Property Is Theft!

by Pierre-Joseph Proudhon

  The people, undoubtedly, cannot traverse this entire succession; if philosophy can be acquired only under such conditions, it is condemned without reprieve. Either democracy is only a word, and there is not, outside of the language of the Church, apart from feudality and of divine right, communion between men; or it is necessary here to change approaches. I want to say that, in agreement with popular reason, it is necessary to abandon the analytical and deductive method, glory of the School, and to replace it with a universalist and synthetic method, more in touch with the reason of the masses, which sees everything concretely and synthetically. I will explain.

  Since everything, in nature and in society, pivots on Justice, since it is centre, base, and summit, substance and form of every fact as well as any idea, it is obvious, a priori, that everything can be reduced directly to Justice, consequently that the true philosophical method consists in breaking all these patterns. In that sphere of the universal where we are going to move, and of which the centre is called Justice, harmony, equilibrium, balance, equality, all the graduations and specifications of school vanish. Little matter that we take our point of departure at such a meridian or such a parallel, at the equator or at the pole; that we begin with political economy rather than logic, with aesthetic or moral philosophy rather than counting and grammar. For the same reason, it matters little to us to change the subject as many times as we please, and as it pleases us; for us, there can result from it neither confusion nor mix-ups. It is always the higher reason of things that we seek, that is to say the direct relation of each things with Justice, which does not undermine in any way classifications of school, and does not compromise any of his faculties.

  To philosophise about this and that, in the manner of Socrates, will thus be then, except for the adjustments demanded by the circumstances, the approach to follow in a philosophico-juridical education destined for the people.—A method of this sort, one will say, is no method at all.—Perhaps: with regard to science, rigor of method is a sign of mistrust of mind, arising from its weakness. If we should address ourselves to superior intelligences, it is the method of Socrates that they prefer, and universal reason itself, if it could speak, would not proceed otherwise. Now nothing resembles universal reason more, as to form, than the reason of the people; in treating it thus, we do not flatter it, but serve it.

  §XI: LAW OF PROGRESS: SOCIAL DESTINATION

  An objection is posed.—If the centre or pivot of philosophy, namely Justice, is, like that of being, invariable and fixed, the system of things, which, in fact and in right, rests on that centre, must also be defined in itself, and consequently fixed in its ensemble and tending to immutability. Leibniz regarded this world as the best possible; he should have said, in virtue of the law of equilibrium that presides over it, that it is the only possible one. One can thus conceive of creation, at least in its thought, as being completed, the universal order being realised in a final manner: then, as the world would no longer have a reason to exist, since it would have reached its perfection, all would return to the universal repose. This is the secret thought of the religions: The end of things, they say, is for the Creator, just as for the creature, the consummation of glory. But strip away the mythology: underneath this unutterable glory, one finds immobility, death, nothingness. The world, drawn from nothing, i.e. inorganic immobility, amorphous, dark, returns, under the terms of its law of balance, to immobility; and our justification is nothing other than the work of our annihilation. Justice, balance, order, perfection, is petrifaction. Movement, life, thought, are bad things; the ideal, the absolute, the Just, which we must continually work to realise, is plenitude, immobility, non-being. It follows that, for the intelligent, moral and free being, happiness is to be found in death, in the quiet of the tomb. Such is the Buddhist dogma, expressed by this apothem: It is better to sit than stand, to sleep than to sit, and to be dead than to sleep. Such is also the conclusion to which one of the late philosophers of Germany arrived; and it is difficult to deny that any philosophy of the absolute, just as any religion, leads to the same result. But common sense is repelled by this theory: it judges that life, action, thought are good; morality itself is repelled by it, since it gives us constantly to work, to learn, and to undertake, in a word, to do the very things that, according to our final destiny, we should regard as bad. How to escape from this contradiction?

  We believe that, as the space in which the worlds whirl about is infinite; time infinite; matter, hurled into infinite space, also infinite; consequently, the power of nature and the capacity for movement infinite: in the same way, without the principle and the law of the universe changing, creation is virtually infinite, in its extent, its duration and its forms. Under this condition of infinity, that inevitably falls on creation, the assumption of a completion, of a final consummation, is contradictory. The universe does not tend to an opposition to progress; its movement is perpetual, because the universe itself is infinite. The law of balance which presides over it does not lead it to uniformity, to an immobilism; it assures, on the contrary, eternal renewal by the economy of forces, which are infinite.

