INTRODUCTION
Every human being alive today is the subject of some state or other. A statement like this is bound to lead to anyone of a philosophical temperament reaching for a counter-example. Isn't there a reclusive millionaire somewhere, sitting out on his own island? And aren't there hermits, survivalists, and even tribal peoples who refuse to accept the authority of any state? But whether or not these are genuine counter-examples-probably not-the scarcity of plausible candidates alone makes the main point. Human beings, for whatever reasons, have a strong tendency to organize themselves into societies, and these societies contain the type of power structures which will tend to qualify them as states.
In the next section we will look at what the state is, and whether it might be justified. Here our primary task is to consider the related question of whether we can conceive of human beings living without a state, or other organized power structure. Is it possible? Might it even be preferable to how things are now? This is the question of what life would be like in 'the state of nature'. Reflection on this question goes hand in hand with reflection on human nature. Aristotle, in the first selection here, argues that the state and human beings are made for each other: the good human life is simply not possible without the state,
Hobbes reaches a similar conclusion, if for different reasons, famously and graphically arguing that life in the state of nature is 'solitary, poor, nasty, brutish and short'. The state of nature, argues Hobbes, is a place where it is too dangerous to respect the moral law, and people cannot be criticized for doing what- ever they feel necessary-in- competition with others--for their own preservation. Locke presents a moderate view: the state of nature, although 'inconvenient', is governed by a law of nature which commands people to pre- serve each other as well as themselves. This law generates natural rights, and Locke argues that individuals in the state of nature even have the right to punish those who violate the natural rights of others. Locke is keen to argue that the state of nature need not be a state of war.
Montesquieu agrees with Hobbes that individuals in the state of nature would be highly fearful of each other, but argues that this will tend to keep them formed themselves into societies. Rousseau, typically, is contemptuous of earlier philosophers attempts to give a true picture of the life of the 'savage'. And, with some justice, accuses his predecessors of projecting their experience of human beings, softened and corrupted by civilized society, back on to the state of nature. Rousseau paints a picture of a human being as a member of the animal kingdom: an animal with the wits and skill to flourish, but one with instincts for survival and compassion, in contrast to Hobbes's calculator of self-interest or Locke's possessor and enforcer of natural rights.
There are, of course, ways of talking about human nature which do not require one to imagine a state of nature, and the selections from Robert Owen provide an example. Owen asserted the extreme materialist thesis that the character of any human being is entirely determined by that being's circumstances. Change the circumstances and you will change the person. We have included texts where Owen lays out his view, as well as an illustration of how he thought it might usefully be applied through the use of the device of a 'silent monitor'. Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels, though influenced to a degree by Owen, believed that his view was simplistic. In contrast they emphasize the capacity of human beings to change themselves and their social relations through their productive activity, in their social interaction with material nature.
in the first of two selections Darwin explains how nature selects those organisms with competitive advantages over others, while in the second he argues that even though acting according to a high moral standard does not aid an individual, a group in which moral standards exist will win in competition with a group which has no such standards. Finally, the anarchist, Kropotkin, in opposition to Hobbes as well as to Darwin, seeks to convince us of the cooperative nature of all animal species, human beings among them.
We remarked earlier that reflection on the state of nature goes hand in hand with reflection about human nature. And this leads to the second part of this section. Is there a difference between male nature and female nature? If so, should this-should anything-rationally exclude women from participation in the political process, as has been the case for the great part of human history? In addition to lacking the right to vote or stand for office, women have, at various times and places, lacked the right to hold private property, to enter various professions, or even to receive a university degree. Things are improving, of course, but no doubt forms of discrimination exist that we don't even recognize yet.
The selection from Plato provides one common view of the social place of men and women: that both men and women can perform all social functions, but aside from such 'trivial' matters as weaving and cooking, men tend to be much better than women. Nevertheless, an exceptional woman can compete on equal terms. Aristotle provides an equally common opposing view: that men and women have their own special functions, and are each supreme in their own sphere. Rousseau pursues a similar theme in greater detail, dwelling on the delicate power relations that are likely to develop between a demanding male and a cunning female.
Mary Wollstonecraft takes the discussion in a new direction, arguing that in order to become full citizens women must lose their financial and social dependence on men, while John Stuart Mill argues that the fact of such dependence means that no one knows woman's true nature: that is, how they would act if they were not bowed into submission. Mill agrees with Plato that women should be encouraged to compete with men. He is less convinced, though, that they will generally tend to lose out in competition.
The trend of the thought of Wollstonecraft and Mill is to argue that the apparent differences between men and women are much less significant than is commonly believed. Interestingly, though, recent feminist theory quite often attempts to demonstrate that there are some very important sexual differences that can play a role in political theory, and perhaps even political practice. Carol Gilligan argues that men and women often exhibit different patterns of moral reasoning, and this colours their perception of the world. Alison Jaggar takes this a step further, claiming that women's oppression gives them a more insightful standpoint from which to view society. Where men and women's perceptions of society differ, she claims, those of women are to be preferred.

I.a. The Natural State of Mankind

ARISTOTLE
The State Exists by Nature

Now in this as in other fields we shall get the best view of things if we look at their natural growth from their beginnings. First, those which are incapable of existing without each other must unite as a pair. For example, (a) male and female, for breeding (and this not from choice; rather, as in the other animals too and in plants, the urge to leave behind another such as one is oneself is natural); (b) that which naturally rules and that which is ruled, for preservation. For that which can use its intellect to look ahead is by nature ruler and by nature master, while that which has the bodily strength to labour is ruled, and is by nature a slave. Hence master and slave benefit from the same thing. So it is by nature that a distinction has been made between female and slave. For nature produces nothing skimpily (like the Delphic knife that smiths make), but one thing for one purpose; for every tool will be made best if it subserves not many tasks but one. Non-Greeks, however, assign to female and slave the same status. This is because they do not have that which naturally rules: their association comes to be that of a male slave and a female slave. Hence, as the poets say, 'it is proper that Greeks should rule non-Greeks', on the assumption that non-Greek and slave are by nature identical. Thus it was from these two associations that a household first arose, and Hesiod was right in his poetry when he said, 'first of all a house and a wife and an ox to draw the plough.' (The ox is the poor man's slave.) So the association formed according to nature for the satisfaction of the purposes of every day is a house- hold, the members of which Charondas calls 'bread-fellows', and Epimenides the Cretan 'stable-companions'. The first association, from several households, for the satisfaction of other than daily purposes, is a village. The village seems to be by nature in the highest degree, as a colony of a household-children and grandchildren, whom some people call 'homogalactic'. This is why states were at first ruled by kings (as are the nations to this day): they were formed from persons who were under kingly rule. For every household is under the kingly rule of its most senior member; so too the colonies, because of the kinship. This is what is mentioned in Homer: 'Each one lays down the law to children and wives.' For they were scattered; and that is how they dwelt in ancient times. For this reason the gods too are said by everyone to be governed by a king-namely because men themselves were originally ruled by kings and some are so still. Men model the gods' forms on themselves, and similarly their way of life too. The complete association, from several villages, is the state, which at once reaches the limit of total self-sufficiency, so to say. Whereas it comes into existence for the sake of life, it exists for the sake of the good life. Therefore every state exists by nature, since the first associations did too. For this association is their end, and nature is an end; for whatever each thing is in character when its coming into existence has been completed, that is what we call the nature of each thing-of a man, for instance, or a horse or a house. Moreover the aim, i.e. the end, is best; and self-sufficiency is 'both end and best.
These considerations make it clear, then, that the state is one of those things which exist by nature, and that man is by nature an animal fit for a state. Anyone who by his nature and not by ill-Iuck has no state is either a wretch or superhuman; he is also like the man condemned by Homer as having 'no brotherhood, no law, no hearth'; for he is at once such by nature and keen to go to war, being isolated like a piece in a game of pettoi.
[From Politics Books 1 and 11, trans. with a commentary by Trevori. Saunders (Clarendon Press, Oxford,.1995),2-3.]

