Part I, Chapter XIII

OF THE NATURAL CONDITION OF MANKIND, AS CONCERNING THEIR HAPPINESS AND MISERY

Nature has made people so equal in bodily and mental faculties that, though one person may sometimes be plainly stronger in body or quicker in mind than another, when all is reckoned together the difference between them is not so great that one can claim a benefit to which another cannot equally lay claim. As for bodily strength, the weakest is strong enough to kill the strongest, either by secret plotting or by joining with others in the same danger.

As for mental faculties—setting aside the arts founded on words, and especially the skill of proceeding by general and infallible rules called science, which very few possess and then in only a few matters, since it is neither a faculty born with us nor one acquired, as prudence is, while we pursue something else—I find an even greater equality among people than in strength. For prudence is only experience, which equal stretches of time give equally to everyone in matters to which they equally apply themselves. What may make this equality seem incredible is merely a vain opinion of one's own wisdom. Almost everyone thinks he possesses more of it than ordinary people—that is, than everyone except himself and a few others whose fame, or agreement with him, wins his approval. Such is human nature that people may admit many others are wittier, more eloquent, or more learned; yet they will hardly believe many are as wise as themselves. They see their own wit close at hand, and other people's at a distance. But this proves people equal in this respect rather than unequal: there is ordinarily no better sign of the equal distribution of anything than everyone's satisfaction with his share.

From this equality of ability arises equality of hope in attaining our ends. If two people desire the same thing, which they cannot both enjoy, they become enemies and, in pursuit of their end—chiefly their own preservation, sometimes only their pleasure—try to destroy or subdue each other. Thus, where an invader need fear no more than another person's solitary strength, if someone plants, sows, builds, or occupies a suitable place, others may well be expected to come with forces united and dispossess him, taking not only the fruits of his labor but his life or liberty. And the invader in turn faces the same danger from another.

From this mutual distrust there is no more reasonable way for anyone to secure himself than anticipation: using force or cunning to master as many people as he can, until he sees no power great enough to endanger him. This is no more than self-preservation requires and is generally allowed. Moreover, some people delight in contemplating their own power through acts of conquest, which they pursue further than their security requires. If others, who would otherwise gladly live at ease within modest bounds, did not enlarge their own power by invasion, they could not long survive by standing only on the defensive. Consequently, such an increase of dominion over others, being necessary for a person's preservation, must be allowed him.

Again, people take no pleasure, but rather great distress, in one another's company where there is no power capable of keeping them all in awe. For each expects his companion to value him as highly as he values himself; and at any sign of contempt or disparagement he naturally tries, as far as he dares—which, among people without a common power to keep them peaceful, is far enough to destroy one another—to force those who scorn him to value him more by doing them harm, and to force others by their example.

Thus in human nature we find three principal causes of quarrel: first, competition; second, distrust; third, glory.

The first makes people invade for gain, the second for safety, and the third for reputation. Those driven by the first use violence to make themselves masters of other people's persons, wives, children, and cattle; those driven by the second, to defend them; those driven by the third, over trifles—a word, a smile, a difference of opinion, or any other sign of disrespect, directed either at themselves or, by implication, at their kindred, friends, nation, profession, or name.

It is therefore plain that while people live without a common power to keep them all in awe, they are in the condition called war: a war of everyone against everyone. For war consists not only in battle or the act of fighting, but in a stretch of time in which the will to fight is sufficiently known. Time must therefore be taken into account in the nature of war, just as in the nature of weather. Bad weather consists not of a shower or two, but of a tendency toward rain lasting many days; likewise war consists not in actual fighting, but in a known disposition to fight throughout the time when there is no assurance to the contrary. All other time is peace.

Everything that follows from a time of war in which everyone is everyone's enemy follows also from the time when people live with no security beyond what their own strength and ingenuity can provide. In such a condition there is no place for industry, because its fruits are uncertain; consequently no cultivation of the earth, no navigation or use of goods imported by sea, no comfortable buildings, no machines for moving things that require great force, no knowledge of the face of the earth, no reckoning of time, no arts, no letters, no society; and worst of all, continual fear and danger of violent death. And human life is solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short.

