Chapter 1

The object of this Essay is to explain as clearly as I am able, the grounds of an opinion which I have held from the very earliest period when I had formed any opinions at all on social or political matters, and which, instead of being weakened or modified, has been constantly growing stronger by the progress of reflection and the experience of life: That the principle which regulates the existing social relations between the two sexes—the legal subordination of one sex to the other—is wrong in itself, and now one of the chief hindrances to human improvement; and that it ought to be replaced by a principle of perfect equality, admitting no power or privilege on the one side, nor disability on the other.

The purpose of this essay is to explain, as clearly as I can, the reasons for a belief I hold. I have held this belief since I first formed any opinions on social or political matters. Rather than weakening or changing, my belief has grown steadily stronger through reflection and life experience. My belief is that the principle governing current social relations between the sexes is wrong in itself. This principle, the legal subordination of one sex to the other, is now a major obstacle to human progress. It should be replaced by a principle of complete equality, allowing neither power nor privilege for one sex, nor restrictions on the other.

The very words necessary to express the task I have undertaken, show how arduous it is. But it would be a mistake to suppose that the difficulty of the case must lie in the insufficiency or obscurity of the grounds of reason on which my conviction rests. The difficulty is that which exists in all cases in which there is a mass of feeling to be contended against. So long as an opinion is strongly rooted in the feelings, it gains rather than loses in stability by having a preponderating weight of argument against it. For if it were accepted as a result of argument, the refutation of the argument might shake the solidity of the conviction; but when it rests solely on feeling, the worse it fares in argumentative contest, the more persuaded its adherents are that their feeling must have some deeper ground, which the arguments do not reach; and while the feeling remains, it is always throwing up fresh intrenchments of argument to repair any breach made in the old. And there are so many causes tending to make the feelings connected with this subject the most intense and most deeply-rooted of all those which gather round and protect old institutions and customs, that we need not wonder to find them as yet less undermined and loosened than any of the rest by the progress of the great modern spiritual and social transition; nor suppose that the barbarisms to which men cling longest must be less barbarisms than those which they earlier shake off.

The very words needed to describe the task I have undertaken show how difficult the task is. But the difficulty does not mean that the reasons supporting my conviction are weak or unclear. The difficulty arises whenever an argument must contend with a great weight of feeling. As long as an opinion is deeply rooted in feeling, overwhelming arguments against the opinion strengthen rather than weaken it. For if people accepted an opinion because of an argument, disproving the argument might shake their conviction. But when an opinion rests entirely on feeling, arguments against the opinion have the opposite effect. The worse the opinion fares in debate, the more convinced its supporters become that their feeling has some deeper foundation. They believe the arguments cannot reach that foundation. And as long as the feeling remains, the feeling keeps producing fresh defensive arguments to repair gaps in the old ones. Many causes make the feelings surrounding this subject especially intense and deeply rooted. These feelings are the strongest of all those that surround and protect old institutions and customs. So we need not be surprised that these feelings have so far weakened less than any of the others. This resistance persists despite the great modern transformation in thought and society. Nor should we suppose that the barbaric practices people cling to longest are any less barbaric than those they abandon sooner.