THOMAS HOBBES
The Misery of the Natural Condition of Mankind

Nature hath made men so equal, in the faculties of the body, and mind; as that though there be found one man sometimes manifestly stronger in body, or of quicker mind than another; yet when all is reckoned together, the difference between man, and man, is not so considerable, as that one man can thereupon claim to himself any benefit, to which another may not pretend, as well as he. For as to the strength of body, the weakest has strength enough to kin the strongest, either by secret machination, or by confederacy with others, that are in the same danger with himself
And as to the faculties of the mind, (setting aside the arts grounded upon words, and especially that skill of proceeding upon general, and infallible rules, called science; which very few have, and but in few things; as being not a native faculty, born with us; nor attained (as prudence,) while we took after somewhat else,) I find yet a greater equality amongst men, than that of strength. For prudence, is but experience; which equal time, equally bestows on an men, in those things they equally apply themselves unto. That which may perhaps make such equality incredible, is but a vain conceit of one's own wisdom, which almost all men think they have in a greater degree, than the vulgar; that is, than all men but themselves, and a few others, whom by fame, or for concurring with them- selves, they approve. For such is the nature of men, that howsoever they may ac- knowledge many others to be more witty, or more eloquent, or more learned; yet they will hardly believe there be many so wise as themselves; for they see their own wit at hand, and other men's at a distance. But this proveth rather that men are in that point equal, than unequal. For there is not ordinarily a greater sign of the equal distribution of any thing, than that every man is contented with his share.
From this equality of ability, ariseth equality of hope in the attaining of our ends. And therefore if any two men desire the same thing, which nevertheless they cannot both enjoy, they become enemies; and in the way to their end, (which is principally their own conservation, and sometimes their delectation only,) endeavour to destroy, or subdue one another. And from hence it comes to pass, that where an invader hath no more to fear, than another man's single power; if one plant, sow, build, or possess a convenient seat, others may probably be expected to come prepared with forces united, to dispossess, and deprive him, not only of the fruit of his labour, but also of his life, or liberty. And the invader again is in the like danger of another.
And from this diffidence of one another, there is no way for any man to se- cure himself, so reasonable, as anticipation; that is, by force, or wiles, to master the persons of all men he can, so long, till he see no other power great enough to endanger him: and this is no more than his own conservation requireth, and is generally allowed. Also because there be some, that taking pleasure in contemplating their own power in the acts of conquest, which they pursue farther than their security requires; if others, that otherwise would be glad to be at ease within modest bounds, should not by invasion increase their power, they would not be able, long time, by standing only on their defence, to subsist. And by consequence, such augmentation of dominion over men, being necessary to a man's conservation, it ought to be allowed him.
Again, men have no pleasure, (but on the contrary a great deal of grief) in keeping company, where there is no power able to over-awe them all. For every man looketh that his companion should value him, at the same rate he sets upon himself- and upon all signs of contempt, or undervaluing, naturally endeavours, as far as he dares (which amongst them that have no common power to keep them quiet, is far enough to make them destroy each other,) to extort a greater value from his contemners, by damage; and from others, by the example.
So that in the nature of man, we find three principal causes of quarrel. First, competition; secondly, diffidence; thirdly, glory.
The first, maketh men invade for gain; the second, for safety; and the third, for reputation. The first use violence, to make themselves masters of other men's persons, wives, children, and cattle; the second, to defend them; the third, for trifles, as a word, a smile, a different opinion, and any other sign of under- value, either direct in their persons, or by reflection in their kindred, their friends, their nation, their profession, or their name.
Hereby it is manifest, that during the time men live without a common power to keep them all in awe, they are in that condition which is called war; and such a war, as is of every man, against every man. For WAR, consisteth not in battle only, or the act of fighting; but in a tract of time, wherein the will to contend by battle is sufficiently known: and therefore the notion of time, is to be considered in the nature of war; as it is in the nature of weather. For as the nature of foul weather, lieth not in a shower or two of rain; but in an inclination thereto of many days together: so the nature of war, consisteth not in actual fighting; but in the known disposition thereto, during an the time there is no assurance to the contrary. All other time is PEACE.
Whatsoever therefore is consequent to a time of war, where every man is enemy to every man; the same is consequent to the time, wherein men live without other security, than what their own strength, and their own invention shall furnish them withal. In such condition, there is no place for industry; be- cause the fruit thereof is uncertain: and consequently no culture of the earth; no navigation, nor use of the commodities that may be imported by sea; no commodious building; no instruments of moving, and removing such things as require much force; no knowledge of the face of the earth; no account of time; no arts; no letters; no society; and which is worst of all, continual fear, and danger of violent death; and the life of man, solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short.
It may seem strange to some man, that has not well weighed these things; that nature should thus dissociate, and render men apt to invade, and destroy one another: and he may therefore, not trusting to this inference, made from the passions, desire perhaps to have the same confirmed by experience. Let him therefore consider with himself, when taking a journey, he arms himself, and seeks to go well accompanied; when going to sleep, he locks his doors; when even in his house he locks his chests; and this when he knows there be laws, and public officers, armed, to revenge all injuries shall be done him; what opinion he has of his fellow-subjects, when he rides armed; of his fellow citizens, when he locks his doors; and of his children, and servants, when he locks his chests. Does he not there as much accuse mankind by his actions, as I do by my words? But neither of us accuse man's nature in it. The desires, and other passions of man, are in themselves no sin. No more are the actions, that proceed from those passions, till they know a law that forbids them: which till laws be made they can- not know: nor can any law be made, till they have agreed upon the person that shall make it.
It may peradventure be thought, there was never such a time, nor condition of war as this; and I believe it was never generally so, over all the world: but there are many places, where they live so now. For the savage people in many places of America, except the government of small families, the concord whereof dependeth on natural lust, have no government at all; and five at this day in that brutish manner, as I said before. Howsoever, it may be perceived what manner of life there would be, where there were no common power to fear; by the manner of life, which men that have formerly lived under a peaceful government, use to degenerate into, in a civil war. But though there had never been any time, wherein particular men were in a condition of war one against another; yet in all times, kings, and persons of sovereign authority, because of their independency, are in continual jealousies, and in the state and posture of gladiators; having their weapons pointing, and their eyes fixed on one another; that is, their forts, garrisons, and guns upon the frontiers of their kingdoms; and continual spies upon their neighbours; which is a posture of war. But because they uphold thereby, the industry of their subjects; there does not follow from it, that misery, which accompanies the liberty of particular men.
To this war of every man against every man, this also is consequent; that nothing can be unjust. The notions of right and wrong, justice and injustice have there no place. Where there is no common power, there is no law: where no law, no injustice. Force, and fraud, are in war the two cardinal virtues justice, and injustice are none of the faculties neither of the body, nor mind. If they were, they might be in a man that were alone in the world, as well as his senses, and passions. They are qualities, that relate to men in society, not in solitude. It is consequent also to the same condition, that there be no propriety, no dominion, no mine and thine distinct; but only that to be every man's, that he can get; and for so long, as he can keep it. And thus much for the iu condition, which man by mere nature is actually placed in; though with a possibility to come out of it, consisting partly in the passions, partly in his reason.
The passions that incline men to peace, are fear of death; desire of such things as are necessary to commodious living; and a hope by their industry to obtain them. And reason suggesteth convenient articles of peace, upon which men may be drawn to agreement. These articles, are they, which otherwise are called the Laws of Nature.
[From Leviathan, ed. with introd. byj. C. A. Gaskin (Oxford University Press, Oxford, 1996),82--6. First Published 1651.)

