation. To the eyes of the economist, the revolutions of empires

seem now like the reduction of algebraical quantities, which are

inter-deducible; now like the discovery of unknown quantities, induced

by the inevitable influence of time. Figures are the providence of

history. Undoubtedly there are other elements in human progress; but in

the multitude of hidden causes which agitate nations, there is none more

powerful or constant, none less obscure, than the periodical explosions

of the proletariat against property. Property, acting by exclusion

and encroachment, while population was increasing, has been the

life-principle and definitive cause of all revolutions. Religious wars,

and wars of conquest, when they have stopped short of the extermination

of races, have been only accidental disturbances, soon repaired by the

mathematical progression of the life of nations. The downfall and death

of societies are due to the power of accumulation possessed by property.

In the middle ages, take Florence,--a republic of merchants and brokers,

always rent by its well-known factions, the Guelphs and Ghibellines, who

were, after all, only the people and the proprietors fighting against

each other,--Florence, ruled by bankers, and borne down at last by the

weight of her debts; [26] in ancient times, take Rome, preyed upon from

its birth by usury, flourishing, nevertheless, as long as the known

world furnished its terrible proletaires with LABOR stained with blood

by civil war at every interval of rest, and dying of exhaustion when

the people lost, together with their former energy, their last spark

of moral sense; Carthage, a commercial and financial city, continually

divided by internal competition; Tyre, Sidon, Jerusalem, Nineveh,

Babylon, ruined, in turn, by commercial rivalry and, as we now express

it, by panics in the market,--do not these famous examples show clearly

enough the fate which awaits modern nations, unless the people,

unless France, with a sudden burst of her powerful voice, proclaims in

thunder-tones the abolition of the regime of property?

Here my task should end. I have proved the right of the poor; I have

shown the usurpation of the rich. I demand justice; it is not my

business to execute the sentence. If it should be argued--in order to

prolong for a few years an illegitimate privilege--that it is not enough

to demonstrate equality, that it is necessary also to organize it, and

above all to establish it peacefully, I might reply: The welfare of the

oppressed is of more importance than official composure. Equality of

conditions is a natural law upon which public economy and jurisprudence

are based. The right to labor, and the principle of equal distribution

of wealth, cannot give way to the anxieties of power. It is not for the

proletaire to reconcile the contradictions of the codes, still less to

suffer for the errors of the government. On the contrary, it is the duty

of the civil and administrative power to reconstruct itself on the basis

of political equality. An evil, when known, should be condemned and

destroyed. The legislator cannot plead ignorance as an excuse for

upholding a glaring iniquity. Restitution should not be delayed.

Justice, justice! recognition of right! reinstatement of the

proletaire!--when these results are accomplished, then, judges and

consuls, you may attend to your police, and provide a government for the

Republic!

For the rest, I do not think that a single one of my readers accuses

me of knowing how to destroy, but of not knowing how to construct. In

demonstrating the principle of equality, I have laid the foundation of

the social structure I have done more. I have given an example of

the true method of solving political and legislative problems. Of the

science itself, I confess that I know nothing more than its principle;

and I know of no one at present who can boast of having penetrated

deeper. Many people cry, "Come to me, and I will teach you the truth!"

These people mistake for the truth their cherished opinion and ardent

conviction, which is usually any thing but the truth. The science of

society--like all human sciences--will be for ever incomplete. The depth

and variety of the questions which it embraces are infinite. We hardly

know the A B C of this science, as is proved by the fact that we have

not yet emerged from the period of systems, and have not ceased to

put the authority of the majority in the place of facts. A certain

philological society decided linguistic questions by a plurality

of votes. Our parliamentary debates--were their results less

pernicious--would be even more ridiculous. The task of the true

publicist, in the age in which we live, is to close the mouths of

quacks and charlatans, and to teach the public to demand demonstrations,

instead of being contented with symbols and programmes. Before talking

of the science itself, it is necessary to ascertain its object, and

discover its method and principle. The ground must be cleared of the

prejudices which encumber it. Such is the mission of the nineteenth

century.

For my part, I have sworn fidelity to my work of demolition, and I will

not cease to pursue the truth through the ruins and rubbish. I hate to

see a thing half done; and it will be believed without any assurance of

mine, that, having dared to raise my hand against the Holy Ark, I shall

not rest contented with the removal of the cover. The mysteries of the

sanctuary of iniquity must be unveiled, the tables of the old alliance

broken, and all the objects of the ancient faith thrown in a heap to the

swine. A charter has been given to us,--a resume of political science,

the monument of twenty legislatures. A code has been written,--the pride

of a conqueror, and the summary of ancient wisdom. Well! of this charter

and this code not one article shall be left standing upon another!

The time has come for the wise to choose their course, and prepare for

reconstruction.

But, since a destroyed error necessarily implies a counter-truth, I will

not finish this treatise without solving the first problem of political

science,--that which receives the attention of all minds.

WHEN PROPERTY IS ABOLISHED, WHAT WILL BE THE FORM OF SOCIETY! WILL IT BE

COMMUNISM?

PART SECOND.

% 1.--Of the Causes of our Mistakes. The Origin of Property.

The true form of human society cannot be determined until the following

question has been solved:--

Property not being our natural condition, how did it gain a foothold?

Why has the social instinct, so trustworthy among the animals, erred

in the case of man? Why is man, who was born for society, not yet

associated?

I have said that human society is COMPLEX in its nature. Though this

expression is inaccurate, the fact to which it refers is none the less

true; namely, the classification of talents and capacities. But who

does not see that these talents and capacities, owing to their infinite

variety, give rise to an infinite variety of wills, and that the

character, the inclinations, and--if I may venture to use the

expression--the form of the ego, are necessarily changed; so that in

the order of liberty, as in the order of intelligence, there are as

many types as individuals, as many characters as heads, whose tastes,

fancies, and propensities, being modified by dissimilar ideas,

must necessarily conflict? Man, by his nature and his instinct, is

predestined to society; but his personality, ever varying, is adverse to

it.

In societies of animals, all the members do exactly the same things.

The same genius directs them; the same will animates them. A society of

beasts is a collection of atoms, round, hooked, cubical, or triangular,

but always perfectly identical. These personalities do not vary, and we

might say that a single ego governs them all. The labors which animals

perform, whether alone or in society, are exact reproductions of their

character. Just as the swarm of bees is composed of individual bees,

alike in nature and equal in value, so the honeycomb is formed of

individual cells, constantly and invariably repeated.

But man's intelligence, fitted for his social destiny and his personal

needs, is of a very different composition, and therefore gives rise to

a wonderful variety of human wills. In the bee, the will is constant

and uniform, because the instinct which guides it is invariable, and

constitutes the animal's whole life and nature. In man, talent varies,

and the mind wavers; consequently, his will is multiform and vague. He

seeks society, but dislikes constraint and monotony; he is an imitator,

but fond of his own ideas, and passionately in love with his works.

