Bentham’s amazingly sophisticated views on property rights as the driver of prosperity

I accidentally came across these views of Bentham and I’m amazed by their sophistication. He wrote this well over 200 years ago.

SOURCE

CHAPTER VIII.

Of Property.

THE better to understand the advantages of law, let us endeavor to form a clear idea of property. We shall see that there is no such thing as natural property, and that it is entirely the work of/law.

Property is nothing but a basis of expectation; the expectation of deriving-certain advantages from a thing, which we are said to possess, in consequence of the relation in which we stand towards it.

There is no image, no painting, no visible trait, which can express the relation that constitutes property. It is not material, it is metaphysical; it is a mere conception of the mind.

To have a thing in our hands; to keep it; to make it; to sell it; to work it up into- something else; to use it;–none of these physical circumstances, nor all united, convey the idea of property. A piece of stuff which is actually in the Indies may belong to me, while the dress I wear, may not.

The aliment which is incorporated into my very body, may belong to another, to whom I am bound to account for it.

The idea of property consists in an established expectation; in the persuasion of being able to draw such or such an advantage from the thing possessed, according to the nature of the case. Now this expectation, this persuasion, can only be the work of law. I cannot count upon the enjoyment of that which I regard as mine, except through the promise of the law which guarantees it to me. It is law alone which permits me to forget my natural weakness. It is only through the protection of law, that I am able to enclose a field, and to give myself up to its cultivation, with the sure though distant hope of harvest.

But it may be asked, what is it that serves as a basis to law, upon which to begin operations, when it adopts objects, which under the name of property, it promises to protect? Have not men, in the primitive state, a natural expectation of enjoying certain things,—an expectation drawn from sources anterior to law?

Yes. There have been from the beginning, and there always will be, circumstances, in which a man may secure himself by his own means, in the enjoyment of certain things. But the catalogue of these cases is very limited. The savage who has killed a deer, may hope to keep it for himself, so long as his cave is undiscovered; so long as he watches to defend it, and is stronger than his rivals; but that is all. How miserable and precarious is such a possession! If we suppose the least agreement among savages to respect the acquisitions of each other, we see the introduction of a principle to which no name can be given, but that of law. A feeble and momentary expectation may result from time to time, from circumstances purely physical; but a strong and permanent expectation can result, only from law. That which in the natural state was an almost invisible thread, in the social state, becomes a cable.

Property and law are born together, and die together. Before laws were made, there was no property; take away laws, and property ceases.

As regards property, security consists in receiving no check, no shock, no derangement to the expectation founded on the laws, of enjoying such and such a portion of good. The legislator owes the greatest respect to this expectation which he has himself produced. When he does not contradict it, he does what is essential to the happiness of society; when he disturbs it, he always produces a proportionate sum of evil.

CHAPTER IX.

Answer to an Objection.

BUT perhaps the laws of property, are good for those who have property, and oppressive to those who have none. The poor man perhaps, is more miserable than he would be without laws.

The laws, in creating property, have created riches only in relation to poverty. Poverty is not the work of the laws; it is the primitive condition of the human race. The man who subsists only from day to day, is precisely the man of nature, the savage. The poor man, in civilized society obtains nothing, I admit, except by painful labor; but in the natural state, can he obtain anything except by the sweat of his brow? Has not the chase its fatigues, fishing its dangers, and war its uncertainties? And if man seems to love this adventurous life; if he has an instinct warm for this kind of perils; if the savage enjoys with delight an idleness so dearly bought;—must we thence conclude that he is happier than our cultivators? No. Their labor is more uniform, but their reward is more sure; the woman’s lot is far more agreeable; childhood and old age have more resources; the species multiplies in a proportion a thousand times greater,—and that alone suffices to show on which aide is the superiority of happiness. Thus the laws, in creating riches, are the benefactors of those who remain in the poverty of nature. All participate more or less in the pleasures, the advantages, and the resources of civilized society. The industry and the labor of the poor, place them among the candidates of fortune. And have they not the pleasures of acquisition? Does not hope mix with their labors? Is the security which the law gives, of no importance to them? Those who look down from above upon the inferior ranks, see all objects smaller; but towards the base of the pyramid, it is the summit which in turn, is lost. Comparisons are never dreamed of; the wish of what seems impossible, does not torment. So that in fact, all things considered, the protection of the laws may contribute as much to the happiness of the cottage as to the security of the palace.