JOHN LOCKE
The State of Nature and the State of War

To understand political power aright, and derive it from its original, we must consider what estate all men are naturally in, and that is, a state of perfect freedom to order their actions, and dispose of their possessions and persons as they think fit, within the bounds of the law of Nature, without asking leave or de- pending upon the will of any other man.
A state also of equality, wherein all the power and jurisdiction is reciprocal, no one having more than another, there being nothing more evident than that creatures of the same species and rank, promiscuously born to all the same ad- vantages of Nature, and the use of the same faculties, should also be equal one amongst another, without subordination or subjection, unless the lord and master of them all should, by any manifest declaration of his will, set one above another, and confer on him, by an evident and clear appointment, an un- doubted right to dominion and sovereignty. […]
But though this be a state of liberty, yet it is not a state of licence; though man in that state have an uncontrollable liberty to dispose of his person or possessions, yet he has not liberty to destroy himself, or so much as any creature in his possession, but where some nobler use than its bare preservation calls for it. The state of Nature has a law of Nature to govern it, which obliges every one, and reason, which is that law, teaches all mankind who will but consult it, that being all equal and independent, no one ought to harm another in his life, health, liberty or possessions; for men being all the workmanship of one omnipotent and infinitely wise Maker; all the servants of one sovereign Master, sent into the world by His order and about His business; they are His property, whose workmanship they are made to last during His, not one another's plea- sure. And, being furnished with like faculties, sharing all in one community of Nature, there cannot be supposed any such subordination among us that may authorise us to destroy one another, as if we were made for one another's uses, as the inferior ranks of creatures are for ours. Every one as he is bound to pre- serve himself, and not to quit his station wilfully, so by the like reason, when his own preservation comes not in competition, ought he as much as he can to pre- serve the rest of mankind, and not unless it be to do justice on an offender, take away or impair the life, or what tends to the preservation of the life, the liberty, health, limb, or goods of another.
And that all men may be restrained from invading others' rights, and from doing hurt to one another, and the law of Nature be observed, which willeth the peace and preservation of all mankind, the execution of the law of Nature is in that state put into every man's hands, whereby every one has a right to punish the transgressors of that law to such a degree as may hinder its violation. For the law of Nature would, as all other laws that concern men in this world, be in vain if there were nobody that in the state of Nature had a power to execute that law, and thereby preserve the innocent and restrain offenders; and if any one in the state of Nature may punish another for any evil he has done, every one may do so. For in that state of perfect equality, where naturally there is no superiority of jurisdiction of one over another, what any may do in prosecution of that law, every one must needs have a right to do.
And thus, in the state of Nature, one man comes by a power over another, but yet no absolute or arbitrary power to use a criminal, when he has got him in his hands, according to the passionate heats or boundless extravagancy of his own will, but only to retribute to him so far as calm reason and conscience dictate, what is proportionate to his transgression, which is so much as may serve for reparation and restraint. For these two are the only reasons why one man may lawfully do harm to another, which is that we call punishment. In transgressing the law of Nature, the offender declares himself to live by another rule than that of reason and common equity, which is that measure God has set to the actions of men for their mutual security, and so he becomes dangerous to mankind; the tie which is to secure them from injury and violence being slighted and broken by him, which being a trespass against the whole species, and the peace and safety of it, provided for by the law of Nature, every man upon this score, by the right he hath to preserve mankind in general, may restrain, or where it is necessary, destroy things noxious to them, and so may bring such evil on any one who hath transgressed that law, as may make him repent the doing of it, and thereby deter him, and, by his example, others from doing the like mischief. And in this case, and upon this ground, every man hath a right to punish the offender, and be executioner of the law of Nature.
I doubt not but this will seem a very strange doctrine to some men; but be- fore they condemn it, I desire them to resolve me by what right any prince or state can put to death or punish an alien for any crime he commits in their country? It is certain their laws, by virtue of any sanction they receive from the promulgated will of the legislature, reach not a stranger. They speak not to him, nor, if they did, is he bound to hearken to them. The legislative authority by which they are in force over the subjects of that commonwealth hath no power over him. Those who have the supreme power of making laws in England, France, or Holland are, to an Indian, but like the rest of the world-men with- out authority. And therefore, if by the law of Nature every man hath not a power to punish offences against it, as he soberly judges the case to require, I see not how the magistrates of any community can punish an alien of another country, since, in reference to him, they can have no more power than what every man naturally may have over another. […]
From these two distinct rights (the one of punishing the crime, for restraint and preventing the like offence, which right of punishing is in everybody, the other of taking reparation, which belongs only to the injured party) comes it to pass that the magistrate, who by being magistrate hath the common right of punishing put into his hands, can often, where the public good demands not the execution of the law, remit the punishment of criminal offences by his own authority, but yet cannot remit the satisfaction due to any private man for the damage he has received. That he who hath suffered the damage has a right to demand in his own name, and he alone can remit. The damnified person has this power of appropriating to himself the goods or service of the offender by right of self-preservation, as every man has a power to punish the crime to prevent its being committed again, by the right he has of preserving all mankind, and doing all reasonable things he can in order to that end. And thus it is that every man in the state of Nature has a power to kill a murderer, both to deter others from doing the like injury (which no reparation can compensate) by the ex- ample of the punishment that attends it from everybody, and also to secure men from the attempts of a criminal who, having renounced reason, the common rule and measure God hath given to mankind, hath, by the unjust violence and slaughter he hath committed upon one, declared war against all mankind, and therefore may be destroyed as a hon or a tiger, one of those wild savage beasts with whom men can have no society nor security. And upon this is grounded that great law of Nature, 'Whoso sheddeth man's blood, by man shall his blood be shed.' And Cain was so fully convinced that every one had a right to destroy such a criminal, that, after the murder of his brother, he cries out, 'Every one that findeth me shall slay me,' so plain was it writ in the hearts of all mankind.
By the same reason may a man in the state of Nature punish the lesser breaches of that law, it will, perhaps, be demanded, with death? I answer: Each transgression may be punished to that degree, and with so much severity, as will suffice to make it an ill bargain to the offender, give him cause to repent, and terrify others from doing the like. Every offence that can be committed in the state of Nature may, in the state of Nature, be also punished equally, and as far forth, as it may, in a commonwealth. For though it would be beside my present purpose to enter here into the particulars of the law of Nature, or its measures of punishment, yet it is certain there is such a law, and that too as intelligible and plain to a rational creature and a studier of that law as the posi- tive laws of commonwealths, nay, possibly plainer; as much as reason is easier to be understood than the fancies and intricate contrivances of men, following contrary and hidden interests put into words; for truly so are a great part of the municipal laws of countries, which are only so far right as they are founded on the law of Nature, by which they are to be regulated and interpreted.
To this strange doctrine-viz., That in the state of Nature every one has the executive power of the law of Nature-I doubt not but it will be objected that it is unreasonable for men to be judges in their own cases, that self-love will make men partial to themselves and their friends; and, on the other side, ill- nature, passion, and revenge will carry them too far in punishing others, and hence nothing but confusion and disorder will follow, and that therefore God hath certainly appointed government to restrain the partiality and violence of men. I easily grant that civil government is the proper remedy for the inconveniences of the state of Nature, which must certainly be great where men may be judges in their own case, since it is easy to be imagined that he who was so unjust as to do his brother an injury will scarce be so just as to condemn him- self for it. But I shall desire those who make this objection to remember that absolute monarchs are but men; and if government is to be the remedy of those evils which necessarily follow from men being judges in their own cases, and the state of Nature is therefore not to be endured, I desire to know what kind of government that is, and how much better it is than the state of Nature, where one man commanding a multitude has the liberty to be judge in his own case, and may do to all his subjects whatever he pleases without the least question or control of those who execute his pleasure? And in whatsoever he doth, whether led by reason, mistake, or passion, must be submitted to? Which men in the state of Nature are not bound to do one to another. And if he that judges, judges amiss in his own or any other case, he is answerable for it to the rest of mankind.
It is often asked as a mighty objection, where are, or ever were, there any men in such a state of Nature? To which it may suffice as an answer at pre- sent, that since all princes and rulers of 'independent' governments all through the world are in a state of Nature, it is plain the world never was, nor never will be, without numbers of men in that state. I have named all governors of 'independent' communities, whether they are, or are not, in league with others; for it is not every compact that puts an end to the state of Nature between men, but only this one of agreeing together mutually to enter into one community, and make one body politic; other promises and compacts men may make one with another, and yet still be in the state of Nature. The promises and bargains for truck, etc., between the two men in Soldania, in or between a Swiss and an Indian, in the woods of America, are binding to them, though they are perfectly in a state of Nature in reference to one an- other for truth, and keeping of faith belongs to men as men, and not as members of society. […]
And here we have the plain difference between the state of Nature and the state of war, which however some men have confounded, are as far distant as a state of peace, goodwill, mutual assistance, and preservation; and a state of enmity, malice, violence and mutual destruction are one from another. Men living together according to reason without a common superior on earth, with authority to judge between them, is properly the state of Nature. But force, or a declared design of force upon the person of another, where there is no common superior on earth to appeal to for relief, is the state of war; and it is the want of such an appeal gives a man the right of war even against an aggressor, though he be in society and a fellow-subject.
[From Two Treatises of Civil Government, ed. W S. Carpenter (J. M. Dent, London, 1924
(1962 repr.)), 118-21, 123-4, 126. First published 1690.]