If, like the bees, every man were born possessed of talent, perfect

knowledge of certain kinds, and, in a word, an innate acquaintance

with the functions he has to perform, but destitute of reflective and

reasoning faculties, society would organize itself. We should see one

man plowing a field, another building houses; this one forging metals,

that one cutting clothes; and still others storing the products, and

superintending their distribution. Each one, without inquiring as to the

object of his labor, and without troubling himself about the extent of

his task, would obey orders, bring his product, receive his salary, and

would then rest for a time; keeping meanwhile no accounts, envious of

nobody, and satisfied with the distributor, who never would be unjust to

any one. Kings would govern, but would not reign; for to reign is to be

a _proprietor a l'engrais_, as Bonaparte said: and having no commands

to give, since all would be at their posts, they would serve rather as

rallying centres than as authorities or counsellors. It would be a state

of ordered communism, but not a society entered into deliberately and

freely.

But man acquires skill only by observation and experiment. He reflects,

then, since to observe and experiment is to reflect; he reasons,

since he cannot help reasoning. In reflecting, he becomes deluded; in

reasoning, he makes mistakes, and, thinking himself right, persists in

them. He is wedded to his opinions; he esteems himself, and despises

others. Consequently, he isolates himself; for he could not submit

to the majority without renouncing his will and his reason,--that is,

without disowning himself, which is impossible. And this isolation, this

intellectual egotism, this individuality of opinion, lasts until the

truth is demonstrated to him by observation and experience. A final

illustration will make these facts still clearer.

If to the blind but convergent and harmonious instincts of a swarm

of bees should be suddenly added reflection and judgment, the little

society could not long exist. In the first place, the bees would not

fail to try some new industrial process; for instance, that of making

their cells round or square. All sorts of systems and inventions would

be tried, until long experience, aided by geometry, should show them

that the hexagonal shape is the best. Then insurrections would occur.

The drones would be told to provide for themselves, and the queens to

labor; jealousy would spread among the laborers; discords would burst

forth; soon each one would want to produce on his own account; and

finally the hive would be abandoned, and the bees would perish. Evil

would be introduced into the honey-producing republic by the power of

reflection,--the very faculty which ought to constitute its glory.

Thus, moral evil, or, in this case, disorder in society, is naturally

explained by our power of reflection. The mother of poverty, crime,

insurrection, and war was inequality of conditions; which was the

daughter of property, which was born of selfishness, which was

engendered by private opinion, which descended in a direct line from

the autocracy of reason. Man, in his infancy, is neither criminal

nor barbarous, but ignorant and inexperienced. Endowed with imperious

instincts which are under the control of his reasoning faculty, at first

he reflects but little, and reasons inaccurately; then, benefiting by

his mistakes, he rectifies his ideas, and perfects his reason. In the

first place, it is the savage sacrificing all his possessions for

a trinket, and then repenting and weeping; it is Esau selling his

birthright for a mess of pottage, and afterwards wishing to cancel

the bargain; it is the civilized workman laboring in insecurity, and

continually demanding that his wages be increased, neither he nor his

employer understanding that, in the absence of equality, any salary,

however large, is always insufficient. Then it is Naboth dying to defend

his inheritance; Cato tearing out his entrails that he might not be

enslaved; Socrates drinking the fatal cup in defence of liberty of

thought; it is the third estate of '89 reclaiming its liberty: soon it

will be the people demanding equality of wages and an equal division of

the means of production.

Man is born a social being,--that is, he seeks equality and justice in

all his relations, but he loves independence and praise. The difficulty

of satisfying these various desires at the same time is the primary

cause of the despotism of the will, and the appropriation which results

from it. On the other hand, man always needs a market for his products;

unable to compare values of different kinds, he is satisfied to judge

approximately, according to his passion and caprice; and he engages in

dishonest commerce, which always results in wealth and poverty. Thus,

the greatest evils which man suffers arise from the misuse of his social

nature, of this same justice of which he is so proud, and which he

applies with such deplorable ignorance.

The practice of justice is a science which, when once discovered

and diffused, will sooner or later put an end to social disorder, by

teaching us our rights and duties.

This progressive and painful education of our instinct, this slow

and imperceptible transformation of our spontaneous perceptions into

deliberate knowledge, does not take place among the animals, whose

instincts remain fixed, and never become enlightened.

"According to Frederic Cuvier, who has so clearly distinguished between

instinct and intelligence in animals, 'instinct is a natural and

inherent faculty, like feeling, irritability, or intelligence. The wolf

and the fox who recognize the traps in which they have been caught, and

who avoid them; the dog and the horse, who understand the meaning of

several of our words, and who obey us,--thereby show _intelligence_.

The dog who hides the remains of his dinner, the bee who constructs his

cell, the bird who builds his nest, act only from _instinct_. Even man

has instincts: it is a special instinct which leads the new-born

child to suck. But, in man, almost every thing is accomplished by

intelligence; and intelligence supplements instinct. The opposite is

true of animals: their instinct is given them as a supplement to their

intelligence.'"--Flourens: Analytical Summary of the Observations of F.

Cuvier.

"We can form a clear idea of instinct only by admitting that animals

have in their _sensorium_, images or innate and constant sensations,

which influence their actions in the same manner that ordinary and

accidental sensations commonly do. It is a sort of dream, or vision,

which always follows them and in all which relates to instinct they may

be regarded as somnambulists."--F. Cuvier: Introduction to the Animal

Kingdom.

Intelligence and instinct being common, then, though in different

degrees, to animals and man, what is the distinguishing characteristic

of the latter? According to F. Cuvier, it is REFLECTION OR THE POWER

OF INTELLECTUALLY CONSIDERING OUR OWN MODIFICATIONS BY A SURVEY OF

OURSELVES. This lacks clearness, and requires an explanation.

If we grant intelligence to animals, we must also grant them, in some

degree, reflection; for, the first cannot exist without the second, as

F. Cuvier himself has proved by numerous examples. But notice that the

learned observer defines the kind of reflection which distinguishes us

from the animals as the POWER OF CONSIDERING OUR OWN MODIFICATIONS. This

I shall endeavour to interpret, by developing to the best of my ability

the laconism of the philosophical naturalist.

The intelligence acquired by animals never modifies the operations which

they perform by instinct: it is given them only as a provision against

unexpected accidents which might disturb these operations. In man, on

the contrary, instinctive action is constantly changing into deliberate

action. Thus, man is social by instinct, and is every day becoming

social by reflection and choice. At first, he formed his words by

instinct;[1] he was a poet by inspiration: to-day, he makes grammar a

science, and poetry an art. His conception of God and a future life is

spontaneous and instinctive, and his expressions of this conception

have been, by turns, monstrous, eccentric, beautiful, comforting, and

terrible. All these different creeds, at which the frivolous irreligion

of the eighteenth century mocked, are modes of expression of the

religious sentiment. Some day, man will explain to himself the character

of the God whom he believes in, and the nature of that other world to

which his soul aspires.

