Perhaps, too, while speaking of _liberty_ as something very respectable

and very dear in their eyes, they give the term a meaning quite

different from the conception entertained by us, materialists and

Revolutionary Socialists. Indeed, they never speak of it without

immediately adding another word, _authority_--a word and a thing which

we detest with all our heart.

What is authority? Is it the inevitable power of the natural laws which

manifest themselves in the necessary concatenation and succession of

phenomena in the physical and social worlds? Indeed, against these

laws revolt is not only forbidden--it is even impossible. We may

misunderstand them or not know them at all, but we cannot disobey them;

because they constitute the basis and fundamental conditions of our

existence; they envelop us, penetrate us, regulate all our movements,

thoughts, and acts; even when we believe that we disobey them, we only

show their omnipotence.

Yes, we are absolutely the slaves of these laws. But in such slavery

there is no humiliation, or, rather, it is not slavery at all. For

slavery supposes an external master, a legislator outside of him whom he

commands, while these laws are not outside of us; they are inherent

in us; they constitute our being, our whole being, physically,

intellectually, and morally: we live, we breathe, we act, we think, we

wish only through these laws. Without them we are nothing, _we are not_.

Whence, then, could we derive the power and the wish to rebel against

them?

In his relation to natural laws but one liberty is possible to man--that

of recognizing and applying them on an ever-extending scale in

conformity with the object of collective and individual emancipation or

humanization which he pursues. These laws, once recognized, exercise an

authority which is never disputed by the mass of men. One must, for

instance, be at bottom either a fool or a theologian or at least a

metaphysician, jurist, or bourgeois economist to rebel against the law

by which twice two make four. One must have faith to imagine that fire

will not burn nor water drown, except, indeed, recourse be had to some

subterfuge founded in its turn on some other natural law. But these

revolts, or, rather, these attempts at or foolish fancies of an

impossible revolt, are decidedly the exception; for, in general, it may

be said that the mass of men, in their daily lives, acknowledge the

government of common sense--that is, of the sum of the natural laws

generally recognized--in an almost absolute fashion.

The great misfortune is that a large number of natural laws, already

established as such by science, remain unknown to the masses, thanks to

the watchfulness of these tutelary governments that exist, as we know,

only for the good of the people. There is another difficulty--namely,

that the major portion of the natural laws connected with the

development of human society, which are quite as necessary, invariable,

fatal, as the laws that govern the physical world, have not been duly

established and recognized by science itself.

Once they shall have been recognized by science, and then from science,

by means of an extensive system of popular education and instruction,

shall have passed into the consciousness of all, the question of

liberty will be entirely solved. The most stubborn authorities must

admit that then there will be no need either of political organization

or direction or legislation, three things which, whether they emanate

from the will of the sovereign or from the vote of a parliament elected

by universal suffrage, and even should they conform to the system of

natural laws--which has never been the case and never will be the

case--are always equally fatal and hostile to the liberty of the masses

from the very fact that they impose upon them a system of external and

therefore despotic laws.

The liberty of man consists solely in this: that he obeys natural laws

because he has _himself_ recognized them as such, and not because they

have been externally imposed upon him by any extrinsic will whatever,

divine or human, collective or individual.

Suppose a learned academy, composed of the most illustrious

representatives of science; suppose this academy charged with

legislation for and the organization of society, and that, inspired only

by the purest love of truth, it frames none but laws in absolute harmony

with the latest discoveries of science. Well, I maintain, for my part,

that such legislation and such organization would be a monstrosity,

and that for two reasons: first, that human science is always and

necessarily imperfect, and that, comparing what it has discovered with

what remains to be discovered, we may say that it is still in its

cradle. So that were we to try to force the practical life of men,

collective as well as individual, into strict and exclusive conformity

with the latest data of science, we should condemn society as well as

individuals to suffer martyrdom on a bed of Procrustes, which would soon

end by dislocating and stifling them, life ever remaining an infinitely

greater thing than science.

The second reason is this: a society which should obey legislation

emanating from a scientific academy, not because it understood itself

the rational character of this legislation (in which case the existence

of the academy would become useless), but because this legislation,

emanating from the academy, was imposed in the name of a science which

it venerated without comprehending--such a society would be a society,

not of men, but of brutes. It would be a second edition of those

missions in Paraguay which submitted so long to the government of the

Jesuits. It would surely and rapidly descend to the lowest stage of

idiocy.