BARON DE MONTESQUIEU
Fear and Peace

Man, as a physical being, is like other bodies governed by invariable laws. As an intelligent being, he incessantly transgresses the laws established by God, and changes those of his own instituting. He is left to his private direction, though a limited being, and subject, like all finite intelligences, to ignorance and error: even his imperfect knowledge he loses; and as a sensible creature, he is hurried away by a thousand impetuous passions. Such a being might every instant forget his Creator; God has therefore reminded him of his duty by the laws of religion. Such a being is liable every moment to forget himself, philosophy has provided against this by the laws of morality. Formed to live in society, he might forget his fellow-creatures; legislators have, therefore, by political and civil laws, confines him to his duty.
Antecedent to the above-mentioned laws are those of nature, so called, because they derive their force entirely from our frame and existence. in order tc have a perfect knowledge of these laws, we must consider man before the establishment of society: the laws received in such a state would be those of nature.
The law which, impressing on our minds the idea of a Creator, inclines us towards Him, is the first in importance, though not in order, of natural laws. Mar in a state of nature would have the faculty of knowing, before he had acquired any knowledge. Plain it is that his first ideas would not be of a speculative na- ture; he would think of the preservation of his being, before he would investigate its origin. Such a man would feel nothing in himself at first but impotency and weakness; his fears and apprehensions would be excessive; as appears from instances (were there any necessity of proving it) of savages found in forests: trembling at the motion of a leaf, and flying from every shadow.
In this state every man, instead of being sensible of his equality, would fancy himself inferior. There would, therefore, be no danger of their attacking one another; peace would be the first law of nature.
The natural impulse or desire which Hobbes attributes to mankind of subduing one another is far from being well founded. The idea of empire and do- minion is so complex, and depends on so many other notions, that it could never be the first which occurred to the human understanding.
Hobbes inquires, 'For what reason go men armed, and have locks and keys tc fasten their doors, if they be not naturally in a state of war?' But is it not obvious that he attributes to mankind before the establishment of society what can hap. pen but in consequence of this establishment, which furnishes them with motives for hostile attacks and self-defence?
Next to a sense of his weakness man would soon find that of his wants Hence another law of nature would prompt him to seek for nourishment.
Fear, I have observed, would induce men to shun one another; but the mark., of this fear being reciprocal, would soon engage them to associate. Besides, this association would quickly follow from the very pleasure one animal feels at the approach of another of the same species. Again, the attraction arising from the difference of sexes would enhance this pleasure, and the natural inclination they have for each other would form a third law.
Besides the sense or instinct which man possesses in common with brutes, he has the advantage of acquired knowledge; and thence arises a second tic, which. brutes have not. Mankind have, therefore, a new motive of uniting; and a fourth law of nature results from the desire of living in society. As soon as man enters into a state of society he loses the sense of his weak- ness; equality ceases, and then commences the state of war.
[From Charles Louis de Secondat, Baron de montesquieu, The Spirit of the Laws, trans. Thomas Nugent, with an introduction by Franz Neumann (Hafner Press, New York, Collier Macmillan, London, 1949),3-5. First published 1748.]