[1] "The problem of the origin of language is solved by the distinction

made by Frederic Cuvier between instinct and intelligence. Language

is not a premeditated, arbitrary, or conventional device; nor is it

communicated or revealed to us by God. Language is an instinctive and

unpremeditated creation of man, as the hive is of the bee. In this

sense, it may be said that language is not the work of man, since it is

not the work of his mind. Further, the mechanism of language seems

more wonderful and ingenious when it is not regarded as the result of

reflection. This fact is one of the most curious and indisputable which

philology has observed. See, among other works, a Latin essay by F. G.

Bergmann (Strasbourg, 1839), in which the learned author explains how

the phonetic germ is born of sensation; how language passes through

three successive stages of development; why man, endowed at birth with

the instinctive faculty of creating a language, loses this faculty

as fast as his mind develops; and that the study of languages is real

natural history,--in fact, a science. France possesses to-day several

philologists of the first rank, endowed with rare talents and deep

philosophic insight,--modest savants developing a science almost without

the knowledge of the public; devoting themselves to studies which are

scornfully looked down upon, and seeming to shun applause as much as

others seek it."

All that he does from instinct man despises; or, if he admires it, it

is as Nature's work, not as his own. This explains the obscurity

which surrounds the names of early inventors; it explains also our

indifference to religious matters, and the ridicule heaped upon

religious customs. Man esteems only the products of reflection and of

reason. The most wonderful works of instinct are, in his eyes, only

lucky GOD-SENDS; he reserves the name DISCOVERY--I had almost said

creation--for the works of intelligence. Instinct is the source of

passion and enthusiasm; it is intelligence which causes crime and

virtue.

In developing his intelligence, man makes use of not only his own

observations, but also those of others. He keeps an account of his

experience, and preserves the record; so that the race, as well as

the individual, becomes more and more intelligent. The animals do not

transmit their knowledge; that which each individual accumulates dies

with him.

It is not enough, then, to say that we are distinguished from the

animals by reflection, unless we mean thereby the CONSTANT TENDENCY OF

OUR INSTINCT TO BECOME INTELLIGENCE. While man is governed by instinct,

he is unconscious of his acts. He never would deceive himself, and never

would be troubled by errors, evils, and disorder, if, like the animals,

instinct were his only guide. But the Creator has endowed us with

reflection, to the end that our instinct might become intelligence;

and since this reflection and resulting knowledge pass through various

stages, it happens that in the beginning our instinct is opposed, rather

than guided, by reflection; consequently, that our power of thought

leads us to act in opposition to our nature and our end; that, deceiving

ourselves, we do and suffer evil, until instinct which points us towards

good, and reflection which makes us stumble into evil, are replaced by

the science of good and evil, which invariably causes us to seek the one

and avoid the other.

Thus, evil--or error and its consequences--is the firstborn son of

the union of two opposing faculties, instinct and reflection; good,

or truth, must inevitably be the second child. Or, to again employ the

figure, evil is the product of incest between adverse powers; good will

sooner or later be the legitimate child of their holy and mysterious

union.

Property, born of the reasoning faculty, intrenches itself behind

comparisons. But, just as reflection and reason are subsequent to

spontaneity, observation to sensation, and experience to instinct, so

property is subsequent to communism. Communism--or association in a

simple form--is the necessary object and original aspiration of the

social nature, the spontaneous movement by which it manifests and

establishes itself. It is the first phase of human civilization. In this

state of society,--which the jurists have called NEGATIVE COMMUNISM--man

draws near to man, and shares with him the fruits of the field and the

milk and flesh of animals. Little by little this communism--negative

as long as man does not produce--tends to become positive and organic

through the development of labor and industry. But it is then that the

sovereignty of thought, and the terrible faculty of reasoning logically

or illogically, teach man that, if equality is the sine qua non of

society, communism is the first species of slavery. To express this idea

by an Hegelian formula, I will say:

Communism--the first expression of the social nature--is the first term

of social development,--the THESIS; property, the reverse of communism,

is the second term,--the ANTITHESIS. When we have discovered the third

term, the SYNTHESIS, we shall have the required solution. Now, this

synthesis necessarily results from the correction of the thesis by the

antithesis. Therefore it is necessary, by a final examination of their

characteristics, to eliminate those features which are hostile to

sociability. The union of the two remainders will give us the true form

of human association.

% 2.--Characteristics of Communism and of Property.

I. I ought not to conceal the fact that property and communism have been

considered always the only possible forms of society. This deplorable

error has been the life of property. The disadvantages of communism are

so obvious that its critics never have needed to employ much eloquence

to thoroughly disgust men with it. The irreparability of the injustice

which it causes, the violence which it does to attractions and

repulsions, the yoke of iron which it fastens upon the will, the moral

torture to which it subjects the conscience, the debilitating effect

which it has upon society; and, to sum it all up, the pious and

stupid uniformity which it enforces upon the free, active, reasoning,

unsubmissive personality of man, have shocked common sense, and

condemned communism by an irrevocable decree.

The authorities and examples cited in its favor disprove it. The

communistic republic of Plato involved slavery; that of Lycurgus

employed Helots, whose duty it was to produce for their masters, thus

enabling the latter to devote themselves exclusively to athletic sports

and to war. Even J. J. Rousseau--confounding communism and equality--has

said somewhere that, without slavery, he did not think equality of

conditions possible. The communities of the early Church did not last

the first century out, and soon degenerated into monasteries. In those

of the Jesuits of Paraguay, the condition of the blacks is said by all

travellers to be as miserable as that of slaves; and it is a fact that

the good Fathers were obliged to surround themselves with ditches and

walls to prevent their new converts from escaping. The followers

of Baboeuf--guided by a lofty horror of property rather than by any

definite belief--were ruined by exaggeration of their principles; the

St. Simonians, lumping communism and inequality, passed away like a

masquerade. The greatest danger to which society is exposed to-day is

that of another shipwreck on this rock.

Singularly enough, systematic communism--the deliberate negation of

property--is conceived under the direct influence of the proprietary

prejudice; and property is the basis of all communistic theories.

The members of a community, it is true, have no private property; but

the community is proprietor, and proprietor not only of the goods, but

of the persons and wills. In consequence of this principle of absolute

property, labor, which should be only a condition imposed upon man by

Nature, becomes in all communities a human commandment, and therefore

odious. Passive obedience, irreconcilable with a reflecting will, is

strictly enforced. Fidelity to regulations, which are always defective,

however wise they may be thought, allows of no complaint. Life, talent,

and all the human faculties are the property of the State, which has

the right to use them as it pleases for the common good. Private

associations are sternly prohibited, in spite of the likes and dislikes

of different natures, because to tolerate them would be to introduce

small communities within the large one, and consequently private

property; the strong work for the weak, although this ought to be left

to benevolence, and not enforced, advised, or enjoined; the industrious

work for the lazy, although this is unjust; the clever work for the

foolish, although this is absurd; and, finally, man--casting aside his

personality, his spontaneity, his genius, and his affections--humbly

annihilates himself at the feet of the majestic and inflexible Commune!