In every respect the burthen is hard on those who attack an almost universal opinion. They must be very fortunate as well as unusually capable if they obtain a hearing at all. They have more difficulty in obtaining a trial, than any other litigants have in getting a verdict. If they do extort a hearing, they are subjected to a set of logical requirements totally different from those exacted from other people. In all other cases, the burthen of proof is supposed to lie with the affirmative. If a person is charged with a murder, it rests with those who accuse him to give proof of his guilt, not with himself to prove his innocence. If there is a difference of opinion about the reality of any alleged historical event, in which the feelings of men in general are not much interested, as the Siege of Troy for example, those who maintain that the event took place are expected to produce their proofs, before those who take the other side can be required to say anything; and at no time are these required to do more than show that the evidence produced by the others is of no value. Again, in practical matters, the burthen of proof is supposed to be with those who are against liberty; who contend for any restriction or prohibition; either any limitation of the general freedom of human action, or any disqualification or disparity of privilege affecting one person or kind of persons, as compared with others. The à priori presumption is in favour of freedom and impartiality. It is held that there should be no restraint not required by the general good, and that the law should be no respecter of persons, but should treat all alike, save where dissimilarity of treatment is required by positive reasons, either of justice or of policy. But of none of these rules of evidence will the benefit be allowed to those who maintain the opinion I profess. It is useless for me to say that those who maintain the doctrine that men have a right to command and women are under an obligation to obey, or that men are fit for government and women unfit, are on the affirmative side of the question, and that they are bound to show positive evidence for the assertions, or submit to their rejection. It is equally unavailing for me to say that those who deny to women any freedom or privilege rightly allowed to men, having the double presumption against them that they are opposing freedom and recommending partiality, must be held to the strictest proof of their case, and unless their success be such as to exclude all doubt, the judgment ought to go against them. These would be thought good pleas in any common case; but they will not be thought so in this instance. Before I could hope to make any impression, I should be expected not only to answer all that has ever been said by those who take the other side of the question, but to imagine all that could be said by them—to find them in reasons, as well as answer all I find: and besides refuting all arguments for the affirmative, I shall be called upon for invincible positive arguments to prove a negative. And even if I could do all this, and leave the opposite party with a host of unanswered arguments against them, and not a single unrefuted one on their side, I should be thought to have done little; for a cause supported on the one hand by universal usage, and on the other by so great a preponderance of popular sentiment, is supposed to have a presumption in its favour, superior to any conviction which an appeal to reason has power to produce in any intellects but those of a high class.

People who challenge an almost universal opinion face difficulties in every respect. They must be very lucky as well as unusually capable to get a hearing at all. They have more trouble getting a trial than other people in court have getting a verdict. If they do force people to hear them, they face entirely different standards of reasoning from everyone else. In all other cases, the burden of proof is supposed to rest with those making an affirmative claim. If someone is accused of murder, the accusers must prove the accused person's guilt. The accused person does not have to prove their innocence. Suppose people disagree about whether some historical event occurred, and the question does not stir strong feelings among people generally. The Siege of Troy is one example. Those who say the event happened must present their evidence before those who disagree can be required to respond. And those who disagree never have to do more than show that the evidence presented is worthless. In practical matters, too, the burden of proof is supposed to rest with those who oppose freedom. These are people who argue for any restriction or prohibition. They may seek to limit people's general freedom to act. Or they may seek to deny rights or grant unequal privileges to one person or group compared with others. The starting assumption favors freedom and equal treatment. It is generally accepted that no restriction should exist unless the common good requires it. The law should not favor particular people but should treat everyone alike. Different treatment is justified only when specific reasons of justice or policy require it. But people who hold the view I defend are denied the benefit of all these rules of evidence. Some people claim that men have a right to command and women a duty to obey. Or they claim that men are fit to govern and women are not. Pointing out that these people are making affirmative claims does me no good. They should have to provide positive evidence for their claims or accept their rejection. Nor does it help to point out the position of those who deny women freedoms or privileges rightly granted to men. Two presumptions stand against these people: they oppose freedom and advocate unequal treatment. They must therefore meet the strictest standard of proof. Unless they prove their case beyond all doubt, the judgment should go against them. These arguments would be considered sound in any ordinary case. But they will not be considered sound in this one. Before I could hope to make any impression, I would be expected to answer every argument the other side has ever made. I would also have to imagine every argument they could make. I would have to supply their reasons as well as answer every reason I find. Besides refuting every argument for their position, I would have to produce irrefutable positive arguments to prove a negative. And even if I could do all this, I would be thought to have accomplished little. The other side might face a host of unanswered arguments against them, with not one unrefuted argument supporting their position. Yet their cause is supported both by universal practice and by an overwhelming weight of popular feeling. Such support is assumed to create a presumption in their favor stronger than any conviction that reason can produce. Only minds of a high order are thought capable of being convinced otherwise by reason.