JEAN-JACQUES ROUSSEAU
The Noble Savage

The philosophers, who have inquired into the foundations of society, have all felt the necessity of going back to a state of nature; but not one of them has got there. Some of them have not hesitated to ascribe to man, in such a state, the idea of just and unjust, without troubling themselves to show that he must be possessed of such an idea, or that it could be of any use to him. [...] We should beware, therefore, of confounding the savage man with the men we have daily before our eyes. Nature treats all the animals left to her care with a predilection that seems to show how jealous she is of that right. The horse, the cat, the bull, and even the ass are generally of greater stature, and always more robust, and have more vigour, strength, and courage, when they run wild in the forests than when bred in the stall. By becoming domesticated, they lose half these advantages; and it seems as if all our care to feed and treat them well serves only to deprave them. it is thus with man also: as he becomes sociable and a slave, he grows weak, timid, and servile; his effeminate way of life totally enervates his strength and courage. To this it may be added that there is still a greater difference between savage and civilized man than between wild and tame beasts; for men and brutes having been treated alike by nature, the several conveniences in which men indulge themselves still more than they do their beasts, are so many additional causes of their deeper degeneracy. It is not therefore so great a misfortunate to these primitive men, nor so great an obstacle to their preservation, that they go naked, have no dwellings, and lack all the superfluities which we think so necessary if their skins are not covered with hair, they have no need of such covering in warm climates; and, in cold countries, they soon learn to appropriate the skins of the beasts they have overcome. If they have but two legs to run with, they have two arms to de- fend themselves with, and provide for their wants. Their children are slowly and with difficulty taught to walk; but their mothers are able to carry them with ease; an advantage which other animals lack, as the mother, if pursued, is forced either to abandon her young, or to regulate her pace by theirs. Unless, in short, we suppose a singular and fortuitous concurrence of circumstances of which I shall speak later, and which could well never come about, it is plain in every state of the case, that the man who first made himself clothes or dwelling was furnishing himself with things not at all necessary; for he had till then done without them, and there is no reason why he should not have been able to put up in manhood with the same kind of life as had been his in infancy.

Whatever moralists may hold, the human understanding is greatly indebted to the passions, which, it is universally allowed, are also much indebted to the understanding. It is by the activity of the passions that our reason is improved; for we desire knowledge only because we wish to enjoy; and it is impossible to conceive any reason why a person who has neither fears nor desires should give himself the trouble of reasoning. The passions, again, originate in our wants, and their progress depends on that of our knowledge; for we cannot desire or fear anything, except from the idea we have of it, or from the simple impulse of nature. Now savage man, being destitute of every species of enlightenment, can have no passions save those of the latter kind: his desires never go beyond his physical wants. The only goods he recognizes in the universe are food, a fe- male, and sleep: the only evils he fears are pain and hunger. I say pain, and not death: for no animal can know what it is to die; the knowledge of death and its terrors being one of the first acquisitions made by man in departing from an animal state. [...]
it appears, at first view, that men in a state of nature, having no moral relations or determinate obligations one with another, could not be either good or bad, virtuous or vicious; unless we take these terms in a physical sense, and call, in an individual, those qualities vices which may be injurious to his preservation, and those virtues which contribute to it; in which case, he would have to be accounted most virtuous, who put least check on the pure impulses of nature. But without deviating from the ordinary sense of the words, it will be proper to suspend the judgment we might be led to form on such a state, and be on our guard against our prejudices, till we have weighted the matter in the scales of impartiality, and seen whether virtues or vices preponderate among civilized men: and whether their virtues do them more good than their vices do harm; till we have discovered whether the progress of the sciences sufficiently indemnifies them for the mischiefs they do one another, in proportion as they are better informed of the good they ought to do; or whether they would not be, on the whole, in a much happier condition if they had nothing to fear or to hope from any one, than as they are, subjected to universal dependence, and obliged to take everything from those who engage to give them nothing in re- turn.
Above all, let us not conclude, with Hobbes, that because man has no idea of goodness, he must be naturally wicked; that he is vicious because he does not know virtue; that he always refuses to do his fellow-creatures services which he does not think they have a right to demand; or that by virtue of the right he justly claims to all he needs, he foolishly imagines himself the sole proprietor of the whole universe. Hobbes had seen clearly the defects of all the modern definitions of natural right: but the consequences which he deduces from his own show that he understands it in an equally false sense. In reasoning on the principles he lays down, he ought to have said that the state of nature, being that in which the care for our own preservation is the least prejudicial to that of others, was consequently the best calculated to promote peace, and the most suitable for mankind. He does say the exact opposite, in consequence of having improperly admitted, as a part of savage man's care for self-preservation, the gratification of a multitude of passions which are the work of society, and have made laws necessary. A bad man, he says, is a robust child. But it remains to be proved whether man in a state of nature is this robust child: and, should we grant that he is, what would he infer? Why truly, that if this man, when robust and strong, were dependent on others as he is when feeble, there is no extravagance he would not be guilty of, that he would beat his mother when she was too slow in giving him her breast; that he would strangle one of his younger brothers, if he should be troublesome to him, or bite the leg of another, if he put him to any inconvenience. But that man in the state of nature is both strong and dependent involves two contrary suppositions. Man is weak when he is dependent, and is his own master before he comes to be strong. Hobbes did not reflect that the same cause, which prevents a savage from making use of his reason, as our jurists hold, prevents him also from abusing his faculties, as Hobbes himself allows; so that it may be justly said that savages are not bad merely because they do not know what it is to be good: for it is neither the development of the understanding nor the restraint of law that hinders them from doing in; but the peacefulness of their passions, and their ignorance of vice: tanto plus in illis projicit vitiorum igno-ratio, quam in his cognitio virtutis. There is another principle which has escaped Hobbes; which, having been bestowed on mankind, to moderate, on certain occasions, the impetuosity of amour-prom, or, before its birth, the desire of self-preservation, tempers the ardour with which he pursues his own welfare, by an innate repugnance at seeing a fellow-creature suffer. I think I need not fear contradiction in holding man to be possessed of the only natural virtue, which could not be denied him by the most violent detractor of human virtue. I am speaking of compassion, which is a disposition suitable to creatures so weak and subject to so many evils as we certainly are: by so much the more universal and useful to mankind, as it comes before any kind of reflection; and at the same time so natural, that the very brutes themselves sometimes give evident proofs of it. Not to mention the tenderness of mothers for their offspring and the perils they en- counter to save them from danger, it is well known that horses show a reluctance to trample on living bodies. One animal never passes by the dead body of another of its species without disquiet: some even give their fellows a sort of burial; while the mournful lowings of the cattle when they enter the slaughter-house show the impressions made on them by the horrible spectacle which meets them. […]
Such is the pure emotion of nature, prior to all kinds of reflection! Such is the force of natural compassion, which the greatest depravity of morals has as yet hardly been able to destroy! […]
Let us conclude then that man in a state of nature, wandering up and down the forests, without industry, without speech, and without home, an equal stranger to war and to all ties, neither standing in need of his fellow-creatures nor having any desire to hurt them, and perhaps even not distinguishing them one from another; let us conclude that, being self-sufficient and subject to so few passions, he could have no feelings or knowledge but such as befitted his situation; that he felt only his actual necessities, and disregarded everything he did not think himself immediately concerned to notice, and that his understanding made no greater progress than his vanity. if by accident he made any discovery, he was the less able to communicate it to others, as he did not know even his own children. Every art would necessarily perish with its inventor, where there was no kind of education among men, and generations succeeded generations without the least advance; when, all setting out from the same point, centuries must have elapsed in the barbarism of the first ages; when the race was already old, and man remained a child.
[From A Discourse on the Origin of Inequality, in The Social Contract and Discourses, trans. and introd. G. D. H. Cole (J. M. Dent, London, 1973), 50, 57-8, 61, 7x-4,79-80. First published 1755.]