Communism is inequality, but not as property is. Property is the

exploitation of the weak by the strong. Communism is the exploitation

of the strong by the weak. In property, inequality of conditions is

the result of force, under whatever name it be disguised: physical and

mental force; force of events, chance, FORTUNE; force of accumulated

property, &c. In communism, inequality springs from placing mediocrity

on a level with excellence. This damaging equation is repellent to the

conscience, and causes merit to complain; for, although it may be

the duty of the strong to aid the weak, they prefer to do it out of

generosity,--they never will endure a comparison. Give them equal

opportunities of labor, and equal wages, but never allow their jealousy

to be awakened by mutual suspicion of unfaithfulness in the performance

of the common task.

Communism is oppression and slavery. Man is very willing to obey the

law of duty, serve his country, and oblige his friends; but he wishes to

labor when he pleases, where he pleases, and as much as he pleases. He

wishes to dispose of his own time, to be governed only by necessity, to

choose his friendships, his recreation, and his discipline; to act from

judgment, not by command; to sacrifice himself through selfishness, not

through servile obligation. Communism is essentially opposed to the

free exercise of our faculties, to our noblest desires, to our deepest

feelings. Any plan which could be devised for reconciling it with the

demands of the individual reason and will would end only in changing the

thing while preserving the name. Now, if we are honest truth-seekers, we

shall avoid disputes about words.

Thus, communism violates the sovereignty of the conscience, and

equality: the first, by restricting spontaneity of mind and heart,

and freedom of thought and action; the second, by placing labor and

laziness, skill and stupidity, and even vice and virtue on an equality

in point of comfort. For the rest, if property is impossible on account

of the desire to accumulate, communism would soon become so through the

desire to shirk.

II. Property, in its turn, violates equality by the rights of exclusion

and increase, and freedom by despotism. The former effect of property

having been sufficiently developed in the last three chapters, I will

content myself here with establishing by a final comparison, its perfect

identity with robbery.

The Latin words for robber are _fur_ and _latro;_ the former taken from

the Greek {GREEK m }, from {GREEK m }, Latin _fero_, I carry away; the

latter from {GREEK 'i }, I play the part of a brigand, which is derived

from {GREEK i }, Latin _lateo_, I conceal myself. The Greeks have also

{GREEK ncg }, from {GREEK ncg }, I filch, whose radical consonants are

the same as those of {GREEK ' cg }, I cover, I conceal. Thus, in these

languages, the idea of a robber is that of a man who conceals, carries

away, or diverts, in any manner whatever, a thing which does not belong

to him.

The Hebrews expressed the same idea by the word _gannab_,--robber,--from

the verb _ganab_, which means to put away, to turn aside: _lo thi-gnob

(Decalogue: Eighth Commandment_), thou shalt not steal,--that is, thou

shalt not hold back, thou shalt not put away any thing for thyself. That

is the act of a man who, on entering into a society into which he

agrees to bring all that he has, secretly reserves a portion, as did the

celebrated disciple Ananias.

The etymology of the French verb _voler_ is still more significant.

_Voler_, or _faire la vole_ (from the Latin _vola_, palm of the hand),

means to take all the tricks in a game of ombre; so that _le voleur_,

the robber, is the capitalist who takes all, who gets the lion's share.

Probably this verb _voler_ had its origin in the professional slang of

thieves, whence it has passed into common use, and, consequently into

the phraseology of the law.

Robbery is committed in a variety of ways, which have been very

cleverly distinguished and classified by legislators according to their

heinousness or merit, to the end that some robbers may be honored, while

others are punished.

We rob,--1. By murder on the highway; 2. Alone, or in a band; 3. By

breaking into buildings, or scaling walls; 4. By abstraction; 5. By

fraudulent bankruptcy; 6. By forgery of the handwriting of public

officials or private individuals; 7. By manufacture of counterfeit

money.

This species includes all robbers who practise their profession with no

other aid than force and open fraud. Bandits, brigands, pirates, rovers

by land and sea,--these names were gloried in by the ancient heroes, who

thought their profession as noble as it was lucrative. Nimrod, Theseus,

Jason and his Argonauts; Jephthah, David, Cacus, Romulus, Clovis and

all his Merovingian descendants; Robert Guiscard, Tancred de Hauteville,

Bohemond, and most of the Norman heroes,--were brigands and robbers. The

heroic character of the robber is expressed in this line from Horace, in

reference to Achilles,--

_"Jura neget sibi nata, nihil non arroget armis_," [27]

and by this sentence from the dying words of Jacob (Gen. xlviii.), which

the Jews apply to David, and the Christians to their Christ: _Manus ejus

contra omnes_. In our day, the robber--the warrior of the ancients--is

pursued with the utmost vigor. His profession, in the language of the

code, entails ignominious and corporal penalties, from imprisonment to

the scaffold. A sad change in opinions here below!

We rob,--8. By cheating; 9. By swindling; 10. By abuse of trust; 11. By

games and lotteries.

This second species was encouraged by the laws of Lycurgus, in order

to sharpen the wits of the young. It is the kind practised by Ulysses,

Solon, and Sinon; by the ancient and modern Jews, from Jacob down to

Deutz; and by the Bohemians, the Arabs, and all savage tribes. Under

Louis XIII. and Louis XIV., it was not considered dishonorable to cheat

at play. To do so was a part of the game; and many worthy people did not

scruple to correct the caprice of Fortune by dexterous jugglery.

To-day even, and in all countries, it is thought a mark of merit

among peasants, merchants, and shopkeepers to KNOW HOW TO MAKE A

BARGAIN,--that is, to deceive one's man. This is so universally

accepted, that the cheated party takes no offence. It is known with what

reluctance our government resolved upon the abolition of lotteries. It

felt that it was dealing a stab thereby at property. The pickpocket,

the blackleg, and the charlatan make especial use of their dexterity of

hand, their subtlety of mind, the magic power of their eloquence,

and their great fertility of invention. Sometimes they offer bait to

cupidity. Therefore the penal code--which much prefers intelligence

to muscular vigor--has made, of the four varieties mentioned above,

a second category, liable only to correctional, not to Ignominious,

punishments.

Let them now accuse the law of being materialistic and atheistic.

We rob,--12. By usury.