But there is still a third reason which would render such a government

impossible--namely that a scientific academy invested with a

sovereignty, so to speak, absolute, even if it were composed of the most

illustrious men, would infallibly and soon end in its own moral and

intellectual corruption. Even to-day, with the few privileges allowed

them, such is the history of all academies. The greatest scientific

genius, from the moment that he becomes an academician, an officially

licensed _savant_, inevitably lapses into sluggishness. He loses his

spontaneity, his revolutionary hardihood, and that troublesome and

savage energy characteristic of the grandest geniuses, ever called

to destroy old tottering worlds and lay the foundations of new. He

undoubtedly gains in politeness, in utilitarian and practical wisdom,

what he loses in power of thought. In a word, he becomes corrupted.

It is the characteristic of privilege and of every privileged position

to kill the mind and heart of men. The privileged man, whether

politically or economically, is a man depraved in mind and heart. That

is a social law which admits of no exception, and is as applicable to

entire nations as to classes, corporations, and individuals. It is the

law of equality, the supreme condition of liberty and humanity. The

principal object of this treatise is precisely to demonstrate this truth

in all the manifestations of human life.

A scientific body to which had been confided the government of society

would soon end by devoting itself no longer to science at all, but to

quite another affair; and that affair, as in the case of all established

powers, would be its own eternal perpetuation by rendering the society

confided to its care ever more stupid and consequently more in need of

its government and direction.

But that which is true of scientific academies is also true of all

constituent and legislative assemblies, even those chosen by universal

suffrage. In the latter case they may renew their composition, it is

true, but this does not prevent the formation in a few years' time of a

body of politicians, privileged in fact though not in law, who, devoting

themselves exclusively to the direction of the public affairs of a

country, finally form a sort of political aristocracy or oligarchy.

Witness the United States of America and Switzerland.

Consequently, no external legislation and no authority--one, for that

matter, being inseparable from the other, and both tending to the

servitude of society and the degradation of the legislators themselves.

Does it follow that I reject all authority? Far from me such a thought.

In the matter of boots, I refer to the authority of the bootmaker;

concerning houses, canals, or railroads, I consult that of the architect

or engineer. For such or such special knowledge I apply to such or such

a _savant_. But I allow neither the bootmaker nor the architect nor the

_savant_ to impose his authority upon me. I listen to them freely and

with all the respect merited by their intelligence, their character,

their knowledge, reserving always my incontestable right of criticism

and censure. I do not content myself with consulting a single authority

in any special branch; I consult several; I compare their opinions,

and choose that which seems to me the soundest. But I recognize no

infallible authority, even in special questions; consequently, whatever

respect I may have for the honesty and the sincerity of such or such an

individual, I have no absolute faith in any person. Such a faith would

be fatal to my reason, to my liberty, and even to the success of my

undertakings; it would immediately transform me into a stupid slave, an

instrument of the will and interests of others.

If I bow before the authority of the specialists and avow my readiness

to follow, to a certain extent and as long as may seem to me necessary,

their indications and even their directions, it is because their

authority is imposed upon me by no one, neither by men nor by God.

Otherwise I would repel them with horror, and bid the devil take their

counsels, their directions, and their services, certain that they would

make me pay, by the loss of my liberty and self-respect, for such scraps

of truth, wrapped in a multitude of lies, as they might give me.

I bow before the authority of special men because it is imposed upon

me by my own reason. I am conscious of my inability to grasp, in all

its details and positive developments, any very large portion of

human knowledge. The greatest intelligence would not be equal to a

comprehension of the whole. Thence results, for science as well as for

industry, the necessity of the division and association of labor. I

receive and I give--such is human life. Each directs and is directed

in his turn. Therefore there is no fixed and constant authority, but

a continual exchange of mutual, temporary, and, above all, voluntary

authority and subordination.

This same reason forbids me, then, to recognize a fixed, constant, and

universal authority, because there is no universal man, no man capable

of grasping in that wealth of detail, without which the application of

science to life is impossible, all the sciences, all the branches of

social life. And if such universality could ever be realized in a single

man, and if he wished to take advantage thereof to impose his authority

upon us, it would be necessary to drive this man out of society, because

his authority would inevitably reduce all the others to slavery and

imbecility. I do not think that society ought to maltreat men of genius

as it has done hitherto; but neither do I think it should indulge them

too far, still less accord them any privileges or exclusive rights

whatsoever; and that for three reasons: first, because it would often

mistake a charlatan for a man of genius; second, because, through such

a system of privileges, it might transform into a charlatan even a real

man of genius, demoralize him, and degrade him; and, finally, because

it would establish a master over itself.