ROBERT OWEN
Man's Character is Formed for Him

From the earliest ages it has been the practice of the world to act on the suppo- sition that each individual man forms his own character, and that therefore he is accountable for all his sentiments and habits, and consequently merits reward for some and punishment for others. Every system which has been established among men has been founded on these erroneous principles. When, however, they shall be brought to the test of fair examination, they will be found not only unsupported, but in direct opposition to all experience, and to the evidence of our senses.
This is not a slight mistake, which involves only trivial consequences; it is a fundamental error of the highest possible magnitude, it enters into all our pro- ceedings regarding man from his infancy; and it will be found to be the true and sole origin of evil. It generates and perpetuates ignorance, hatred and revenge, where, without such error, only intelligence, confidence, and kindness would exist. it has hitherto been the Evil Genius of the world. It severs man from man throughout the various regions of the earth; and it makes enen-ties of those who, but for this gross error, would have enjoyed each other's kind offices and sincere friendship. It is, in short, an error which carries misery in all its conse- quences.
This error cannot much longer exist; for every day will make it more evident that the character of man is, without a single exception, alwaysformedfor him; and that it may be, and is, chiefly created by his predecessors that they give him, or may give him, his ideas and habits, which are the powers that govern and direct his conduct. Man, therefore, never did, nor is it possible that he ever can, form his own character.
The knowledge of this important fact has not been derived from any of the wild and heated speculations of an ardent and ungoverned imagination; on the contrary, it proceeds from a long and patient study of the theory and practice of human nature, under many varied circumstances; and it will be found to be a deduction drawn from such a multiplicity of facts, as to afford the most com- plete demonstration.
Every society which now exists, as well as every society history records, has been formed and governed on a belief in the notions, assumed asfirstprinciples:
First-That it is in the power of every individual to form his own character. Hence the various systems called by the name of religion, codes of law and
punishments. Hence also the angry passions entertained by individuals and na- tions towards each other.
Second-That the affections are at the command of the individual.
Hence insincerity and degradation of character. Hence the miseries of do- mestic life, and more than one half of the crimes of mankind.
Third-That it is necessary that a large portion of mankind should exist in ig- norance and poverty, in order to secure the remaining part such a degree of hap- piness as they now enjoy.
Hence a system of counteraction in the pursuits of man, a general opposi- tion among individuals to the interests of each other, ind the necessary effects of such a system-ignorance, poverty, and vice.
Facts prove, however-
First-that character is universally formedfor, and not by the individual. Second-That any habits and sentiments may be given to mankind. Third-That the affections are not under the control of the individual. Fourth-That every individual may be trained to produce far more than he
can consume, while there is a sufficiency of soil left for him to cultivate. Fifth-That nature has provided means by which populations may be at all
times maintained in the proper state to give the greatest happiness to every in- dividual, without one check of vice or misery.
Sixth-That any community may be arranged, on a due combination of the foregoing principles, in such a manner, as not only to withdraw vice, poverty, and, in a great degree, misery, from the world; but also to place every individual under such circumstances in which he shall enjoy more permanent happiness than can be given to any individual under the principles which have hitherto reg- ulated society.
Seventh-That all the assumed fundamental principles on which society has hitherto been founded are erroneous, and may be demonstrated to be contrary to fact. And-
Eighth-That the change which would follow the abandonment of these c roneous maxims which bring misery to the world, and the adoption of princ ples of truth, unfolding a system which shall remove and for ever exclude th misery, may be effected without the slightest injury to any human being. E. . .-
How much longer shall we continue to allow generation after generation I be taught crime from their infancy, and when so taught, hunt them like beas of the forests, until they are entangled beyond escape in the toils and nets of tl law? When, if the circumstances of those poor unpitied sufferers had been ri versed with those who are even surrounded with the pomp and dignity of ju tice, these latter would have been at the bar of the culprit, and the former woul have been at the judgement seat.
Had the presentjudges of these realms been born and educated among th poor and profligate of St Giles, or some sin-fflar situation, is it not certain, ina@ much as they possess native energies and abilities, that ere this they would ha'V been at the head of their then profession, and, in consequence of that superior ity and profir-iency, would already have suffered imprisonment, transportatio or death? Can we for a moment hesitate to decide, that if some of those me: whom the laws dispensed by the present judges have doomed to suffer capita punishments, had been born, trained and circumstanced as these judges wer born, trained and circumstanced, that some of those who had so suffered woul, have been the identical individuals who would have passed the same awful ser tences on the present highly esteemed dignitaries of the law. [ ...)
I was greatly averse to punishments, and much preferred as far as possibl simple means to render punishment unnecessary, as it is always unjust to the in dividual. To prevent punishment by the overlooker and masters of department who had been accustomed to whip and strap the young people, and who oftei from ignorance abused their authority, I invented what the people soon called telegraph.
This consisted of a four-sided piece of wood, about two inches long, and oni broad, each side coloured-one side black, another blue, the third yellow, an( the fourth white, tapered at the top, and finished with wire eyes, to hang upon; hook with either side to the front. One of these was suspended in a conspicuous Place near to each of the persons employed, and the colour at the front told th( conduct of the individual during the preceding day, to four degrees by compar ison. Bad, denoted by black, indifferent by blue, good by yellow and excellent by white.
This was the preventer of punishment. There was no beating-no abusiv( language. I passed daily through all the rooms, and the workers observed me al. ways to look at these telegraphs-and when black I merely looked at the persor and then at the colour-but never said a word to one of them by way of blame And if any one thought the inferior colour was not deserved by him as given, ii was desired that complaint should be made to me. But this seldom occurred, Now this simple device and silent monitor began to show its effects upon the character of the workers. At first a large proportion daily were black and blue, few yellow and scarcely any white. Gradually the black were changed for blue, the blues for yellow, and the yellows for white. And for rnany years the perrna- nent daily conduct of a very large nurnber of those who were employed, de- served and had No. i placed as their character on the books of the establishment. Soon after the adoption of this telegraph I could at once see by the expression of the countenance what was the colour which was shown. As there were four colours there were four different expressions of countenance niost evident to rne as I passed along the roorns.
Never perhaps in the history of the hurnan race has so sirnple a device created in so short a period so inuch order, virtue, goodness, and happiness, out of so rnuch ignorance, error, and rnisery.

[Note by A. L. Morton: It is often said that in this, and other ways, Owen treated his work-people as if they were children. There is some truth in this, but it must be remembered that a large proportion of them were children. And it was al- ways with children that Owen was most successful.]
[Frorn A. L. Morton, The Life and Ideas of Robert Owen (International Publishers, New York, and Lawrence & Wishart, London, x962 and ig6g), 73-6, Si-2, 9". First published 1813, l8i6,1857.1