This species of robbery, so odious and so severely punished since the

publication of the Gospel, is the connecting link between forbidden and

authorized robbery. Owing to its ambiguous nature, it has given rise to

a multitude of contradictions in the laws and in morals,--contradictions

which have been very cleverly turned to account by lawyers, financiers,

and merchants. Thus the usurer, who lends on mortgage at ten, twelve,

and fifteen per cent., is heavily fined when detected; while the banker,

who receives the same interest (not, it is true, upon a loan, but in the

way of exchange or discount,--that is, of sale), is protected by royal

privilege. But the distinction between the banker and the usurer is

a purely nominal one. Like the usurer, who lends on property, real or

personal, the banker lends on business paper; like the usurer, he

takes his interest in advance; like the usurer, he can recover from

the borrower if the property is destroyed (that is, if the note is

not redeemed),--a circumstance which makes him a money-lender, not a

money-seller. But the banker lends for a short time only, while

the usurer's loan may be for one, two, three, or more years. Now, a

difference in the duration of the loan, or the form of the act, does not

alter the nature of the transaction. As for the capitalists who invest

their money, either with the State or in commercial operations, at

three, four, and five per cent.,--that is, who lend on usury at a

little lower rate than the bankers and usurers,--they are the flower of

society, the cream of honesty! Moderation in robbery is the height of

virtue! [28]

But what, then, is usury? Nothing is more amusing than to see these

INSTRUCTORS OF NATIONS hesitate between the authority of the Gospel,

which, they say, NEVER CAN HAVE SPOKEN IN VAIN, and the authority of

economical demonstrations. Nothing, to my mind, is more creditable

to the Gospel than this old infidelity of its pretended teachers.

Salmasius, having assimilated interest to rent, was REFUTED by Grotius,

Pufendorf, Burlamaqui, Wolf, and Heineccius; and, what is more curious

still, Salmasius ADMITTED HIS ERROR. Instead of inferring from this

doctrine of Salmasius that all increase is illegitimate, and proceeding

straight on to the demonstration of Gospel equality, they arrived at

just the opposite conclusion; namely, that since everybody acknowledges

that rent is permissible, if we allow that interest does not differ

from rent, there is nothing left which can be called usury, and,

consequently, that the commandment of Jesus Christ is an ILLUSION, and

amounts to NOTHING, which is an impious conclusion.

If this memoir had appeared in the time of Bossuet, that great

theologian would have PROVED by scripture, the fathers, traditions,

councils, and popes, that property exists by Divine right, while usury

is an invention of the devil; and the heretical work would have been

burned, and the author imprisoned.

We rob,--13. By farm-rent, house-rent, and leases of all kinds.

The author of the "Provincial Letters" entertained the honest Christians

of the seventeenth century at the expense of Escobar, the Jesuit,

and the contract Mohatra. "The contract Mohatra," said Escobar, "is a

contract by which goods are bought, at a high price and on credit, to

be again sold at the same moment to the same person, cash down, and at a

lower price." Escobar found a way to justify this kind of usury. Pascal

and all the Jansenists laughed at him. But what would the satirical

Pascal, the learned Nicole, and the invincible Arnaud have said, if

Father Antoine Escobar de Valladolid had answered them thus: "A lease

is a contract by which real estate is bought, at a high price and on

credit, to be again sold, at the expiration of a certain time, to the

same person, at a lower price; only, to simplify the transaction, the

buyer is content to pay the difference between the first sale and the

second. Either deny the identity of the lease and the contract Mohatra,

and then I will annihilate you in a moment; or, if you admit the

similarity, admit also the soundness of my doctrine: otherwise you

proscribe both interest and rent at one blow"?

In reply to this overwhelming argument of the Jesuit, the sire of

Montalte would have sounded the tocsin, and would have shouted

that society was in peril,--that the Jesuits were sapping its very

foundations.

We rob,--14. By commerce, when the profit of the merchant exceeds his

legitimate salary.

Everybody knows the definition of commerce--THE ART OF BUYING FOR THREE

FRANCS THAT WHICH IS WORTH SIX, AND OF SELLING FOR SIX THAT WHICH IS

WORTH THREE. Between commerce thus defined and _vol a l'americaine_,

the only difference is in the relative proportion of the values

exchanged,--in short, in the amount of the profit.

We rob,--15. By making profit on our product, by accepting sinecures,

and by exacting exorbitant wages.

The farmer, who sells a certain amount of corn to the consumer, and who

during the measurement thrusts his hand into the bushel and takes out a

handful of grains, robs; the professor, whose lectures are paid for by

the State, and who through the intervention of a bookseller sells them

to the public a second time, robs; the sinecurist, who receives an

enormous product in exchange for his vanity, robs; the functionary, the

laborer, whatever he may be, who produces only one and gets paid four,

one hundred, or one thousand, robs; the publisher of this book, and I,

its author,--we rob, by charging for it twice as much as it is worth.

In recapitulation:--

Justice, after passing through the state of negative communism, called

by the ancient poets the AGE OF GOLD, commences as the right of the

strongest. In a society which is trying to organize itself, inequality

of faculties calls up the idea of merit; equite suggests the plan of

proportioning not only esteem, but also material comforts, to personal

merit; and since the highest and almost the only merit then recognized

is physical strength, the strongest, {GREEK ' eg }, and consequently

the best, {GREEK ' eg }, is entitled to the largest share; and if it

is refused him, he very naturally takes it by force. From this to the

assumption of the right of property in all things, it is but one step.

Such was justice in the heroic age, preserved, at least by tradition,

among the Greeks and Romans down to the last days of their republics.

Plato, in the "Gorgias," introduces a character named Callicles, who

spiritedly defends the right of the strongest, which Socrates, the

advocate of equality, {GREEK g e }, seriously refutes. It is related

of the great Pompey, that he blushed easily, and, nevertheless, these

words once escaped his lips: "Why should I respect the laws, when I have

arms in my hand?" This shows him to have been a man in whom the moral

sense and ambition were struggling for the mastery, and who sought to

justify his violence by the motto of the hero and the brigand.

From the right of the strongest springs the exploitation of man by

man, or bondage; usury, or the tribute levied upon the conquered by the

conqueror; and the whole numerous family of taxes, duties, monarchical

prerogatives, house-rents, farm-rents, &c.; in one word,--property.

Force was followed by artifice, the second manifestation of justice,

which was detested by the ancient heroes, who, not excelling in that

direction, were heavy losers by it. Force was still employed, but mental

force instead of physical. Skill in deceiving an enemy by treacherous

propositions seemed deserving of reward; nevertheless, the strong always

prided themselves upon their honesty. In those days, oaths were observed

and promises kept according to the letter rather than the spirit: _Uti

lingua nuncupassit, ita jus esto_,--"As the tongue has spoken, so must

the right be," says the law of the Twelve Tables. Artifice, or rather

perfidy, was the main element in the politics of ancient Rome. Among

other examples, Vico cites the following, also quoted by Montesquieu:

The Romans had guaranteed to the Carthaginians the preservation of their

goods and their CITY,--intentionally using the word civitas, that is,

the society, the State; the Carthaginians, on the contrary, understood

them to mean the material city, urbs, and accordingly began to rebuild

their walls. They were immediately attacked on account of their

violation of the treaty, by the Romans, who, acting upon the old

heroic idea of right, did not imagine that, in taking advantage of an

equivocation to surprise their enemies, they were waging unjust war.

