Book I, Chapter II

Of the Principle Which Gives Rise to the Division of Labor.

This division of labor, from which so many advantages arise, is not originally the effect of human wisdom foreseeing and intending the general wealth it brings about. It is the necessary, though very slow and gradual, consequence of a certain propensity in human nature that has no such broad benefit in view: the propensity to trade, barter, and exchange one thing for another.

Whether this propensity is an original principle of human nature that admits no further explanation, or, as seems more likely, a necessary consequence of our faculties of reason and speech, is not a question for our present inquiry. It is common to all human beings and found in no other species of animal, which appear to know neither this nor any other kind of contract. Two grayhounds pursuing the same hare sometimes seem to act in concert. Each turns her toward its companion, or tries to intercept her when its companion turns her back. But this is not the result of any contract: their desires simply happen to converge on the same object at that particular moment. No one has ever seen a dog fairly and deliberately exchange one bone for another with another dog. No one has ever seen one animal signify to another, by its gestures and natural cries, “This is mine, that is yours; I will give this for that.” When an animal wants something from a human being or another animal, it has no means of persuasion except to win the favor of the one whose help it needs. A puppy fawns on its mother, and a spaniel tries by a thousand enticements to engage its master’s attention at dinner when it wants to be fed. People sometimes employ the same devices with one another; when they have no other means of inducing others to act as they wish, they try by every servile and fawning attention to gain their goodwill. But no one has time to do this on every occasion. In civilized society a person needs the cooperation and help of great multitudes at all times, while an entire life is scarcely enough to win the friendship of a few. Among almost all other species, each animal, when fully grown, is entirely independent and in its natural state needs no other living creature’s assistance. A human being, however, has almost constant need of others’ help, and it is futile to expect that help from their benevolence alone. He is more likely to succeed if he can enlist their self-interest on his side and show them that doing what he asks is to their own advantage. Anyone offering another person a bargain proposes just this. “Give me what I want, and you shall have what you want”: that is the meaning of every such offer. In this way we obtain from one another by far the greater part of the services we need. We expect our dinner not from the benevolence of the butcher, the brewer, or the baker, but from their concern for their own interest. We appeal not to their humanity but to their self-interest, and we speak to them not of our own needs but of their advantages. No one except a beggar chooses to rely chiefly on the benevolence of his fellow citizens. Even a beggar does not depend on it entirely. The charity of kindly people does, indeed, supply the whole fund of his subsistence. Yet though this principle ultimately provides all the necessities of life he needs, it neither does nor can provide them as he needs them. Most of his immediate wants are met as other people’s are: by agreement, barter, and purchase. With the money one person gives him, he buys food. Old clothes given by another he exchanges for clothes that suit him better, or for lodging, food, or money with which to buy food, clothes, or lodging as he needs.

Just as it is by agreement, barter, and purchase that we obtain from one another most of the mutual services we need, so this same disposition to trade originally gives rise to the division of labor. In a tribe of hunters or shepherds, one person, for example, makes bows and arrows more quickly and skillfully than the others. He often exchanges them with his companions for cattle or venison, and at last discovers that this way he can obtain more cattle and venison than if he went out to catch them himself. With his own interest in mind, then, he makes bow-and-arrow-making his chief business and becomes a kind of armorer. Another excels at making the frames and coverings of their little huts or movable houses. He is accustomed to helping his neighbors in this way, and they reward him with cattle and venison too, until at last he sees that it is in his interest to devote himself wholly to this work and become a kind of house carpenter. In the same way a third person becomes a smith or a brassworker, a fourth a tanner or a dresser of hides and skins, the principal clothing of people in such societies. Thus the certainty of being able to exchange the surplus produce of one’s own labor—whatever exceeds one’s own consumption—for the produce of other people’s labor that one needs encourages everyone to devote himself to a particular occupation and develop to its fullest whatever talent or aptitude he has for that kind of business.

In reality, differences in natural talents among people are much smaller than we suppose. The very different aptitudes that seem to distinguish people in different professions when they reach maturity are often less the cause than the effect of the division of labor. The difference between the most dissimilar characters, a philosopher and an ordinary street porter, for example, seems to arise less from nature than from habit, custom, and education. When they first came into the world, and for their first six or eight years, they were perhaps very much alike, and neither parents nor playmates could detect any remarkable difference. At that age, or soon afterward, they begin to be employed in very different occupations. Differences in talent then become noticeable and gradually widen until at last the philosopher’s vanity can scarcely acknowledge any resemblance. Yet without the disposition to trade, barter, and exchange, everyone would have had to obtain for himself every necessity and convenience of life he wanted. All would have had the same duties to perform and the same work to do, and there could have been no difference of employment such as alone can give rise to any great difference of talents.

Just as this disposition produces the striking differences of talent among people of different professions, it also makes those differences useful. Many breeds of animals, acknowledged to be of one species, have by nature much greater differences of disposition and ability than appear among people before custom and education shape them. A philosopher is by nature not half so different in mind and disposition from a street porter as a mastiff is from a greyhound, a greyhound from a spaniel, or a spaniel from a shepherd’s dog. Yet these different breeds of animals, though all of one species, are of hardly any use to one another. The mastiff’s strength receives not the slightest support from the greyhound’s speed, the spaniel’s keen perception, or the shepherd dog’s obedience. For want of the power or disposition to barter and exchange, the fruits of these different abilities and talents cannot be brought into a common stock and do nothing to improve the comfort and well-being of the species. Every animal must still support and defend itself separately and independently, gaining no advantage from the range of talents with which nature has distinguished its fellows. Among human beings, on the contrary, the most dissimilar abilities benefit one another. Through the general disposition to trade, barter, and exchange, the different products of their respective talents are brought, as it were, into a common stock from which everyone can purchase whatever share of the produce of others’ talents he needs.

