Some twenty-one years ago I heard the first great Anarchist speaker—the inimitable John Most. It seemed to me
then, and for many years after, that the spoken word hurled forth among the masses with such wonderful
eloquence, such enthusiasm and fire, could never be erased from the human mind and soul. How could any one of
all the multitudes who flocked to Most's meetings escape his prophetic voice! Surely they had but to hear him to
throw off their old beliefs, and see the truth and beauty of Anarchism!
My one great longing then was to be able to speak with the tongue of John Most,—that I, too, might thus reach
the masses. Oh, for the naivety of Youth's enthusiasm! It is the time when the hardest thing seems but child's play.
It is the only period in life worth while. Alas! This period is but of short duration. Like Spring, the STURM UND
DRANG period of the propagandist brings forth growth, frail and delicate, to be matured or killed according to its
powers of resistance against a thousand vicissitudes.
My great faith in the wonder worker, the spoken word, is no more. I have realized its inadequacy to awaken
thought, or even emotion. Gradually, and with no small struggle against this realization, I came to see that oral
propaganda is at best but a means of shaking people from their lethargy: it leaves no lasting impression. The very
fact that most people attend meetings only if aroused by newspaper sensations, or because they expect to be
amused, is proof that they really have no inner urge to learn.
It is altogether different with the written mode of human expression. No one, unless intensely interested in
progressive ideas, will bother with serious books. That leads me to another discovery made after many years of
public activity. It is this: All claims of education notwithstanding, the pupil will accept only that which his mind
craves. Already this truth is recognized by most modern educators in relation to the immature mind. I think it is
equally true regarding the adult. Anarchists or revolutionists can no more be made than musicians. All that can be
done is to plant the seeds of thought. Whether something vital will develop depends largely on the fertility of the
human soil, though the quality of the intellectual seed must not be overlooked.
In meetings the audience is distracted by a thousand non-essentials. The speaker, though ever so eloquent, cannot
escape the restlessness of the crowd, with the inevitable result that he will fail to strike root. In all probability he
will not even do justice to himself.
The relation between the writer and the reader is more intimate. True, books are only what we want them to be;
rather, what we read into them. That we can do so demonstrates the importance of written as against oral
expression. It is this certainty which has induced me to gather in one volume my ideas on various topics of
individual and social importance. They represent the mental and soul struggles of twenty-one years,—the
conclusions derived after many changes and inner revisions.
I am not sanguine enough to hope that my readers will be as numerous as those who have heard me. But I prefer
to reach the few who really want to learn, rather than the many who come to be amused.
As to the book, it must speak for itself. Explanatory remarks do but detract from the ideas set forth. However, I
wish to forestall two objections which will undoubtedly be raised. One is in reference to the essay on
ANARCHISM; the other, on MINORITIES VERSUS MAJORITIES.
"Why do you not say how things will be operated under Anarchism?" is a question I have had to meet thousands
of times. Because I believe that Anarchism can not consistently impose an iron-clad program or method on the
future. The things every new generation has to fight, and which it can least overcome, are the burdens of the past,
which holds us all as in a net. Anarchism, at least as I understand it, leaves posterity free to develop its own
particular systems, in harmony with its needs. Our most vivid imagination can not foresee the potentialities of a
race set free from external restraints. How, then, can any one assume to map out a line of conduct for those to
come? We, who pay dearly for every breath of pure, fresh air, must guard against the tendency to fetter the future.
If we succeed in clearing the soil from the rubbish of the past and present, we will leave to posterity the greatest
and safest heritage of all ages.
The most disheartening tendency common among readers is to tear out one sentence from a work, as a criterion of
the writer's ideas or personality. Friedrich Nietzsche, for instance, is decried as a hater of the weak because he
believed in the UEBERMENSCH. It does not occur to the shallow interpreters of that giant mind that this vision
of the UEBERMENSCH also called for a state of society which will not give birth to a race of weaklings and
slaves.
It is the same narrow attitude which sees in Max Stirner naught but the apostle of the theory "each for himself, the
devil take the hind one." That Stirner's individualism contains the greatest social possibilities is utterly ignored.