It is astonishing that a writer so judicious as Beccaria, has interposed, in a work dictated by the soundest philosophy, a doubt subversive of social order. The right of property, he says, is a terrible right, which perhaps is not necessary. Tyrannical and sanguinary laws have been founded upon that right; it has been frightfully abused; but the right itself presents only ideas of pleasure, abundance, and security. It is that right which has vanquished the natural aversion to labor; which has given to man the empire of the earth; which has brought to an end the migratory life of nations; which has produced the love of country, and a regard for posterity. Men universally desire to enjoy speedily, to enjoy without labor. It is that desire, which is terrible; since it arms all who have not, against all who have. The law which restrains that desire, is the noblest triumph of humanity over itself.

CHAPTER X.

Analysis of the Evils which result from Attacks upon Property.

WE have already seen that subsistence depends upon the laws which assure to the laborer the produce of his labor. But it is desirable more exactly to analyze the evils which result from violations of property. They may be reduced to four heads.

1st. Evil of non-possession. If the acquisition of a portion of wealth is a good, it follows that the non-possession of it is an evil, though only a negative evil. Thus, although men in the condition of primitive poverty, may not have specially felt the want of a good which they knew not, yet it is clear that they have lost all the happiness which might have resulted from its possession, and of which we have the enjoyment. The loss of a portion of good, though we knew nothing of it, is still a loss. Are you doing me no harm, when by false representations you deter my, friend from conferring upon me a favor which I did not expect? In what consists the harm? In the negative evil which results from not possessing that, which but for your falsehoods, I should have had.

2d. Pain of losing. Every thing which I possess, or to which I have a title, I consider in my own mind, as destined always to belong to me. I make it the basis of my expectations, and of the hopes of those dependent upon me; and I form my plan of life accordingly. Every part of my property may have in my estimation, besides its intrinsic value, a value of affection, as an inheritance from my ancestors, as the reward of my own labor, or as the future dependence of my children. Every thing about it, represents to my eye that part of myself which I have put into it;—those cares, that industry, that economy, which denied itself present pleasures to make provision for the future. Thus our property becomes a part of our being, and cannot be torn from us, without rending us to the quick.

3d. Fear of losing. To regret for what we have lost, is joined inquietude as to what we possess, and even as to what we may acquire. For the greater part of the objects which compose subsistence and abundance being perishable matters, future acquisitions are a necessary supplement to present possessions. When insecurity reaches a certain point, the fear of losing prevents us from enjoying what we possess already. The care of preserving, condemns us to a thousand sad and painful precautions, which yet are always liable to fail of their end. Treasures are hidden or conveyed away. Enjoyment becomes sombre, furtive, and solitary. It fears to show itself, lest cupidity should be informed of a chance to plunder.

4th. Deadening of industry. When I despair of making myself sure of the produce of my labor, I only seek to exist from day to day. I am unwilling to give myself cares which will only be profitable to my enemies. Besides, the will to labor is not enough; means are wanting. While waiting to reap, in the mean time, I must live. A single loss may deprive me of the capacity of action, without having quenched the spirit of industry, or without having paralyzed my will. Thus the three first evils affect the passive faculties of the individual, while the fourth extends to his active faculties, and more or less benumbs them.

It appears from this analysis, that the two first evils do not go beyond the individual injured; while the two latter spread through society, and occupy an indefinite space. An attack upon the property of an individual, excites alarm among other proprietors. This sentiment spreads from neighbor to neighbor, till at last the contagion possesses the entire body of the state.