  But if such is the true constitution of the universe, it must be admitted that such is also that of Humanity. We are not heading for any ideal perfection, for a final state that we might reach in a moment by crossing, through death, the gap that separates us from it. We are carried, along with the rest of the universe, in a ceaseless metamorphosis, which is all the more surely and gloriously achieved as we develop more in intelligence and morality. Progress thus remains the law of our heart, not in the sense only that, by the perfection of ourselves, we must approach unceasingly absolute Justice and the ideal; but in the sense that Humanity renewing itself and developing without end, like creation itself, the ideal of Justice and beauty which we have to carry out always changes and always increases.

  Thus, the contemplation of the infinite, which led us to quietism, is precisely what cures us of it: we are participants in universal, eternal life; and the more we can reflect the image of it in our own life, through action and Justice, the happier we are. The small number of days which is allotted to us has nothing to do with this: our perpetuity is in the perpetuity of our race, which in turn is linked to the perpetuity of the Universe. Even if the very globe upon which we live, which we presently know with some scientific certainty to have had a beginning, should crumble beneath our feet and disperse in space, we should see in this dissolution merely a local metamorphosis, which, changing nothing with respect to the universal organism, could not cause us despair, and consequently would not affect our happiness in any way. If the joy of the father of a family on his deathbed is in the survival of his children, why shouldn’t it be the same for our terrestrial humanity, the day when it will feel life become exhausted in its soil and consequently in its veins? After us, other worlds!… Would this idea be beyond the reach of the simple, or too low for the philosophers?

  Thus determined in its nature, its conditions, its principle and its object, philosophy gives us, in its own manner, the word of our destiny.

  What is philosophy?

  Philosophy is the search, and, as far as the strength of the human mind permits, the discovery of the reason of things. Philosophy is thus defined as opposed to theology, which would be defined, we dare say, as the knowledge of the first cause, the inmost nature, and the final end of things.

  Who created the universe?

  Theology answers boldly, without understanding the meaning of its proposition: It is God. Philosophy, on the contrary, says: The universe, such as it appears to the eyes and the reason, being infinite, exists for all eternity. In it, life and spirit are permanent and indefectible; justice is the law that governs all its metamorphoses. Why should the world have a beginning? Why an end? Reason sees no need of it, and repudiates it.

  What is God?

  God, says theology, is the author, the creator, the preserver, the destroyer, and the sovereign lord of all things.

  God, says metaph
ysics, auxiliary and interpreter of theology, is the infinite, absolute, necessary and universal being, which serves the universe as its substratum and hides behind its phenomena. This being is essentially one, consequently possibly personal, intelligent and free; moreover, because of its infinity, it is perfect and holy.

  God, philosophy says finally, is, from the ontological point of view, a conception of the human mind, the reality of which it is impossible to deny or affirm authentically;—from the point of view of humanity, a fantastic representation of the human soul raised to the infinite.

  Why was man created and put on the earth?

  To know God, says theology, to love him, serve him, and by this means, to acquire eternal life.

  Philosophy, pruning the mystical data from theology, answers simply: To carry out Justice, to exterminate evil, to contribute by the good administration of his sphere to the harmonious evolution of the worlds, and by this means, to obtain the greatest sum of glory and happiness, in his body and his soul.

  We will continue this questionnaire. The catechism, with its mythology and its mysteries, served, for eighteen centuries, as a basis for the instruction of the people. Today, children no longer want it. Would philosophy, concrete and positive, arriving at its moment, prove less popular than the catechism has ever been?

  […]

  LITTLE POLITICAL CATECHISM

  INSTRUCTION I

  Of the Social Power, Considered in Itself

  Question:—ANY MANIFESTATION ATTESTS to a reality; what constitutes the reality of social power?

  Answer:—The collective force.

  Q.—What do you mean by the collective force?

  A.—Any being, and by that I mean only what exists, what is a reality, not a phantom, a pure idea, possesses in itself, to whatever degree, the faculty or property, as soon as it finds itself in the presence of other beings, of being able to attract and be attracted, to repulse and be repulsed, to move, to act, to think, to PRODUCE, at the very least to resist, by its inertia, influences from the outside.

  This faculty or property, one calls force.

  Thus force is inherent, immanent in being: it is its essential attribute, and what alone testifies to its reality. Take away gravity, and we are no longer assured of the existence of bodies.

  Now, it is not only individuals that are endowed with force; collectivities also have theirs.

  To speak here only of human collectivities, let us suppose that the individuals, in such numbers as one might wish, in whatever manner and to whatever end, group their forces: the resultant of these agglomerated forces, which must not be confused with their sum, constitutes the force or power of the group.

  Q.—Give examples of this force.