From artifice sprang the profits of manufactures, commerce, and banking,

mercantile frauds, and pretensions which are honored with the beautiful

names of TALENT and GENIUS, but which ought to be regarded as the last

degree of knavery and deception; and, finally, all sorts of social

inequalities.

In those forms of robbery which are prohibited by law, force and

artifice are employed alone and undisguised; in the authorized forms,

they conceal themselves within a useful product, which they use as a

tool to plunder their victim.

The direct use of violence and stratagem was early and universally

condemned; but no nation has yet got rid of that kind of robbery which

acts through talent, labor, and possession, and which is the source

of all the dilemmas of casuistry and the innumerable contradictions of

jurisprudence.

The right of force and the right of artifice--glorified by the

rhapsodists in the poems of the "Iliad" and the "Odyssey"--inspired the

legislation of the Greeks and Romans, from which they passed into our

morals and codes. Christianity has not changed at all. The Gospel should

not be blamed, because the priests, as stupid as the legists, have been

unable either to expound or to understand it. The ignorance of councils

and popes upon all questions of morality is equal to that of the

market-place and the money-changers; and it is this utter ignorance

of right, justice, and society, which is killing the Church, and

discrediting its teachings for ever. The infidelity of the Roman church

and other Christian churches is flagrant; all have disregarded the

precept of Jesus; all have erred in moral and doctrinal points; all

are guilty of teaching false and absurd dogmas, which lead straight to

wickedness and murder. Let it ask pardon of God and men,--this church

which called itself infallible, and which has grown so corrupt in

morals; let its reformed sisters humble themselves,... and the people,

undeceived, but still religious and merciful, will begin to think. [29]

One of the main causes of Ireland's poverty to-day is the immense

revenues of the English clergy. So heretics and orthodox--Protestants

and Papists--cannot reproach each other. All have strayed from the path

of justice; all have disobeyed the eighth commandment of the Decalogue:

"Thou shalt not steal."

The development of right has followed the same order, in its various

expressions, that property has in its forms. Every where we see justice

driving robbery before it and confining it within narrower and narrower

limits. Hitherto the victories of justice over injustice, and of

equality over inequality, have been won by instinct and the simple force

of things; but the final triumph of our social nature will be due to

our reason, or else we shall fall back into feudal chaos. Either this

glorious height is reserved for our intelligence, or this miserable

depth for our baseness.

The second effect of property is despotism. Now, since despotism

is inseparably connected with the idea of legitimate authority, in

explaining the natural causes of the first, the principle of the second

will appear.

What is to be the form of government in the future? hear some of my

younger readers reply: "Why, how can you ask such a question?

"You are a republican." "A republican! Yes; but that word specifies

nothing. _Res publica;_ that is, the public thing. Now, whoever

is interested in public affairs--no matter under what form

of government--may call himself a republican. Even kings are

republicans."--

"Well! you are a democrat?"--"No."--"What! you would have a

monarchy."--"No."--"A constitutionalist?"--"God forbid!"--"You are then

an aristocrat?"--"Not at all."--"You want a mixed government?"--"Still

less."--"What are you, then?"--"I am an anarchist."

"Oh! I understand you; you speak satirically. This is a hit at the

government."--"By no means. I have just given you my serious and

well-considered profession of faith. Although a firm friend of order, I

am (in the full force of the term) an anarchist. Listen to me."

In all species of sociable animals, "the weakness of the young is the

principle of their obedience to the old," who are strong; and from habit,

which is a kind of conscience with them, the power remains with the

oldest, although he finally becomes the weakest.

Whenever the society is under the control of a chief, this chief is

almost always the oldest of the troop. I say almost always, because

the established order may be disturbed by violent outbreaks. Then the

authority passes to another; and, having been re-established by force,

it is again maintained by habit. Wild horses go in herds: they have a

chief who marches at their head, whom they confidently follow, and who

gives the signal for flight or battle.

"The sheep which we have raised follows us, but it follows in company

with the flock in the midst of which it was born. It regards man AS THE

CHIEF OF ITS FLOCK.... Man is regarded by domestic animals as a member

of their society. All that he has to do is to get himself accepted by

them as an associate: he soon becomes their chief, in consequence of his

superior intelligence. He does not, then, change the NATURAL CONDITION

of these animals, as Buffon has said. On the contrary, he uses this

natural condition to his own advantage; in other words, he finds

SOCIABLE animals, and renders them DOMESTIC by becoming their associate

and chief. Thus, the DOMESTICITY of animals is only a special condition,

a simple modification, a definitive consequence of their SOCIABILITY.

All domestic animals are by nature sociable animals."...--Flourens:

Summary of the Observations of F. Cuvier.

Sociable animals follow their chief by INSTINCT; but take notice of the

fact (which F. Cuvier omitted to state), that the function of the chief

is altogether one of INTELLIGENCE. The chief does not teach the others

to associate, to unite under his lead, to reproduce their kind, to

take to flight, or to defend themselves. Concerning each of these

particulars, his subordinates are as well informed as he. But it is the

chief who, by his accumulated experience, provides against accidents; he

it is whose private intelligence supplements, in difficult situations,

the general instinct; he it is who deliberates, decides, and leads; he

it is, in short, whose enlightened prudence regulates the public routine

for the greatest good of all.

Man (naturally a sociable being) naturally follows a chief. Originally,

the chief is the father, the patriarch, the elder; in other words, the

good and wise man, whose functions, consequently, are exclusively of a

reflective and intellectual nature. The human race--like all other

races of sociable animals--has its instincts, its innate faculties, its

general ideas, and its categories of sentiment and reason. Its chiefs,

legislators, or kings have devised nothing, supposed nothing, imagined

nothing. They have only guided society by their accumulated experience,

always however in conformity with opinions and beliefs.

Those philosophers who (carrying into morals and into history their

gloomy and factious whims) affirm that the human race had originally

neither chiefs nor kings, know nothing of the nature of man. Royalty,

and absolute royalty, is--as truly and more truly than democracy--a

primitive form of government. Perceiving that, in the remotest ages,

crowns and kingships were worn by heroes, brigands, and knight-errants,

they confound the two things,--royalty and despotism. But royalty dates

from the creation of man; it existed in the age of negative communism.

Ancient heroism (and the despotism which it engendered) commenced only

with the first manifestation of the idea of justice; that is, with the

reign of force. As soon as the strongest, in the comparison of merits,

was decided to be the best, the oldest had to abandon his position, and

royalty became despotic.

The spontaneous, instinctive, and--so to speak--physiological origin of

royalty gives it, in the beginning, a superhuman character. The

nations connected it with the gods, from whom they said the first kings

descended. This notion was the origin of the divine genealogies of royal

families, the incarnations of gods, and the messianic fables. From it

sprang the doctrine of divine right, which is still championed by a few

singular characters.