I do not mention these difficulties to complain of them; first, because it would be useless; they are inseparable from having to contend through people's understandings against the hostility of their feelings and practical tendencies: and truly the understandings of the majority of mankind would need to be much better cultivated than has ever yet been the case, before they can be asked to place such reliance in their own power of estimating arguments, as to give up practical principles in which they have been born and bred and which are the basis of much of the existing order of the world, at the first argumentative attack which they are not capable of logically resisting. I do not therefore quarrel with them for having too little faith in argument, but for having too much faith in custom and the general feeling. It is one of the characteristic prejudices of the reaction of the nineteenth century against the eighteenth, to accord to the unreasoning elements in human nature the infallibility which the eighteenth century is supposed to have ascribed to the reasoning elements. For the apotheosis of Reason we have substituted that of Instinct; and we call everything instinct which we find in ourselves and for which we cannot trace any rational foundation. This idolatry, infinitely more degrading than the other, and the most pernicious of the false worships of the present day, of all of which it is now the main support, will probably hold its ground until it gives way before a sound psychology, laying bare the real root of much that is bowed down to as the intention of Nature and the ordinance of God. As regards the present question, I am willing to accept the unfavourable conditions which the prejudice assigns to me. I consent that established custom, and the general feeling, should be deemed conclusive against me, unless that custom and feeling from age to age can be shown to have owed their existence to other causes than their soundness, and to have derived their power from the worse rather than the better parts of human nature. I am willing that judgment should go against me, unless I can show that my judge has been tampered with. The concession is not so great as it might appear; for to prove this, is by far the easiest portion of my task.

I do not mention these difficulties to complain about them. First, complaining would be useless. These difficulties are unavoidable when we appeal to people’s reason against the hostility of their feelings and habitual behavior. Most people’s reasoning abilities would need far more training than they have ever received before we could expect such confidence. They would have to trust their own ability to judge arguments enough to abandon principles they were raised with. Those principles also underpin much of the world’s existing order. We cannot expect people to abandon them at the first argument they cannot logically refute. So I do not criticize people for having too little faith in argument. I criticize them for having too much faith in custom and prevailing opinion. One characteristic prejudice of the nineteenth century’s reaction against the eighteenth is to treat unreasoning human impulses as infallible. The eighteenth century supposedly gave that same authority to reason. We have replaced the worship of Reason with the worship of Instinct. And we call everything within ourselves instinct when we cannot trace any rational basis for it. This idolatry is infinitely more degrading than the worship of reason. It is also the most harmful of today’s false forms of worship, and now the chief support of them all. This worship of instinct will probably persist until a sound understanding of the mind displaces it. Such an understanding would expose the true origins of much that people revere as Nature’s intention and God’s command. On the question before us, I am willing to accept the unfavorable conditions that prejudice imposes on me. I agree that established custom and prevailing opinion should count as decisive evidence against me, unless I can show otherwise. I must show that, throughout the ages, custom and opinion have existed for reasons other than their soundness. I must also show that their power has come from the worse, rather than the better, parts of human nature. I am willing to lose my case unless I can show that my judge has been tampered with. This concession is not as great as it might seem. Proving that my judge has been tampered with is by far the easiest part of my task.