To sum up. We recognize, then, the absolute authority of science,

because the sole object of science is the mental reproduction, as

well-considered and systematic as possible, of the natural laws inherent

in the material, intellectual, and moral life of both the physical and

the social worlds, these two worlds constituting, in fact, but one and

the same natural world. Outside of this only legitimate authority,

legitimate because rational and in harmony with human liberty, we

declare all other authorities false, arbitrary and fatal.

We recognize the absolute authority of science, but we reject the

infallibility and universality of the _savant_. In our church--if I may

be permitted to use for a moment an expression which I so detest: Church

and State are my two _betes noires_--in our church, as in the Protestant

church, we have a chief, an invisible Christ, science; and, like the

Protestants, more logical even than the Protestants, we will suffer

neither pope, nor council, nor conclaves of infallible cardinals, nor

bishops, nor even priests. Our Christ differs from the Protestant and

Christian Christ in this--that the latter is a personal being, ours

impersonal; the Christian Christ, already completed in an eternal past,

presents himself as a perfect being, while the completion and perfection

of our Christ, science, are ever in the future: which is equivalent to

saying that they will never be realized. Therefore, in recognizing

_absolute science_ as the only absolute authority, we in no way

compromise our liberty.

I mean by the words "absolute science," the truly universal science

which would reproduce ideally, to its fullest extent and in all its

infinite detail, the universe, the system or co-ordination of all the

natural laws manifested by the incessant development of the world. It is

evident that such a science, the sublime object of all the efforts of

the human mind, will never be fully and absolutely realized. Our Christ,

then, will remain eternally unfinished, which must considerably take

down the pride of his licensed representatives among us. Against that

God the Son in whose name they assume to impose upon us their insolent

and pedantic authority, we appeal to God the Father, who is the real

world, real life, of which he (the Son) is only a too imperfect

expression, whilst we real beings, living, working, struggling, loving,

aspiring, enjoying, and suffering, are its immediate representatives.

But, while rejecting the absolute, universal, and infallible authority

of men of science, we willingly bow before the respectable, although

relative, quite temporary, and very restricted authority of the

representatives of special sciences, asking nothing better than to

consult them by turns, and very grateful for such precious information

as they may extend to us, on condition of their willingness to receive

from us on occasions when, and concerning matters about which, we are

more learned than they. In general, we ask nothing better than to see

men endowed with great knowledge, great experience, great minds, and,

above all, great hearts, exercise over us a natural and legitimate

influence, freely accepted, and never imposed in the name of any

official authority whatsoever, celestial or terrestrial. We accept all

natural authorities and all influences of fact, but none of right; for

every authority or every influence of right, officially imposed as such,

becoming directly an oppression and a falsehood, would inevitably impose

upon us, as I believe I have sufficiently shown, slavery and absurdity.

In a word, we reject all legislation, all authority, and all privileged,

licensed, official, and legal influence, even though arising from

universal suffrage, convinced that it can turn only to the advantage of

a dominant minority of exploiters against the interests of the immense

majority in subjection to them.

This is the sense in which we are really Anarchists.

The modern idealists understand authority in quite a different way.

Although free from the traditional superstitions of all the existing

positive religions, they nevertheless attach to this idea of authority

a divine, an absolute meaning. This authority is not that of a truth

miraculously revealed, nor that of a truth rigorously and scientifically

demonstrated. They base it to a slight extent upon quasi-philosophical

reasoning, and to a large extent on vaguely religious faith, to a large

extent also on sentiment, ideally, abstractly poetical. Their religion

is, as it were, a last attempt to divinize all that constitutes humanity

in men.

This is just the opposite of the work that we are doing. In behalf

of human liberty, dignity, and prosperity, we believe it our duty to

recover from heaven the goods which it has stolen and return them to

earth. They, on the contrary, endeavoring to commit a final religiously

heroic larceny, would restore to heaven, that divine robber, finally

unmasked, the grandest, finest, and noblest of humanity's possessions.

It is now the freethinkers' turn to pillage heaven by their audacious

impiety and scientific analysis.