Power and will must unite for the development of industry. Will depends upon encouragement; power upon 4 means. These means are, what is called in the language of political economy, productive capital. When the question relates only to an individual, his productive capital may be annihilated by a single loss, while his spirit of industry is not extinguished, nor even weakened. When the question is of a nation, the annihilation of its productive capital is impossible; but a long time before that fatal term is approached, the evil may infect the will; and the spirit of industry may fall into a fatal lethargy, in the midst of natural resources offered by a rich and fertile soil. The will, however, is excited by so many stimulants, that it resists an abundance of discouragements and losses. A transitory calamity, though great, never destroys the spirit of industry. It is seen to spring up after devouring wars which have impoverished nations, as a robust oak, mutilated by tempests, repairs its losses in a few years and covers itself with new branches. Nothing is sufficient to deaden industry, except the operation of a domestic and permanent cause, such as a tyrannical government, bad legislation, an intolerant religion which drives men from the country, or a minute superstition which stupifies them.

A first act of violence, produces immediately a certain degree of apprehension; some timid spirits are already discouraged. A second violence, which soon succeeds, spreads a more considerable alarm. The more prudent begin to retrench their enterprises, and little by little, to abandon an uncertain career. In proportion as these attacks are repeated, and the system of oppression takes a more habitual character, the dispersion increases. Those who fly are not replaced; those who remain, fall into a state of languor. Thus the field of industry, beaten by perpetual storms, at last, becomes a desert.

Asia Minor, Greece, Egypt, the coasts of Africa, so rich in agriculture, in commerce, and in population, at the flourishing epoch of the Roman empire, what have they become under the absurd despotism of the Turkish government? Palaces have been changed into cabins, and cities into hamlets. That government, odious to every thinking man, has never known that a state cannot grow rich except by an inviolable respect for property. It has never had but two secrets of statesmanship,—to sponge the people, and to stupify them. Thus the finest countries of the earth, wasted, barren, and almost abandoned, can hardly be recognised under the hands ‘of barbarous conquerors.

These evils ought not to be attributed to foreign causes. Civil wars, invasions, natural scourges, may dissipate wealth, put the arts to flight, and swallow up cities. But choked harbors are opened again; communications are reestablished; manufactures revive; cities rise from their ruins. All ravages are repaired by time, while men continue to be men; but there are no men to be found in those unhappy countries, where the slow but fatal despair of long insecurity, has destroyed all the active faculties of the soul.

If we trace the history of this contagion, we shall see its first attacks directed against that part of society which is easy and well off: Opulence is the object of the first depredations. Apparent superfluity vanishes little by little. Absolute need makes itself be obeyed in spite of obstacles, We must live; but when man limits himself to living, the state languishes, and the lamp of industry throws out only a dying flame. Besides, abundance is never so distinct from subsistence, that one can be destroyed without a dangerous blow at the other. While some lose only what is superfluous, others lose a part of what is necessary for by the infinitely complicated system of economical connections, the opulence of a part of the citizens is the only fund upon which a part more numerous, depends for subsistence.

But another picture may be traced, more smiling and not less instructive. It is the picture of the progress of security, and of prosperity its inseparable companion. North America presents to us a most striking contrast. Savage nature may be seen there, side by side with civilized nature. The interior of that immense region offers only a frightful solitude, impenetrable forests or sterile plains, stagnant waters and impure vapors; such is the earth when left to itself. The fierce tribes which rove through those deserts without fixed habitations, always occupied with the pursuit of game, and animated against each other by implacable rivalries, meet only for combat, and often succeed in destroying each other. The beasts of the forest are not so dangerous to man, as he is to himself. But on the borders of these frightful solitudes what different sights are seen. We appear to comprehend in the same view, the two empires of good and evil. Forests give place to cultivated fields; morasses are dried up, and the surface grown firm is covered with meadows, pastures, domestic animals, habitations, healthy and smiling. Rising cities are built upon regular plans; roads are constructed to communicate between them; every thing announces that men, seeking the means of intercourse, have ceased to fear and to murder each other. Harbors filled with vessels, receive all the productions of the earth, and assist in the exchange of all kinds of riches. A numerous people, living upon their labor in peace and abundance, has succeeded to a few tribes of hunters, always placed between war and famine. What has wrought these prodigies? Who has renewed the surface of the earth? Who has given to man this domain over nature—over nature. embellished, fertilized, and perfected? That beneficent genius is Security. It is security which has wrought this great metamorphosis. And how rapid are its operations? It is not yet two centuries since William Penn landed upon those savage coasts with a colony of true conquerors, men of peace, who did not soil their establishments with blood, and who made themselves respected by acts of beneficence and justice.