KARL MARX AND FRIEDRICH ENGELS
Man as a Productive Being

The premises from which we begin are not arbitrary ones, not dogmas, but real premises from which abstraction can only be made in the imagination. They are the real individuals, their activity and the material conditions under which they live, both those which they find already existing and those produced by their ac- tivity. These premises can thus be verified in a purely empirical way.
The first premise of all human history is, of course, the existence of living human individuals. Thus the first fact to be established is the physical Organisation of these individuals and their consequent relation to the rest of nature. Of course, we cannot here go either into the actual physical nature of man, or into the natural conditions in which man finds himself-geological, orohydrographical, climatic and so on. The writing of history must always set out from these natural bases and their modification in the course of history through the action of men.
Men can be distinguished from animals by consciousness, by religion or any- thing else you like. They themselves begin to distinguish themselves from ani- mals as soon as they begin to produce their means of subsistence, a step which is conditioned by their physical Organisation. By producing their means of subsis- tence men are indirectly producing their actual material life. The way in which men produce their means of subsistence depends first of all on the nature of the actual means of subsistence they find in existence and have to reproduce. This mode of production must not be considered simply as being the production of the physical existence of the individuals. Rather it is a definite form of activity of these individuals, a definite form of expressing their fife, a definite mode of life on their part. As individuals express their life, so they are. What they are, therefore, coincides with their production, both with what they produce and with how they produce. The nature of individuals thus de- pends on the material conditions determining their production. [...]
The fact is, therefore, that definite individuals who are productively active in a definite way enter into these definite social and political relations. Empirical observation must in each separate instance bring out empirically, and without any mystification and speculation, the connection of the social and political structure with production. The social structure and the State are continually evolving out of the He process of definite individuals, but of individuals, not as they may appear in their own or other people's imagination, but as they really are; i.e. as they operate, produce materially, and hence as they work under defi- nite material limits, presuppositions and conditions independent of their will. [...]
This method of approach is not devoid of premises. It starts out from the real premises and does not abandon them for a moment. its premises are men, not in any fantastic isolation and rigidity, but in their actual, empirically perceptible process of development under definite conditions. As soon as this active life- process is described, history ceases to be a collection of dead facts as it is with the empiticists (themselves still abstract), or an imagined activity of imagined subjects, as with the idealists.
Where speculation ends-in real life-there real, positive science begins: the representation of the practical activity, of the practical process of development of men. Empty talk about consciousness ceases, and real knowledge has to take its place. When reality is depicted, philosophy as an independent branch of knowledge loses its medium of existence. At the best its place can only be taken by a summing-up of the most general results, abstractions which arise from the observation of the historical development of men. Viewed apart from real his- tory, these abstractions have in themselves no value whatsoever. They can only serve to facilitate the arrangement of historical material, to indicate the se- quence of its separate strata. But they by no means afford a recipe or schema, as does philosophy, for neatly trimming the epochs of history. on the contrary, our difficulties begin only when we set about the observation and the arrange- ment-the real depiction-of our historical material, whether of a past epoch or of the present. The removal of these difficulties is governed by premises which it is quite impossible to state here, but which only the study of the actual Reprocess and the activity of the individuals of each epoch will make evident. […]
Language is as old as consciousness, language is practical consciousness that exists also for other men, and for that reason alone it really exists for me person- ally as well; language, like consciousness, only arises from the need, the neces- sity, of intercourse with other men. Where there exists a relationship, it exists for me: the animal does not enter into'relations'with anything, it does not enter into any relation at A. For the animal, its relation to others does not exist as a relation. Consciousness is, therefore, from the very beginning a social product, and re- mains so as long as men exist at all. Consciousness is at first, of course, merely consciousness concerning the immediate sensuous environment and conscious- ness of the limited connection with other persons and things outside the indi- vidual who is arowing self-conscious. At the same time it is consciousness of nature, which first appears to men as a completely alien, all-powerful and unas- sailable force, with which men's relations are purely animal and by which they are overawed like beasts; it is thus a purely animal consciousness of nature (nat- ural religion) just because nature is as yet hardly modified historically. (We see here immediately: this natural religion or this particular relation of men to na- ture is determined by the form of society and vice versa. Here, as everywhere, the identity of nature and man appears in such a way that the restricted relation of men to nature determines their restricted relation to one another, and their re- stricted relation to one another determines men's restricted relation to nature.) on the other hand, nian@s consciousness of the necessity of associating with the individuals around him is the beginning of the consciousness that he is living in society at all. This beginning is as animal as social life itself at this stage. It is mere herd-consciousness, and at this point man is only distinguished from sheep by the fact that with him consciousness takes the place of instinct or that his instinct is a conscious one. This sheep-like or tribal consciousness receives its further de- velopment and extension through increased productivity, the increase of needs, and, what is fundamental to both of these, the increase of population. With these there develops the division of tabour, which was originally nothing but the division of tabour in the sexual act, then that division of tabour which develops spontaneously or 'naturally' by virtue of natural predisposition (e.g. physical strength), needs, accidents, etc. etc.
[From TRe German Ideolog, ed. and introd. C. J. Arthur (Lawrence & Wishart, London, 1970),42,46-8,5-. Written i845-6.1

CHARLES DARWIN
Natural Selection

We have reason to believe that a change in the conditions of life, by specially acting on the reproductive system, causes or increases variability; and in the fore- going case the conditions of life are supposed to have undergone a change, and this would manifestly be favorable to natural selection, by giving a better chance of profitable variations occurring; and unless profitable variations do occur, natural selection can do nothing. Not that, as I believe, any extreme amount of variability is necessary; as man can certainly produce great results by adding up in any given direction mere individual differences, so could Nature, but far more easily, from having incomparably longer time at her disposal. Nor do I believe that any great physical change, as of climate, or any unusual degree of isolation to check immigration, is actually necessary to produce new and un- occupied places for natural selection to fill up by modifying and improving some of the varying inhabitants. For as all the inhabitants of each country are struggling together with nicely balanced forces, extremely slight modifications in the structure or habits of one inhabitant would often give it an advantage over others; and still further modifications of the same kind would often still further increase the advantage. No country can be named in which all the native inhabitants are now so perfectly adapted to each other and to the physical conditions under which they live, that none of them could anyhow be improved; for in all countries, the natives have been so far conquered by naturalized productions, that they have allowed foreigners to take firm possession of the land. And as foreigners have thus everywhere beaten some of the natives, we may safely conclude that the natives might have been modified with advantage, so as to have better resisted such intruders.
As man can produce and certainly has produced a great result by his methodical and unconscious means of selection, what may not Nature effect? Man can act only on external and visible characters: Nature cares nothing for appearances, except in so far as they may be useful to any being. She can act on every internal organ, on every shade of constitutional difference, on the whole machinery of life. Man selects only for his own good; Nature only for that of the being which she tends. Every selected character is fully exercised by her; and the being is placed under well-suited conditions of life. Man keeps the natives of many climates in the same country; he seldom exercises each selected character in some peculiar and fitting manner; he feeds a long and a short beaked pigeon on the same food; he does not exercise a long-backed or long-legged quadruped in any peculiar manner; he exposes sheep with long and short wool to the same climate. He does not allow the most vigorous males to struggle for the females. He does not rigidly destroy all inferior animals, but protects during each varying season, as far as lies in his power, all his productions. He often begins his se- lection by some half-monstrous form; or at least by some modification prominent enough to catch his eye, or to be plainly useful to him. Under nature, the slightest difference of structure or constitution may well turn the nicely- balanced scale in the struggle for He, and so be preserved. How fleeting are the wishes and efforts of man! how short his time! and consequently how poor win his products be, compared with those accumulated by Nature during whole geological periods. Can we wonder, then, that Nature's productions should be far 'truer' in character than man's productions; that they should be infinitely better adapted to the most complex conditions of life, and should plainly bear the stamp of far higher workmanship?
it may metaphorically be said that natural selection is daily and hourly scrutinising, throughout the world, every variation, even the slightest; rejecting that which is bad, preserving and adding up all that is good; silently and insensibly working, whenever and wherever opportunity offers, at the improvement of each organic being in relation to its organic and inorganic conditions of life. We see nothing of these slow changes in progress, until the hand of time has marked the long lapse of ages, and then so imperfect is our view into long past geological ages, that we only see that the forms of life are now different from what they formerly were.
[From The Origin of Species, ed. with introd. by Gillian Beer (Oxford University Press, Oxford, 1996),68-70. First published 1859.]