Yet, it is nevertheless true that if society is ever to become free, it will be so through liberated individuals, whose
free efforts make society.
These examples bring me to the objection that will be raised to MINORITIES VERSUS MAJORITIES. No
doubt, I shall be excommunicated as an enemy of the people, because I repudiate the mass as a creative factor. I
shall prefer that rather than be guilty of the demagogic platitudes so commonly in vogue as a bait for the people. I
realize the malady of the oppressed and disinherited masses only too well, but I refuse to prescribe the usual
ridiculous palliatives which allow the patient neither to die nor to recover. One cannot be too extreme in dealing
with social ills; besides, the extreme thing is generally the true thing. My lack of faith in the majority is dictated by
my faith in the potentialities of the individual. Only when the latter becomes free to choose his associates for a
common purpose, can we hope for order and harmony out of this world of chaos and inequality.
For the rest, my book must speak for itself.
Emma Goldman
ANARCHISM: WHAT IT REALLY STANDS FOR
ANARCHY.
Ever reviled, accursed, ne'er understood,
Thou art the grisly terror of our age.
"Wreck of all order," cry the multitude,
"Art thou, and war and murder's endless rage."
O, let them cry. To them that ne'er have striven
The truth that lies behind a word to find,
To them the word's right meaning was not given.
They shall continue blind among the blind.
But thou, O word, so clear, so strong, so pure,
Thou sayest all which I for goal have taken.
I give thee to the future! Thine secure
When each at least unto himself shall waken.
Comes it in sunshine? In the tempest's thrill?
I cannot tell—but it the earth shall see!
I am an Anarchist! Wherefore I will
Not rule, and also ruled I will not be!
JOHN HENRY MACKAY.
The history of human growth and development is at the same time the history of the terrible struggle of every new
idea heralding the approach of a brighter dawn. In its tenacious hold on tradition, the Old has never hesitated to
make use of the foulest and cruelest means to stay the advent of the New, in whatever form or period the latter
may have asserted itself. Nor need we retrace our steps into the distant past to realize the enormity of opposition,
difficulties, and hardships placed in the path of every progressive idea. The rack, the thumbscrew, and the knout
are still with us; so are the convict's garb and the social wrath, all conspiring against the spirit that is serenely
marching on.
Anarchism could not hope to escape the fate of all other ideas of innovation. Indeed, as the most revolutionary and
uncompromising innovator, Anarchism must needs meet with the combined ignorance and venom of the world it
aims to reconstruct.
To deal even remotely with all that is being said and done against Anarchism would necessitate the writing of a
whole volume. I shall therefore meet only two of the principal objections. In so doing, I shall attempt to elucidate
what Anarchism really stands for.
The strange phenomenon of the opposition to Anarchism is that it brings to light the relation between so-called
intelligence and ignorance. And yet this is not so very strange when we consider the relativity of all things. The
ignorant mass has in its favor that it makes no pretense of knowledge or tolerance. Acting, as it always does, by
mere impulse, its reasons are like those of a child. "Why?" "Because." Yet the opposition of the uneducated to
Anarchism deserves the same consideration as that of the intelligent man.
What, then, are the objections? First, Anarchism is impractical, though a beautiful ideal. Second, Anarchism stands
for violence and destruction, hence it must be repudiated as vile and dangerous. Both the intelligent man and the
ignorant mass judge not from a thorough knowledge of the subject, but either from hearsay or false interpretation.
A practical scheme, says Oscar Wilde, is either one already in existence, or a scheme that could be carried out
under the existing conditions; but it is exactly the existing conditions that one objects to, and any scheme that could
accept these conditions is wrong and foolish. The true criterion of the practical, therefore, is not whether the latter
can keep intact the wrong or foolish; rather is it whether the scheme has vitality enough to leave the stagnant
waters of the old, and build, as well as sustain, new life. In the light of this conception, Anarchism is indeed
practical. More than any other idea, it is helping to do away with the wrong and foolish; more than any other idea,
it is building and sustaining new life.