On the Principle That Gives Rise to the Division of Labor.

The division of labor brings many benefits. It did not originally arise because people wisely foresaw and planned the widespread wealth it would bring. Rather, it is the necessary result, reached very slowly and gradually, of a human tendency that is not aimed at any such broad benefit. People tend to trade, barter, and exchange one thing for another.

We need not decide here whether this tendency is an inborn feature of human nature that cannot be explained further, or, as seems more likely, a necessary result of our ability to reason and speak. All people have it, but no other kind of animal seems to understand this or any other kind of agreement. Two grayhounds chasing one hare sometimes appear to work together. Each turns the hare toward the other or tries to catch it as the other turns it back. But they have not made an agreement. They simply happen to want the same thing at that moment. Nobody has ever seen one dog consciously make a fair trade of one bone for another with a second dog. Nobody has ever seen an animal convey to another by gesture or natural cry: this is mine, that is yours; I will give you this for that. If an animal wants something from a person or another animal, its only way of persuading them is to win favor from the one whose help it needs. A puppy fawns on its mother. A spaniel seeking food tries in a thousand ways to catch the attention of its owner at dinner. People sometimes act this way toward other people. If they have no other way to get what they want, they try to gain goodwill by being submissive and flattering. But they cannot do this every time they need something. In civilized society a person constantly needs the cooperation and help of large numbers of people. A whole lifetime is barely enough to become friends with a few. In almost every other animal species, a mature individual is completely independent and naturally needs no help from another living creature. A person, however, almost always needs help from other people. It is no use relying only on their kindness. A person has a better chance if he appeals to their self-interest and shows that helping him would benefit them. Everyone who proposes a deal does this. The meaning of every such offer is: give me what I want and you will get what you want. This is how we obtain by far most of the help we need from each other. We expect dinner from the butcher, the brewer, and the baker not because they are kind but because they care about their own interests. We appeal to their self-interest, not to their concern for others, and speak about what they stand to gain, not what we need. Only a beggar chooses to depend mainly on fellow citizens' kindness. Even a beggar does not depend on it entirely. Gifts from generous people provide all the means by which he lives, but they cannot supply each necessity exactly when it arises. He meets most of his day-to-day needs the same way other people do: by making deals, bartering, and buying things. He buys food with money someone gives him. He exchanges someone else's gift of old clothes for more suitable clothes, or for housing, food, or money. With that money he buys food, clothes, or housing when he needs them.

Deals, barter, and purchases provide most of the help people give each other. The same tendency to trade first gives rise to the division of labor. Suppose someone in a tribe of hunters or shepherds can make bows and arrows faster and more skillfully than anyone else. He often trades them with other members for cattle or venison. Eventually he finds that this brings him more cattle and venison than hunting or tending herds himself would. So it is in his interest to make bows and arrows as his main occupation, and he becomes a kind of armorer. Another person is especially good at making the frames and covers of their small huts or movable homes. His neighbors regularly use his help and pay him with cattle and venison. He eventually sees that it pays to devote himself entirely to this work and becomes a kind of house carpenter. In the same way, a third person becomes a smith or a worker in brass, and a fourth prepares or tans hides and skins, which supply most of the clothing worn by people in such societies. Because each person knows he can exchange everything he makes beyond what he uses for the things other workers make that he needs, he is encouraged to specialize. He develops whatever talent he has for that job as far as he can.

People's natural talents actually differ much less than we think. The very different abilities we see in adults of different occupations are often results of the division of labor rather than its causes. Consider two people who seem very different, a philosopher and an ordinary street porter. Habit, custom, and education seem to account for more of that difference than nature does. At birth and for their first six or eight years, they may have been very much alike. Neither parents nor playmates could notice any striking difference. At about that age, or shortly after, they begin different kinds of work. Their different talents then become visible and gradually grow further apart. At last the philosopher's vanity makes him reluctant to admit that they resemble each other at all. Without the tendency to trade and exchange, though, each person would have to supply all the necessities and comforts he wanted for himself. Everyone would have the same jobs to do. There could be no division of work to create large differences in talent.

The tendency to trade both creates the striking differences in talent among people in different professions and makes those differences useful. Among the groups of animals recognized as belonging to a single species, nature produces much greater differences in abilities than those seen among people before custom and education take effect. A philosopher's natural intelligence and disposition differ less from a street porter's than a mastiff's differ from a greyhound's, or a greyhound's from a spaniel's, or a spaniel's from a shepherd's dog's. Yet these different groups of animals, though members of the same species, can do almost nothing for each other. The mastiff's strength gains nothing from the greyhound's speed, the spaniel's keen senses, or the shepherd's dog's readiness to learn. Because they cannot or will not trade, their different talents cannot be pooled. They do nothing to improve the comfort and living conditions of their species. Each animal must support and protect itself independently and gets no benefit from the different abilities of its fellows. Among people, on the other hand, even the most different talents are useful to one another. The general tendency to trade and exchange brings the various products of people's skills into a common stock. Each person can then buy whatever he needs of the products of other people's talents.