The generality of a practice is in some cases a strong presumption that it is, or at all events once was, conducive to laudable ends. This is the case, when the practice was first adopted, or afterwards kept up, as a means to such ends, and was grounded on experience of the mode in which they could be most effectually attained. If the authority of men over women, when first established, had been the result of a conscientious comparison between different modes of constituting the government of society; if, after trying various other modes of social organization—the government of women over men, equality between the two, and such mixed and divided modes of government as might be invented—it had been decided, on the testimony of experience, that the mode in which women are wholly under the rule of men, having no share at all in public concerns, and each in private being under the legal obligation of obedience to the man with whom she has associated her destiny, was the arrangement most conducive to the happiness and well being of both; its general adoption might then be fairly thought to be some evidence that, at the time when it was adopted, if was the best: though even then the considerations which recommended it may, like so many other primeval social facts of the greatest importance, have subsequently, in the course of ages, ceased to exist. But the state of the case is in every respect the reverse of this. In the first place, the opinion in favour of the present system, which entirely subordinates the weaker sex to the stronger, rests upon theory only; for there never has been trial made of any other: so that experience, in the sense in which it is vulgarly opposed to theory, cannot be pretended to have pronounced any verdict. And in the second place, the adoption of this system of inequality never was the result of deliberation, or forethought, or any social ideas, or any notion whatever of what conduced to the benefit of humanity or the good order of society. It arose simply from the fact that from the very earliest twilight of human society, every woman (owing to the value attached to her by men, combined with her inferiority in muscular strength) was found in a state of bondage to some man. Laws and systems of polity always begin by recognising the relations they find already existing between individuals. They convert what was a mere physical fact into a legal right, give it the sanction of society, and principally aim at the substitution of public and organized means of asserting and protecting these rights, instead of the irregular and lawless conflict of physical strength. Those who had already been compelled to obedience became in this manner legally bound to it. Slavery, from being a mere affair of force between the master and the slave, became regularized and a matter of compact among the masters, who, binding themselves to one another for common protection, guaranteed by their collective strength the private possessions of each, including his slaves. In early times, the great majority of the male sex were slaves, as well as the whole of the female. And many ages elapsed, some of them ages of high cultivation, before any thinker was bold enough to question the rightfulness, and the absolute social necessity, either of the one slavery or of the other. By degrees such thinkers did arise: and (the general progress of society assisting) the slavery of the male sex has, in all the countries of Christian Europe at least (though, in one of them, only within the last few years) been at length abolished, and that of the female sex has been gradually changed into a milder form of dependence. But this dependence, as it exists at present, is not an original institution, taking a fresh start from considerations of justice and social expediency—it is the primitive state of slavery lasting on, through successive mitigations and modifications occasioned by the same causes which have softened the general manners, and brought all human relations more under the control of justice and the influence of humanity. It has not lost the taint of its brutal origin. No presumption in its favour, therefore, can be drawn from the fact of its existence. The only such presumption which it could be supposed to have, must be grounded on its having lasted till now, when so many other things which came down from the same odious source have been done away with. And this, indeed, is what makes it strange to ordinary ears, to hear it asserted that the inequality of rights between men and women has no other source than the law of the strongest.