The emotions of the ignorant man are continuously kept at a pitch by the most blood-curdling stories about
Anarchism. Not a thing too outrageous to be employed against this philosophy and its exponents. Therefore
Anarchism represents to the unthinking what the proverbial bad man does to the child,—a black monster bent on
swallowing everything; in short, destruction and violence.
Destruction and violence! How is the ordinary man to know that the most violent element in society is ignorance;
that its power of destruction is the very thing Anarchism is combating? Nor is he aware that Anarchism, whose
roots, as it were, are part of nature's forces, destroys, not healthful tissue, but parasitic growths that feed on the
life's essence of society. It is merely clearing the soil from weeds and sagebrush, that it may eventually bear
healthy fruit.
Someone has said that it requires less mental effort to condemn than to think. The widespread mental indolence, so
prevalent in society, proves this to be only too true. Rather than to go to the bottom of any given idea, to examine
into its origin and meaning, most people will either condemn it altogether, or rely on some superficial or prejudicial
definition of non-essentials.
Anarchism urges man to think, to investigate, to analyze every proposition; but that the brain capacity of the
average reader be not taxed too much, I also shall begin with a definition, and then elaborate on the latter.
ANARCHISM:—The philosophy of a new social order based on liberty unrestricted by man-made law; the
theory that all forms of government rest on violence, and are therefore wrong and harmful, as well as unnecessary.
The new social order rests, of course, on the materialistic basis of life; but while all Anarchists agree that the main
evil today is an economic one, they maintain that the solution of that evil can be brought about only through the
consideration of EVERY PHASE of life,—individual, as well as the collective; the internal, as well as the external
phases.
A thorough perusal of the history of human development will disclose two elements in bitter conflict with each
other; elements that are only now beginning to be understood, not as foreign to each other, but as closely related
and truly harmonious, if only placed in proper environment: the individual and social instincts. The individual and
society have waged a relentless and bloody battle for ages, each striving for supremacy, because each was blind to
the value and importance of the other. The individual and social instincts,—the one a most potent factor for
individual endeavor, for growth, aspiration, self-realization; the other an equally potent factor for mutual
helpfulness and social well-being.
The explanation of the storm raging within the individual, and between him and his surroundings, is not far to
seek. The primitive man, unable to understand his being, much less the unity of all life, felt himself absolutely
dependent on blind, hidden forces ever ready to mock and taunt him. Out of that attitude grew the religious
concepts of man as a mere speck of dust dependent on superior powers on high, who can only be appeased by
complete surrender. All the early sagas rest on that idea, which continues to be the LEIT-MOTIF of the biblical
tales dealing with the relation of man to God, to the State, to society. Again and again the same motif, MAN IS
NOTHING, THE POWERS ARE EVERYTHING. Thus Jehovah would only endure man on condition of
complete surrender. Man can have all the glories of the earth, but he must not become conscious of himself. The
State, society, and moral laws all sing the same refrain: Man can have all the glories of the earth, but he must not
become conscious of himself.
Anarchism is the only philosophy which brings to man the consciousness of himself; which maintains that God,
the State, and society are non-existent, that their promises are null and void, since they can be fulfilled only
through man's subordination. Anarchism is therefore the teacher of the unity of life; not merely in nature, but in
man. There is no conflict between the individual and the social instincts, any more than there is between the heart
and the lungs: the one the receptacle of a precious life essence, the other the repository of the element that keeps
the essence pure and strong. The individual is the heart of society, conserving the essence of social life; society is
the lungs which are distributing the element to keep the life essence—that is, the individual—pure and strong.
"The one thing of value in the world," says Emerson, "is the active soul; this every man contains within him. The
soul active sees absolute truth and utters truth and creates." In other words, the individual instinct is the thing of
value in the world. It is the true soul that sees and creates the truth alive, out of which is to come a still greater
truth, the re-born social soul.
Anarchism is the great liberator of man from the phantoms that have held him captive; it is the arbiter and pacifier
of the two forces for individual and social harmony. To accomplish that unity, Anarchism has declared war on the
pernicious influences which have so far prevented the harmonious blending of individual and social instincts, the
individual and society.