CHARLES DARWIN
The Advantage of Morality

It must not be forgotten that although a high standard of morality gives but a slight or no advantage to each individual man and his children over the other men of the same tribe, yet that an advancement in the standard of morality and an increase in the number of well-endowed men will certainly give an immense advantage to one tribe over another. There can be no doubt that a tribe including many members who, from possessing in a high degree the spirit of patriotism, fidelity, obedience, courage, and sympathy, were always ready to give aid to each other and to sacrifice themselves for the common good, would be victorious over most other tribes; and this would be natural selection.
[From The Descent of Man and Selection in Relation to Sex (John Murray, London, 1871), i 166.]

PETER KROPOTKIN
Mutual Aid

Happily enough, competition is not the rule either in the animal world or in mankind. It is limited among animals to exceptional periods, and natural selection finds better fields for its activity. Better conditions are created by the elimination of competition by means of mutual aid and mutual support. In the great struggle for life-for the greatest possible fullness and intensity of life with the least waste of energy-natural selection continually seeks out the ways precisely for avoiding competition as much as possible. The ants combine in nests and nations; they pile up their stores, they rear their cattle-and thus avoid com- petition; and natural selection picks out of the ants' family the species which know best how to avoid competition, with its unavoidably deleterious consequences. Most of our birds slowly move southwards as the winter comes, or gather in numberless societies and undertake long journeys-and thus avoid competition. Many rodents fall asleep when the time comes that competition should set in; while other rodents store food for the winter, and gather in large villages for obtaining the necessary protection when at work. The reindeer, when the lichens are dry in the interior of the continent, migrate towards the sea. Buffaloes cross an immense continent in order to find plenty of food. And the beavers, when they grow numerous on a river, divide into two parties, and go, the old ones down the river, and the young ones up the river-and avoid competition. And when animals can neither fall asleep, nor migrate, nor lay in stores, nor themselves grow their food like the ants, they do what the titmouse does, and what Wallace (Darwinism, ch. v.) has so charmingly described: they re- sort to new kinds of food-and thus, again, avoid competition.
'Don't compete!--competition is always injurious to the species, and you have plenty of resources to avoid it!' That is the tendency of nature, not always realized in full, but always present. That is the watchword which comes to us from the bush, the forest, the river, the ocean. 'Therefore combine-practise mutual aid! That is the surest means for giving to each and to all the greatest safety, the best guarantee of existence and progress, bodily, intellectual, and moral.' That is what Nature teaches us; and that is what all those animals which have attained the highest position in their respective classes have done. That is also what man-the most primitive man-has been doing; and that is why man has reached the position upon which we stand now […]
Though a good deal of warfare goes on between different classes of animals, or different species, or even different tribes of the same species, peace and mutual support are the rule within the tribe or the species; and that those species which best know how to combine, and to avoid competition, have the best chances of survival and of a further progressive development. They prosper, while the unsociable species decay.
It is evident that it would be quite contrary to all that we know of nature if men were an exception to so general a rule: if a creature so defenseless as man was at his beginnings should have found his protection and his way to progress, not in mutual support, like other animals, but in a reckless competition for personal advantages, with no regard to the interests of the species. To a mind accustomed to the idea of unity in nature, such a proposition appears utterly indefensible. And yet, improbable and unphilosophical as it is, it has never found a lack of supporters. There always were writers who took a pessimistic view of mankind. They knew it, more or less superficially, through their own limited experience; they knew of history what the annalists, always watchful of wars, cruelty, and oppression, told of it, and little more besides; and they concluded that mankind is nothing but a loose aggregation of beings, always ready to fight with each other, and only prevented from so doing by the intervention of some authority.
Hobbes took that position; and while some of his eighteenth-century fol- lowers endeavored to prove that at no epoch of its existence-not even in its most primitive condition-mankind lived in a state of perpetual warfare; that men have been sociable even in 'the state of nature,' and that want of know- ledge, rather than the natural bad inclinations of man, brought humanity to all the horrors of its early historical life,-his idea was, on the contrary, that the so-called 'state of nature' was nothing but a permanent fight between individuals, accidentally huddled together by the mere caprice of their bestial existence. True, that science has made some progress since Hobbes's time, and that we have safer ground to stand upon than the speculations of Hobbes or Rousseau. But the Hobbesian philosophy has plenty of admirers still; and we have had of late quite a school of writers who, taking possession of Darwin's terminology rather than of his leading ideas, made of it an argument in favour of Hobbes's views upon primitive man, and even succeeded in giving them a scientific appearance. Huxley, as is known, took the lead of that school, and in a paper written in 1888 he represented primitive men as a sort of tigers or lions, deprived of all ethical conceptions, fighting out the struggle for existence to its bitter end, and living a life of 'continue free fight'; to quote his own words-beyond the limited and temporary relations of the family, the Hobbesian war of each against all was the normal state of existence.'
it has been remarked more than once that the chief error of Hobbes, and the eighteenth-century philosophers as well, was to imagine that mankind began its life in the shape of small straggling families, something like the 'limited and temporary' families of the bigger carnivores, while in reality it is now positively known that such was not the case. Of course, we have no direct evidence as to the modes of life of the first man-like beings. We are not yet settled even as to the time of their first appearance, geologists being inclined at present to see their traces in the Pliocene, or even the Miocene, deposits of the Tertiary period. But we have the indirect method which permits us to throw some light even upon that remote antiquity. A most careful investigation into the social institutions of the lowest races has been carried on during the last forty years, and it has revealed among the present institutions of primitive folk some traces of still older institutions which have long disappeared, but nevertheless left un- mistakable traces of their previous existence. […] And that science has established beyond any doubt that mankind did not begin its life in the shape of small isolated families. Mankind, we find men living in societies-in tribes similar to those of the highest mammals; and an extremely slow and long evolution was required to bring these societies to the gentile, or clan organization, which, in its turn, had to undergo another, also very long evolution, before the first germs of family, polygamous or monogamous, could appear. Societies, bands, or tribes-not families-were thus the primitive form of organization of mankind and its earliest ancestors. That is what ethnology has come to after its painstaking researches. And in so doing it simply came to what might have been foreseen by the zoologist. None of the higher mammals, save a few carnivores and a few undoubtedly-decaying species of apes (orang-outangs and gorillas), live in small families, isolatedly straggling in the woods. All others live in societies. And Darwin so well understood that isolatedly-living apes never could have developed into man-like beings, that he was inclined to consider man as descended from some comparatively weak but social species, like the chimpanzee, rather than from some stronger but unsociable species, like the gorilla. Zoology and palaeo-ethnology are thus agreed in considering that the band, not the family, was the earliest form of social life. The first human societies simply were a further development of those societies which constitute the very essence of life of the higher animals.
[From Mutual Aid, introd. George Woodcock (Black Rose Books, Montreal, 1989), 74-80. First published 1910.]