Someone who has not weighed these matters carefully may find it strange that nature should thus separate people and make them ready to attack and destroy one another; distrusting an inference drawn from the passions, he may wish to see it confirmed by experience. Let him consider what he does himself: when setting out on a journey he arms himself and seeks good company; when going to sleep he locks his doors; even at home he locks his chests. He does this though he knows that laws exist and public officers are armed to avenge any injury done to him. What opinion does he have 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 accuse mankind by his actions as much as I do by my words? Yet neither of us thereby accuses human nature. Human desires and other passions are not in themselves sins. Neither are actions proceeding from those passions, until people know a law forbidding them; and they cannot know one until laws are made, nor can any law be made until they have agreed on the person who shall make it.

It may perhaps be thought that there was never a time or condition of war like this; and I believe it has never prevailed throughout the whole world. But many places live like this now. The peoples called savage in many parts of America, except for the rule of small families whose harmony depends on natural lust, have no government at all, and live to this day in the brutish manner I have described. In any case, one can see what life would be like where there was no common power to fear from the way people formerly living under a peaceful government are apt to sink into such a life in civil war.

Even if individual people had never been at war with one another, kings and persons of Sovereign authority, in every age, are continually suspicious because of their independence. They stand like gladiators, weapons pointed and eyes fixed on one another: their forts, garrisons, and guns facing the frontiers of their kingdoms, and their spies continually watching their neighbors. That is a posture of war. But because they thereby sustain the industry of their subjects, the misery accompanying the liberty of private individuals does not follow from it.

Another consequence of this war of everyone against everyone is that nothing can be unjust. Notions of right and wrong, justice and injustice, have no place there. Where there is no common power, there is no law; where there is no law, no injustice. Force and fraud are the two cardinal virtues in war. Justice and injustice are faculties neither of body nor of mind. If they were, someone alone in the world could have them, as he could have senses and passions. They are qualities that belong to people in society, not solitude. It also follows from the same condition that there is no property, no dominion, no distinction between mine and yours; only that each person owns whatever he can get, for as long as he can keep it. So much for the wretched condition in which mere nature actually places mankind, though there is a possibility of escaping it, arising partly from the passions and partly from reason.

The passions that incline people toward peace are fear of death, desire for what is needed to live comfortably, and hope of obtaining it through their industry. Reason suggests suitable articles of peace on which people may be brought to agreement. These articles are otherwise called the Laws of Nature; I shall speak of them more particularly in the next two chapters.

CHAPTER XIV. OF THE FIRST AND SECOND NATURAL LAWS, AND OF CONTRACTS

ON THE NATURAL CONDITION OF MANKIND, INCLUDING THEIR HAPPINESS AND MISERY

Nature has made people so equal in their physical and mental abilities that, although one person is sometimes plainly stronger or quicker-minded than another, the overall difference is not large enough for anyone to claim an advantage that others cannot claim too. Even the weakest person is strong enough to kill the strongest, either by a secret plan or by joining with others who face the same danger.

Mental abilities are even more equal than physical strength. I set aside skills based on words, especially science, which uses general and reliable rules. Very few people have this skill, and then only in a few fields. It is not an ability we are born with, nor do we acquire it, as we acquire practical judgment, while pursuing something else. Practical judgment is simply experience, and equal time gives equal experience to people who pay equal attention to the same things. What can make this equality seem unbelievable is people's inflated opinion of their own wisdom. Almost everyone thinks they have more of it than ordinary people—that is, everyone except themselves and a few people they admire for their fame or for agreeing with them. People may admit that many others are wittier, more eloquent, or better educated. But they will hardly believe that many are as wise as they are. They see their own intelligence close up and others' from a distance. This is evidence of equality rather than inequality. Usually the best sign that something has been distributed equally is that everyone is satisfied with their share.

Equal ability leads to equal hope of achieving our goals. When two people want something that they cannot both have, they become enemies. In pursuing their goal—mainly self-preservation, though sometimes only pleasure—they try to destroy or subdue each other. Suppose someone plants crops, sows seeds, builds, or occupies a good place, and an attacker need fear only that person's individual strength. Others can be expected to join forces and arrive ready to take not only the fruits of that person's work but also his life or freedom. The attacker faces the same danger from yet another attacker.

Because people distrust one another, the most reasonable way for anyone to make himself safe is to strike first. By force or cunning, he gains control over as many people as he can until no one else is powerful enough to endanger him. This goes no further than self-preservation requires and is generally permitted. Some people, however, enjoy displaying their power through conquest and keep going beyond what their safety requires. If people who would otherwise happily live within modest limits did not also expand their power by attacking, they could not survive for long by defense alone. Increasing their power over other people is therefore necessary for their survival and must be permitted.