Religion, the dominion of the human mind; Property, the dominion of human needs; and Government, the
dominion of human conduct, represent the stronghold of man's enslavement and all the horrors it entails. Religion!
How it dominates man's mind, how it humiliates and degrades his soul. God is everything, man is nothing, says
religion. But out of that nothing God has created a kingdom so despotic, so tyrannical, so cruel, so terribly
exacting that naught but gloom and tears and blood have ruled the world since gods began. Anarchism rouses man
to rebellion against this black monster. Break your mental fetters, says Anarchism to man, for not until you think
and judge for yourself will you get rid of the dominion of darkness, the greatest obstacle to all progress.
Property, the dominion of man's needs, the denial of the right to satisfy his needs. Time was when property
claimed a divine right, when it came to man with the same refrain, even as religion, "Sacrifice! Abnegate! Submit!"
The spirit of Anarchism has lifted man from his prostrate position. He now stands erect, with his face toward the
light. He has learned to see the insatiable, devouring, devastating nature of property, and he is preparing to strike
the monster dead.
"Property is robbery," said the great French Anarchist, Proudhon. Yes, but without risk and danger to the robber.
Monopolizing the accumulated efforts of man, property has robbed him of his birthright, and has turned him loose
a pauper and an outcast. Property has not even the time-worn excuse that man does not create enough to satisfy all
needs. The A B C student of economics knows that the productivity of labor within the last few decades far
exceeds normal demand a hundredfold. But what are normal demands to an abnormal institution? The only
demand that property recognizes is its own gluttonous appetite for greater wealth, because wealth means power;
the power to subdue, to crush, to exploit, the power to enslave, to outrage, to degrade. America is particularly
boastful of her great power, her enormous national wealth. Poor America, of what avail is all her wealth, if the
individuals comprising the nation are wretchedly poor? If they live in squalor, in filth, in crime, with hope and joy
gone, a homeless, soilless army of human prey.
It is generally conceded that unless the returns of any business venture exceed the cost, bankruptcy is inevitable.
But those engaged in the business of producing wealth have not yet learned even this simple lesson. Every year
the cost of production in human life is growing larger (50,000 killed, 100,000 wounded in America last year); the
returns to the masses, who help to create wealth, are ever getting smaller. Yet America continues to be blind to the
inevitable bankruptcy of our business of production. Nor is this the only crime of the latter. Still more fatal is the
crime of turning the producer into a mere particle of a machine, with less will and decision than his master of steel
and iron. Man is being robbed not merely of the products of his labor, but of the power of free initiative, of
originality, and the interest in, or desire for, the things he is making.
Real wealth consists in things of utility and beauty, in things that help to create strong, beautiful bodies and
surroundings inspiring to live in. But if man is doomed to wind cotton around a spool, or dig coal, or build roads
for thirty years of his life, there can be no talk of wealth. What he gives to the world is only gray and hideous
things, reflecting a dull and hideous existence,—too weak to live, too cowardly to die. Strange to say, there are
people who extol this deadening method of centralized production as the proudest achievement of our age. They
fail utterly to realize that if we are to continue in machine subserviency, our slavery is more complete than was our
bondage to the King. They do not want to know that centralization is not only the death-knell of liberty, but also of
health and beauty, of art and science, all these being impossible in a clock-like, mechanical atmosphere.
Anarchism cannot but repudiate such a method of production: its goal is the freest possible expression of all the
latent powers of the individual. Oscar Wilde defines a perfect personality as "one who develops under perfect
conditions, who is not wounded, maimed, or in danger." A perfect personality, then, is only possible in a state of
society where man is free to choose the mode of work, the conditions of work, and the freedom to work. One to
whom the making of a table, the building of a house, or the tilling of the soil, is what the painting is to the artist
and the discovery to the scientist,—the result of inspiration, of intense longing, and deep interest in work as a
creative force. That being the ideal of Anarchism, its economic arrangements must consist of voluntary productive
and distributive associations, gradually developing into free communism, as the best means of producing with the
least waste of human energy. Anarchism, however, also recognizes the right of the individual, or numbers of
individuals, to arrange at all times for other forms of work, in harmony with their tastes and desires.