The idealists undoubtedly believe that human ideas and deeds, in order

to exercise greater authority among men, must be invested with a divine

sanction. How is this sanction manifested? Not by a miracle, as in the

positive religions, but by the very grandeur or sanctity of the ideas

and deeds: whatever is grand, whatever is beautiful, whatever is noble,

whatever is just, is considered divine. In this new religious cult every

man inspired by these ideas, by these deeds, becomes a priest, directly

consecrated by God himself. And the proof? He needs none beyond the

very grandeur of the ideas which he expresses and the deeds which he

performs. These are so holy that they can have been inspired only by

God.

Such, in few words, is their whole philosophy: a philosophy of

sentiments, not of real thoughts, a sort of metaphysical pietism. This

seems harmless, but it is not so at all, and the very precise, very

narrow, and very barren doctrine hidden under the intangible vagueness

of these poetic forms leads to the same disastrous results that all the

positive religions lead to--namely, the most complete negation of human

liberty and dignity.

To proclaim as divine all that is grand, just, noble, and beautiful in

humanity is to tacitly admit that humanity of itself would have been

unable to produce it--that is, that, abandoned to itself, its own nature

is miserable, iniquitous, base, and ugly. Thus we come back to the

essence of all religion--in other words, to the disparagement of

humanity for the greater glory of divinity. And from the moment that the

natural inferiority of man and his fundamental incapacity to rise by his

own effort, unaided by any divine inspiration, to the comprehension of

just and true ideas, are admitted, it becomes necessary to admit also

all the theological, political, and social consequences of the positive

religions. From the moment that God, the perfect and supreme being, is

posited face to face with humanity, divine mediators, the elect, the

inspired of God spring from the earth to enlighten, direct, and govern

in his name the human race.

May we not suppose that all men are equally inspired by God? Then,

surely, there is no further use for mediators. But this supposition is

impossible, because it is too clearly contradicted by the facts. It

would compel us to attribute to divine inspiration all the absurdities

and errors which appear, and all the horrors, follies, base deeds, and

cowardly actions which are committed, in the world. But perhaps, then,

only a few men are divinely inspired, the great men of history, the

_virtuous geniuses_, as the illustrious Italian citizen and prophet,

Giuseppe Mazzini, called them. Immediately inspired by God himself and

supported upon universal consent expressed by popular suffrage--_Dio e

Popolo_--such as these should be called to the government of human

societies.[3]

But here we are again fallen back under the yoke of Church and State.

It is true that in this new organization, indebted for its existence,

like all the old political organizations, to the _grace of God_, but

supported this time--at least so far as form is concerned, as a

necessary concession to the spirit of modern times, and just as in the

preambles of the imperial decrees of Napoleon III.--on the (pretended)

_will of the people_, the Church will no longer call itself Church; it

will call itself School. What matters it? On the benches of this School

will be seated not children only; there will be found the eternal minor,

the pupil confessedly forever incompetent to pass his examinations,

rise to the knowledge of his teachers, and dispense with their

discipline--the people.[4] The State will no longer call itself

Monarchy; it will call itself Republic: but it will be none the less the

State--that is, a tutelage officially and regularly established by a

minority of competent men, _men of virtuous genius or talent_, who will

watch and guide the conduct of this great, incorrigible, and terrible

child, the people. The professors of the School and the functionaries of

the State will call themselves republicans; but they will be none the

less tutors, shepherds, and the people will remain what they have been

hitherto from all eternity, a flock. Beware of shearers, for where there

is a flock there necessarily must be shepherds also to shear and devour

it.

The people, in this system, will be the perpetual scholar and pupil. In

spite of its sovereignty, wholly fictitious, it will continue to serve

as the instrument of thoughts, wills, and consequently interests not its

own. Between this situation and what we call liberty, the only real

liberty, there is an abyss. It will be the old oppression and old

slavery under new forms; and where there is slavery there is misery,

brutishness, real social _materialism_, among the privileged classes as

well as among the masses.

_In deifying human things the idealists always end in the triumph of a

brutal materialism._ And this for a very simple reason: the divine

evaporates and rises to its own country, heaven, while the brutal alone

remains actually on earth.

Yes, the necessary consequence of theoretical idealism is practically

the most brutal materialism; not, undoubtedly, among those who sincerely

preach it--the usual result as far as they are concerned being that they

are constrained to see all their efforts struck with sterility--but

among those who try to realize their precepts in life, and in all

society so far as it allows itself to be dominated by idealistic

doctrines.

To demonstrate this general fact, which may appear strange at first,

but which explains itself naturally enough upon further reflection,

historical proofs are not lacking.

God and the State · 第 2 / 7 段