People also take no pleasure in one another's company without a power strong enough to keep them all in check. Instead, they feel considerable distress. Each expects others to value him as highly as he values himself. At any sign of contempt or disrespect, he naturally tries to force his critics to show more respect by harming them, and to make an example for everyone else. He does this as far as he dares. Among people with no common power to keep the peace, that can mean destroying each other.

We thus find three main causes of conflict in human nature: competition, distrust, and glory.

Competition makes people attack for gain; distrust, for safety; and glory, for reputation. For gain, they use violence to seize other people's bodies, wives, children, and livestock. For safety, they use it to defend these. For reputation, they use it over trivial things: a word, a smile, a different opinion, or any other sign of disrespect. The slight may be aimed at them directly or indirectly, through their relatives, friends, nation, profession, or name.

It is therefore clear that when people live without a common Power to keep them all in check, they are in a condition called war: a war of every person against every person. War is not just a battle or an act of fighting. It is a period when people's willingness to fight is sufficiently clear. Time therefore matters to the nature of war, just as it does to weather. Bad weather is not defined by one or two showers, but by a tendency toward rain over many days. Likewise, war is not defined by actual fighting, but by a known readiness to fight for as long as there is no assurance that fighting will not occur. Any other time is peace.

Everything that follows from a time of war, when everyone is everyone's enemy, also follows when people have no security except what their own strength and ingenuity provide. In this condition, there is no place for productive work because no one can be sure of its results. As a result, there is no cultivation of the land, no navigation or use of goods imported by sea, no comfortable buildings, no machinery for moving heavy things, no knowledge of the earth's geography, no tracking of time, no arts, no writing, and no society. Worst of all, there is constant fear and danger of violent death. Human life is solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short.

Someone who has not thought carefully about this may find it strange that nature should separate people and make them likely to attack and destroy one another. Unconvinced by an argument drawn from the Passions, he may want it confirmed by experience. Let him consider what he himself does. Before a journey he arms himself and seeks companions. Before sleep he locks his doors. Even at home he locks his chests, despite knowing that laws exist and armed public officers will punish anyone who harms him. What does carrying weapons say about his opinion of his fellow subjects? What do his locked doors say about his fellow citizens, and his locked chests about his children and servants? Does he not accuse humanity by his actions as much as I do by my words? Yet neither of us is condemning human nature itself. Human desires and other Passions are not sinful in themselves. Nor are the acts that follow from them sinful before people know a law forbidding them. They cannot know such a law until laws are made, and no law can be made until they have agreed on who will make it.

Perhaps someone will think that there was never a time or condition of war like this. I believe it never existed everywhere in the world at once, but in many places people live this way now. The peoples called savage in many parts of America have no government apart from small family groups held together by natural desire. To this day they live in the brutish way I described. In any case, we can see what life would be like without a common Power to fear from the life into which people once governed peacefully tend to fall during a civil war.

Even if individuals had never lived in a state of war with one another, kings and people with Soveraigne authority have always been suspicious of one another because they are independent. They are like gladiators, weapons pointed and eyes fixed on each other. Their forts, garrisons, and guns stand at the borders of their Kingdoms, and they keep spies watching their neighbors. This is a posture of war. But because they can still sustain their subjects' work, this condition does not bring the misery caused by the unrestricted liberty of individuals.

The war of everyone against everyone has another consequence: nothing can be unjust. Right and wrong, justice and injustice, have no place there. Without a common Power there is no law, and without law there is no injustice. Force and fraud are the two chief virtues in war. Justice and injustice are not physical or mental abilities. If they were, a person alone in the world could possess them, just as he could possess senses and Passions. They are qualities of people living together, not of someone living alone. Another result of this condition is that there is no property, no established control over things, and no clear distinction between mine and yours. Each person owns only what he can take, and only for as long as he can keep it. That is the bad condition nature actually puts humanity in. People can nevertheless escape it, partly through their Passions and partly through reason.

The Passions that lead people toward peace are fear of death, desire for what they need to live comfortably, and hope of getting these things by their work. Reason suggests useful terms of peace on which people can agree. These terms are also called the Laws of Nature. I will discuss them more fully in the next two chapters.

CHAPTER XIV. ON THE FIRST AND SECOND LAWS OF NATURE, AND ON CONTRACTS