  A.—A workshop, formed of workers whose labour converges towards the same goal, which is to obtain such-and-such a product, has, as a workshop or collectivity, a power that belongs to it: the proof of this is that the product of these individuals thus grouped is quite superior to what would have been the sum of their particular products if they had worked separately. Likewise, the crew of a ship, a limited partnership, an academy, an orchestra, an army, etc., all these collectivities, more or less skilfully organised, contain power, a power which is synthetic and consequently specific to the group, superior in quality and energy to the sum of the elementary forces which compose it.

  As for the rest, the beings to which we accord individuality do not enjoy it by any title other than that of the collective beings: they are always groups formed according to a law of relation and in which force, proportional to the arrangement at least as much as to the mass, is the principle of unity.

  From which one concludes, contrary to the old metaphysics:

  1st, That any manifestation of power being the product of a group or an organisation, the intensity and quality of this power, as well as its form, sound, savour, solidity, etc., can serve for the observation and classification of beings; 2nd, that consequently, collective force being a fact as positive as individual force, the first perfectly distinct from the second, collective beings are as much realities as individual ones are.

  Q.—How does the collective force, an ontological, mechanical, industrial phenomenon, become a political power?

  A.—To begin with, any human group—family, workshop, battalion—can be regarded as a social embryo; consequently the force which is in it can, to a certain extent, form the basis for political power.

  But in general it is not from the group such as we have just conceived it that the city, the State, is born. The State results from the unification of several groups different in nature and purpose, each one formed for the exercise of a specific function and the creation of a particular product, then joined under a common law and in an identical interest. It is a collectivity of a higher order, in which each group, taken itself for individual, contributes to developing a new force, which will be even greater to the extent that the associated functions will be more numerous, their harmony more perfect, and the service of the forces, on behalf of the citizens, more complete.

  In short, that which produces power in society and comprises the reality of this society itself is the same thing that produces force in bodies, organised as well as unorganised, and that constitutes their reality, namely the relation of the parts. Imagine a society in which all relations between individuals had suddenly ceased, in which each would provide for his own subsistence in absolute isolation: whatever amity existed between these men, whatever their proximity, their multitude would no longer form an organism, it would lose all reality and all force. Like a body whose molecules have lost the relation that determines their cohesion, at the least shock, it would collapse into dust.

  Q.—In the industrial group, the collective force can be perceived without difficulty: the increase in production shows it. But in the political group, by what signs can one recognise it? In what respect is it distinct from the force of ordinary groups? What is its special product, and what are the nature of its effects?

  A.—From time immemorial, the vulgar believed to see the social power in the deployment of military forces, in the construction of monuments, the completion of works of public utility. But it is clear, according to what has just been said, that all of these things, whatever their size, are effects of the ordinary collective force: it does not matter whether the productive groups, being maintained at the expense of the State, are loyal to the prince, or whether they work for themselves. It is not there that we must seek the manifestations of the social power.

  The active groups which make the city differing from one another in organisation, as well as in their idea and object, the relation that links them is no longer really a relation of co-operation but a relation of commutation. The character of the social force will thus be primarily commutative; it will be no less real.

  Q.—Demonstrate by examples.

  A.—MONEY. In theory and in result, products are exchanged for products. In fact, this exchange, the most significant function of society, which sets in motion values of so many billions of francs, so many thousands of kilogrammes in weight, would not take place without this common denominator, at the same time a product and a sign, which one calls money. In France, the sum of circulating cash is, if one can believe it, approximately two billion francs, or 10 million kilogrammes of silver, or 645,161 kilogrammes of gold. From the point of view of the goods that this instrument makes move, and by supposing all business [is] transacted in cash, one can say that this quantity of currency represents the driving force of several million horses. Is it the metal of which currency is made which has this extraordinary force? No: it is in the public reciprocity of which currency is the sign and the pledge.

  THE BILL OF EXCHANGE. Money, in spite of this marvellous power that the relation of commutation of the producing groups gives it, is still not enough for the mass of transactions. One had to compensate for this by a clever combination, the theory of which is as well known as is the theory of money. The annual production of the country
being 12 billion, one can, without exaggeration, carry the sum of the exchanges which this production implies to four times as much, that is to say, 48 billion. If the business were transacted in cash, one would need a quantity of currency of at least half that, if not equal to it: so that the use of the bill of exchanges actually acts as would a score of a billion francs, in gold or silver specie. From whence does this power come? From the relation of commutation which links the members of the society, groups and individuals.

  THE BANK. The discount of bills of exchange is a service for which particular banks are made to pay a rather high price, but for which the Bank of France, which has the privilege to issue bearer orders and to make them universally accepted, only charges a fee two thirds lower. And it is proven that these fees could be reduced further by nine tenths. A new degree of economy is obtained, consequently a new force is created, by virtue of social relations.

  For whoever says a saving in expenses, says, in all things, a reduction in inert force or dead weight, and consequently an increase in vital force.