Royalty was at first elective, because--at a time when man produced but

little and possessed nothing--property was too weak to establish the

principle of heredity, and secure to the son the throne of his father;

but as soon as fields were cleared, and cities built, each function

was, like every thing else, appropriated, and hereditary kingships and

priesthoods were the result. The principle of heredity was carried into

even the most ordinary professions,--a circumstance which led to class

distinctions, pride of station, and abjection of the common people, and

which confirms my assertion, concerning the principle of patrimonial

succession, that it is a method suggested by Nature of filling vacancies

in business, and completing unfinished tasks.

From time to time, ambition caused usurpers, or SUPPLANTERS of kings,

to start up; and, in consequence, some were called kings by right, or

legitimate kings, and others TYRANTS. But we must not let these names

deceive us. There have been execrable kings, and very tolerable tyrants.

Royalty may always be good, when it is the only possible form of

government; legitimate it is never. Neither heredity, nor election,

nor universal suffrage, nor the excellence of the sovereign, nor the

consecration of religion and of time, can make royalty legitimate.

Whatever form it takes,--monarchic, oligarchic, or democratic,--royalty,

or the government of man by man, is illegitimate and absurd.

Man, in order to procure as speedily as possible the most thorough

satisfaction of his wants, seeks RULE. In the beginning, this rule is

to him living, visible, and tangible. It is his father, his master, his

king. The more ignorant man is, the more obedient he is, and the more

absolute is his confidence in his guide. But, it being a law of man's

nature to conform to rule,--that is, to discover it by his powers of

reflection and reason,--man reasons upon the commands of his chiefs.

Now, such reasoning as that is a protest against authority,--a beginning

of disobedience. At the moment that man inquires into the motives which

govern the will of his sovereign,--at that moment man revolts. If

he obeys no longer because the king commands, but because the king

demonstrates the wisdom of his commands, it may be said that henceforth

he will recognize no authority, and that he has become his own king.

Unhappy he who shall dare to command him, and shall offer, as his

authority, only the vote of the majority; for, sooner or later, the

minority will become the majority, and this imprudent despot will be

overthrown, and all his laws annihilated.

In proportion as society becomes enlightened, royal authority

diminishes. That is a fact to which all history bears witness. At the

birth of nations, men reflect and reason in vain. Without methods,

without principles, not knowing how to use their reason, they cannot

judge of the justice of their conclusions. Then the authority of kings

is immense, no knowledge having been acquired with which to contradict

it. But, little by little, experience produces habits, which develop

into customs; then the customs are formulated in maxims, laid down as

principles,--in short, transformed into laws, to which the king, the

living law, has to bow. There comes a time when customs and laws are so

numerous that the will of the prince is, so to speak, entwined by the

public will; and that, on taking the crown, he is obliged to swear that

he will govern in conformity with established customs and usages; and

that he is but the executive power of a society whose laws are made

independently of him.

Up to this point, all is done instinctively, and, as it were,

unconsciously; but see where this movement must end.

By means of self-instruction and the acquisition of ideas, man finally

acquires the idea of SCIENCE,--that is, of a system of knowledge in

harmony with the reality of things, and inferred from observation.

He searches for the science, or the system, of inanimate bodies,--the

system of organic bodies, the system of the human mind, and the system

of the universe: why should he not also search for the system of

society? But, having reached this height, he comprehends that political

truth, or the science of politics, exists quite independently of

the will of sovereigns, the opinion of majorities, and popular

beliefs,--that kings, ministers, magistrates, and nations, as wills,

have no connection with the science, and are worthy of no consideration.

He comprehends, at the same time, that, if man is born a sociable being,

the authority of his father over him ceases on the day when, his mind

being formed and his education finished, he becomes the associate of his

father; that his true chief and his king is the demonstrated truth; that

politics is a science, not a stratagem; and that the function of the

legislator is reduced, in the last analysis, to the methodical search

for truth.

Thus, in a given society, the authority of man over man is inversely

proportional to the stage of intellectual development which that

society has reached; and the probable duration of that authority can

be calculated from the more or less general desire for a true

government,--that is, for a scientific government. And just as the right

of force and the right of artifice retreat before the steady advance

of justice, and must finally be extinguished in equality, so the

sovereignty of the will yields to the sovereignty of the reason, and

must at last be lost in scientific socialism. Property and royalty

have been crumbling to pieces ever since the world began. As man seeks

justice in equality, so society seeks order in anarchy.

ANARCHY,--the absence of a master, of a sovereign, [30]--such is the

form of government to which we are every day approximating, and which

our accustomed habit of taking man for our rule, and his will for law,

leads us to regard as the height of disorder and the expression of

chaos. The story is told, that a citizen of Paris in the seventeenth

century having heard it said that in Venice there was no king, the

good man could not recover from his astonishment, and nearly died from

laughter at the mere mention of so ridiculous a thing. So strong is our

prejudice. As long as we live, we want a chief or chiefs; and at this

very moment I hold in my hand a brochure, whose author--a zealous

communist--dreams, like a second Marat, of the dictatorship. The most

advanced among us are those who wish the greatest possible number of

sovereigns,--their most ardent wish is for the royalty of the National

Guard. Soon, undoubtedly, some one, jealous of the citizen militia, will

say, "Everybody is king." But, when he has spoken, I will say, in my

turn, "Nobody is king; we are, whether we will or no, associated."

Every question of domestic politics must be decided by departmental

statistics; every question of foreign politics is an affair of

international statistics. The science of government rightly belongs

to one of the sections of the Academy of Sciences, whose permanent

secretary is necessarily prime minister; and, since every citizen may

address a memoir to the Academy, every citizen is a legislator. But, as

the opinion of no one is of any value until its truth has been proven,

no one can substitute his will for reason,--nobody is king.

All questions of legislation and politics are matters of science, not of

opinion. The legislative power belongs only to the reason, methodically

recognized and demonstrated. To attribute to any power whatever the

right of veto or of sanction, is the last degree of tyranny. Justice

and legality are two things as independent of our approval as is

mathematical truth. To compel, they need only to be known; to be known,

they need only to be considered and studied. What, then, is the nation,

if it is not the sovereign,--if it is not the source of the legislative

power?

The nation is the guardian of the law--the nation is the EXECUTIVE

POWER. Every citizen may assert: "This is true; that is just;" but his

opinion controls no one but himself. That the truth which he proclaims

may become a law, it must be recognized. Now, what is it to recognize a

law? It is to verify a mathematical or a metaphysical calculation; it is

to repeat an experiment, to observe a phenomenon, to establish a fact.

Only the nation has the right to say, "Be it known and decreed."