Such free display of human energy being possible only under complete individual and social freedom, Anarchism
directs its forces against the third and greatest foe of all social equality; namely, the State, organized authority, or
statutory law,—the dominion of human conduct.
Just as religion has fettered the human mind, and as property, or the monopoly of things, has subdued and stifled
man's needs, so has the State enslaved his spirit, dictating every phase of conduct. "All government in essence,"
says Emerson, "is tyranny." It matters not whether it is government by divine right or majority rule. In every
instance its aim is the absolute subordination of the individual.
Referring to the American government, the greatest American Anarchist, David Thoreau, said: "Government, what
is it but a tradition, though a recent one, endeavoring to transmit itself unimpaired to posterity, but each instance
losing its integrity; it has not the vitality and force of a single living man. Law never made man a whit more just;
and by means of their respect for it, even the well disposed are daily made agents of injustice."
Indeed, the keynote of government is injustice. With the arrogance and self-sufficiency of the King who could do
no wrong, governments ordain, judge, condemn, and punish the most insignificant offenses, while maintaining
themselves by the greatest of all offenses, the annihilation of individual liberty. Thus Ouida is right when she
maintains that "the State only aims at instilling those qualities in its public by which its demands are obeyed, and
its exchequer is filled. Its highest attainment is the reduction of mankind to clockwork. In its atmosphere all those
finer and more delicate liberties, which require treatment and spacious expansion, inevitably dry up and perish.
The State requires a taxpaying machine in which there is no hitch, an exchequer in which there is never a deficit,
and a public, monotonous, obedient, colorless, spiritless, moving humbly like a flock of sheep along a straight
high road between two walls."
Yet even a flock of sheep would resist the chicanery of the State, if it were not for the corruptive, tyrannical, and
oppressive methods it employs to serve its purposes. Therefore Bakunin repudiates the State as synonymous with
the surrender of the liberty of the individual or small minorities,—the destruction of social relationship, the
curtailment, or complete denial even, of life itself, for its own aggrandizement. The State is the altar of political
freedom and, like the religious altar, it is maintained for the purpose of human sacrifice.
In fact, there is hardly a modern thinker who does not agree that government, organized authority, or the State, is
necessary ONLY to maintain or protect property and monopoly. It has proven efficient in that function only.
Even George Bernard Shaw, who hopes for the miraculous from the State under Fabianism, nevertheless admits
that "it is at present a huge machine for robbing and slave-driving of the poor by brute force." This being the case,
it is hard to see why the clever prefacer wishes to uphold the State after poverty shall have ceased to exist.
Unfortunately there are still a number of people who continue in the fatal belief that government rests on natural
laws, that it maintains social order and harmony, that it diminishes crime, and that it prevents the lazy man from
fleecing his fellows. I shall therefore examine these contentions.
A natural law is that factor in man which asserts itself freely and spontaneously without any external force, in
harmony with the requirements of nature. For instance, the demand for nutrition, for sex gratification, for light, air,
and exercise, is a natural law. But its expression needs not the machinery of government, needs not the club, the
gun, the handcuff, or the prison. To obey such laws, if we may call it obedience, requires only spontaneity and
free opportunity. That governments do not maintain themselves through such harmonious factors is proven by the
terrible array of violence, force, and coercion all governments use in order to live. Thus Blackstone is right when
he says, "Human laws are invalid, because they are contrary to the laws of nature."
Unless it be the order of Warsaw after the slaughter of thousands of people, it is difficult to ascribe to
governments any capacity for order or social harmony. Order derived through submission and maintained by
terror is not much of a safe guaranty; yet that is the only "order" that governments have ever maintained. True
social harmony grows naturally out of solidarity of interests. In a society where those who always work never
have anything, while those who never work enjoy everything, solidarity of interests is non-existent; hence social
harmony is but a myth. The only way organized authority meets this grave situation is by extending still greater
privileges to those who have already monopolized the earth, and by still further enslaving the disinherited masses.
Thus the entire arsenal of government—laws, police, soldiers, the courts, legislatures, prisons,—is strenuously
engaged in "harmonizing"