..

20 HU MA N NATU RE
· of society he lose s the sense of his weak.
As soon as man enters lnco a state
nce s the state of wa r.
ness; equality ceases, and then com me
tesquieu, The Spirit of the Laws , 1ra111
[From Charles Louis de Secondat, Baron de Mon
ann (Hafner Press• NcwYor\,
Thomas Nugent, with an Introduction by Franz Neum .
Collier Macmillan, London, 1949), 3-5 . First published !7◄81

J BAN-J ACQUB S ROUSSEAU

· · ···· · ··· · · ·· ·· ·· ·· · ·· ·· .. . ... . . . . ... .. .. ....... .. .. .. . .. . . . . .. , .. .. . . . ..... . ..... .. . . . . . ..... .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .... . . .. . .... .. . ......... .. ... ..... .....
5 The Noble Savage

The philosophers, who have inquired into the founda tions of society, have all
felt the necessity of going back to a state of nature; but not one of them has go
t

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 m.en
we have daily before our eyes. Nature treats all the animals left to her care wich
a predilection that seems to show how jealous she is of that right. The ho rse, thc
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�
forests than when bred in the stall. By becoming domesticated, they lose h
these advantages; and it seems as if all our care to feed and treat the m well
serves only to deprave them. It is thus with man also: as he beco mes sociable
and a slave, �e grows weak, timid, and servile; his effeminate way of lif� tot�;
enervates his strength and courage . To this it may be added that there 1s still d
. .
greater difference between savage and civilized man than between wild �
tame beasts; for men and brutes having been treated alike by nature, the seve .
conveniences in which men indulge themselves still more than they do chetr
beasts, are so many additional causes of their deeper degeneracy.
It is not therefore so great a misfortunate to these primitive men , n�r 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
· · they have no need of suc
coverecl Wlt· h hau:. · and,
h covering in warm cli· mates,
in cold countries, they soon learn to appropriate the skins of the beasts t��
­
have overcome. If they have but two le= to run with , they have two arms to
o-
fend themselves w1th, and provide for their wants. Their children are sl0'�•ly
.

and \.vith difficulty taught to walk; but their mothers are able to carry tbe�
· h ease; an aclvantage which other animals ed 15
w1t lack as the mother, if pu rsu 'SS,
r d e 1' ther to aban don her young, or to regulate her pace by theirs. u nJe
t
1orce
f •

m· sh ort. we suppose a smgu

· 1ar and fortuitous concurrence of circumstances 0.
.n 1
which I shall speak later, and which could we l never come about, it is pla1 J.J
l
every state of the case, that the man who fi rst made himself clothe s or a
 JEAN-JACQUES ROUSSEAU 21

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 an­
imal state. [ . . . ]
It appears, at first view, that men in a state of nature, having no moral rela­
tions 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 preserva­
tion, 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 na­
ture. 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
indemni fies 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
22 H UMAN NATURE

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 lay
s
down, he ought to have said that the state of nature, being that in which the cart
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 ofpassions
which are the work of society, and have made laws necessary. A bad man, he say�
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 fee­
ble, 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 stran�e
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 Ins
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 un·
derstanding nor the restraint of law that hinders them from doing ill; but the
peacefulness of their passions, and their ignorance of vice: tanto plus in illis profictt
vitiorum ignoratio, quam in his cognitio virtutis. There is another principle which has
escaped Hobbes; which, having been bestowed on mankind, to moderate , on cer·
tain occasions, the impetuosity of amour-propre, 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 con
tradiction in holding man to be possessed of the only natural virtue, which could
of
not be denied him by the most violent detractor of human virtue. I am speaking
50
compassion, which is a disposition suitable to creatures so weak and subject co
ful co
many evils as we certainly are: by so much the more universal and use
nat·
mankind, as it comes before any kind of reflection; and at the same time so
t co
ural, that the very brutes themselves sometimes give evident proofs of it. No
en·
mention the tenderness of mothers for their offspring and the perils they e
anc
counter to save them from danger, it is well known that horses show a reluct er
o t�
to trample on living bodies. One animal never passes by the dead body of an e
il
of its species without disquiet: some even give their fellows a sort of burial; wh
the mournful lowings of the cattle when they enter the slaughter-house sh oW [he
.
impressions made on them by the horrible spectacle which meets them . [ . · J
S u ch is the pure emotion of nature, prior to all kinds of reflection ! s uch is che
as yet
force of natural compassion, which the greatest depravity of morals has
hardly been able to destroy! [. . . ]
 ROBERT OWEN 23

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 sit­
uation; 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 IneqHality, in The Social Contract and Discourses, trans. and
introd. G. D. H. Cole U- M. Dent, London, 1973), 50, 57-8, 6r, 71-4, 79-80. First published
1755 .)

.......... ...... ,., .. , ....... , ... , ...... ,, ...................................................................................... .... ··········· .... .... .
ROBERT OWEN

6 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 enemies 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-
que nces.
This error cannot much longer exist; for every day will make it more evident