I confess that this is an overturning of received ideas, and that I seem

to be attempting to revolutionize our political system; but I beg the

reader to consider that, having begun with a paradox, I must, if I

reason correctly, meet with paradoxes at every step, and must end with

paradoxes. For the rest, I do not see how the liberty of citizens would

be endangered by entrusting to their hands, instead of the pen of

the legislator, the sword of the law. The executive power, belonging

properly to the will, cannot be confided to too many proxies. That is

the true sovereignty of the nation. [31]

The proprietor, the robber, the hero, the sovereign--for all these

titles are synonymous--imposes his will as law, and suffers neither

contradiction nor control; that is, he pretends to be the legislative

and the executive power at once. Accordingly, the substitution of the

scientific and true law for the royal will is accomplished only by a

terrible struggle; and this constant substitution is, after property,

the most potent element in history, the most prolific source of

political disturbances. Examples are too numerous and too striking to

require enumeration.

Now, property necessarily engenders despotism,--the government of

caprice, the reign of libidinous pleasure. That is so clearly the

essence of property that, to be convinced of it, one need but remember

what it is, and observe what happens around him. Property is the right

to USE and ABUSE. If, then, government is economy,--if its object

is production and consumption, and the distribution of labor and

products,--how is government possible while property exists? And

if goods are property, why should not the proprietors be kings, and

despotic kings--kings in proportion to their _facultes bonitaires_? And

if each proprietor is sovereign lord within the sphere of his property,

absolute king throughout his own domain, how could a government of

proprietors be any thing but chaos and confusion?

% 3.--Determination of the third form of Society. Conclusion.

Then, no government, no public economy, no administration, is possible,

which is based upon property.

Communism seeks EQUALITY and LAW. Property, born of the sovereignty of

the reason, and the sense of personal merit, wishes above all things

INDEPENDENCE and PROPORTIONALITY.

But communism, mistaking uniformity for law, and levelism for

equality, becomes tyrannical and unjust. Property, by its despotism and

encroachments, soon proves itself oppressive and anti-social.

The objects of communism and property are good--their results are bad.

And why? Because both are exclusive, and each disregards two elements

of society. Communism rejects independence and proportionality; property

does not satisfy equality and law.

Now, if we imagine a society based upon these four

principles,--equality, law, independence, and proportionality,--we

find:--

1. That EQUALITY, consisting only in EQUALITY OF CONDITIONS, that is, OF

MEANS, and not in EQUALITY OF COMFORT,--which it is the business of the

laborers to achieve for themselves, when provided with equal means,--in

no way violates justice and equite.

2. That LAW, resulting from the knowledge of facts, and consequently

based upon necessity itself, never clashes with independence.

3. That individual INDEPENDENCE, or the autonomy of the private reason,

originating in the difference in talents and capacities, can exist

without danger within the limits of the law.

4. That PROPORTIONALITY, being admitted only in the sphere of

intelligence and sentiment, and not as regards material objects, may be

observed without violating justice or social equality.

This third form of society, the synthesis of communism and property, we

will call LIBERTY. [32]

In determining the nature of liberty, we do not unite communism and

property indiscriminately; such a process would be absurd eclecticism.

We search by analysis for those elements in each which are true, and

in harmony with the laws of Nature and society, disregarding the rest

altogether; and the result gives us an adequate expression of the

natural form of human society,--in one word, liberty.

Liberty is equality, because liberty exists only in society; and in the

absence of equality there is no society.

Liberty is anarchy, because it does not admit the government of the

will, but only the authority of the law; that is, of necessity.

Liberty is infinite variety, because it respects all wills within the

limits of the law.

Liberty is proportionality, because it allows the utmost latitude to the

ambition for merit, and the emulation of glory.

We can now say, in the words of M. Cousin: "Our principle is true; it is

good, it is social; let us not fear to push it to its ultimate."

Man's social nature becoming JUSTICE through reflection, EQUITE through

the classification of capacities, and having LIBERTY for its formula,

is the true basis of morality,--the principle and regulator of all our

actions. This is the universal motor, which philosophy is searching for,

which religion strengthens, which egotism supplants, and whose place

pure reason never can fill. DUTY and RIGHT are born of NEED, which, when

considered in connection with others, is a RIGHT, and when considered in

connection with ourselves, a DUTY.

We need to eat and sleep. It is our right to procure those things which

are necessary to rest and nourishment. It is our duty to use them when

Nature requires it.

We need to labor in order to live. To do so is both our right and our

duty.

We need to love our wives and children. It is our duty to protect and

support them. It is our right to be loved in preference to all others.

Conjugal fidelity is justice. Adultery is high treason against society.

We need to exchange our products for other products. It is our right

that this exchange should be one of equivalents; and since we consume

before we produce, it would be our duty, if we could control the matter,

to see to it that our last product shall follow our last consumption.

Suicide is fraudulent bankruptcy.

We need to live our lives according to the dictates of our reason. It

is our right to maintain our freedom. It is our duty to respect that of

others.

We need to be appreciated by our fellows. It is our duty to deserve

their praise. It is our right to be judged by our works.

Liberty is not opposed to the rights of succession and bequest. It

contents itself with preventing violations of equality. "Choose," it

tells us, "between two legacies, but do not take them both." All our

legislation concerning transmissions, entailments, adoptions, and, if I

may venture to use such a word, COADJUTORERIES, requires remodelling.

Liberty favors emulation, instead of destroying it. In social equality,

emulation consists in accomplishing under like conditions; it is its own

reward. No one suffers by the victory.

Liberty applauds self-sacrifice, and honors it with its votes, but it

can dispense with it. Justice alone suffices to maintain the social

equilibrium. Self-sacrifice is an act of supererogation. Happy, however,

the man who can say, "I sacrifice myself." [33]

Liberty is essentially an organizing force. To insure equality between

men and peace among nations, agriculture and industry, and the centres

of education, business, and storage, must be distributed according to

the climate and the geographical position of the country, the nature of

the products, the character and natural talents of the inhabitants, &c.,

in proportions so just, so wise, so harmonious, that in no place shall

there ever be either an excess or a lack of population, consumption, and

products. There commences the science of public and private right,

the true political economy. It is for the writers on jurisprudence,

henceforth unembarrassed by the false principle of property, to describe

the new laws, and bring peace upon earth. Knowledge and genius they do

not lack; the foundation is now laid for them. [34]

I have accomplished my task; property is conquered, never again to

arise. Wherever this work is read and discussed, there will be deposited

the germ of death to property; there, sooner or later, privilege and

servitude will disappear, and the despotism of will will give place to

the reign of reason. What sophisms, indeed, what prejudices

(however obstinate) can stand before the simplicity of the following

propositions:--

I. Individual POSSESSION [35] is the condition of social life; five

thousand years of property demonstrate it. PROPERTY is the suicide of

society. Possession is a right; property is against right. Suppress

property while maintaining possession, and, by this simple modification

of the principle, you will revolutionize law, government, economy, and

institutions; you will drive evil from the face of the earth.

II. All having an equal right of occupancy, possession varies with the

number of possessors; property cannot establish itself.

III. The effect of labor being the same for all, property is lost in the

common prosperity.

IV. All human labor being the result of collective force, all property

becomes, in consequence, collective and unitary. To speak more exactly,

labor destroys property.