A widespread practice can sometimes provide strong grounds for believing that it serves good purposes, or once did. This is true when people first adopted the practice, or later maintained it, as a means to those purposes. The practice must also have rested on experience showing how those purposes could best be achieved. Suppose men's authority over women had originally resulted from a careful, conscientious comparison of different ways to organize society. Suppose people had tried women ruling men, equality between the sexes, and whatever mixed or divided arrangements they could devise. Suppose experience had then led them to choose complete male rule as best for the happiness and well-being of both sexes. Under that arrangement, women would have no part in public affairs. In private life, each woman would be legally required to obey the man with whom she had joined her life. If that were how the arrangement began, its widespread adoption might reasonably count as some evidence in its favor. It might suggest that the arrangement was best when adopted. Even then, the reasons supporting it might have disappeared over the centuries. The same has happened with many other ancient social arrangements of the greatest importance. But the facts are, in every respect, the opposite. First, support for the present system, which completely subjects the weaker sex to the stronger, rests on theory alone. No other system has ever been tried. So experience, in the sense commonly contrasted with theory, cannot be claimed to have delivered any verdict. Second, this system of inequality was never adopted through deliberation, foresight, or any ideas about how society should work. Nor did it arise from any thought about humanity's welfare or society's good order. It arose simply because, from the earliest beginnings of human society, every woman was held in bondage to some man. This resulted from the value men placed on women, combined with women's lesser muscular strength. Laws and systems of government always begin by recognizing relationships already existing between individuals. They turn what was merely a physical fact into a legal right and give it society's approval. Their main aim is to replace irregular, lawless struggles of physical strength with public, organized ways of enforcing those rights. People already forced to obey thus became legally bound to obey. Slavery had been merely a matter of force between master and slave. It became an established institution, upheld by agreements among masters. The masters pledged mutual protection and used their combined strength to guarantee each man's private possessions, including his slaves. In early times, the great majority of men were slaves, as were all women. Many ages passed, including some highly cultured ages, before any thinker dared to question either form of slavery. No thinker challenged either its rightfulness or its absolute necessity to society. Gradually, such thinkers did emerge, helped by society's general progress. Slavery among men was eventually abolished, at least in all the countries of Christian Europe. In one of those countries, however, abolition came only within the last few years. Women's slavery, meanwhile, has gradually become a milder form of dependence. But women's present dependence is not a new institution, founded afresh on considerations of justice and social benefit. It is the original state of slavery, surviving through a series of changes that have made it less harsh. Those changes came from the same causes that have softened behavior generally. Those causes have also brought all human relationships more under the rule of justice and the influence of humanity. Women's dependence has not lost the stain of its brutal origins. Its mere existence therefore gives no grounds for assuming anything in its favor. Any such grounds would have to rest on its survival until now. So many other things inherited from the same hateful source have been abolished. That survival is indeed why people find one claim so strange: unequal rights between men and women come from nothing but the rule of the strongest.

That this statement should have the effect of a paradox, is in some respects creditable to the progress of civilization, and the improvement of the moral sentiments of mankind. We now live—that is to say, one or two of the most advanced nations of the world now live—in a state in which the law of the strongest seems to be entirely abandoned as the regulating principle of the world's affairs: nobody professes it, and, as regards most of the relations between human beings, nobody is permitted to practise it. When any one succeeds in doing so, it is under cover of some pretext which gives him the semblance of having some general social interest on his side. This being the ostensible state of things, people flatter themselves that the rule of mere force is ended; that the law of the strongest cannot be the reason of existence of anything which has remained in full operation down to the present time. However any of our present institutions may have begun, it can only, they think, have been preserved to this period of advanced civilization by a well-grounded feeling of its adaptation to human nature, and conduciveness to the general good. They do not understand the great vitality and durability of institutions which place right on the side of might; how intensely they are clung to; how the good as well as the bad propensities and sentiments of those who have power in their hands, become identified with retaining it; how slowly these bad institutions give way, one at a time, the weakest first, beginning with those which are least interwoven with the daily habits of life; and how very rarely those who have obtained legal power because they first had physical, have ever lost their hold of it until the physical power had passed over to the other side. Such shifting of the physical force not having taken place in the case of women; this fact, combined with all the peculiar and characteristic features of the particular case, made it certain from the first that this branch of the system of right founded on might, though softened in its most atrocious features at an earlier period than several of the others, would be the very last to disappear. It was inevitable that this one case of a social relation grounded on force, would survive through generations of institutions grounded on equal justice, an almost solitary exception to the general character of their laws and customs; but which, so long as it does not proclaim its own origin, and as discussion has not brought out its true character, is not felt to jar with modern civilization, any more than domestic slavery among the Greeks jarred with their notion of themselves as a free people.

That this statement should seem paradoxical reflects well, in some respects, on civilization’s progress and humanity’s improving moral feelings. We now live in a society where the rule of the strongest seems entirely abandoned as the guiding principle of human affairs. More precisely, one or two of the world’s most advanced nations now live this way. Nobody openly supports that rule, and in most human relationships, nobody is allowed to practice it. Anyone who succeeds in doing so uses some pretext that makes him appear to serve a broader social interest. Because this is how things appear, people flatter themselves that rule by force has ended. They believe that nothing still fully operating today can owe its continued existence to the rule of the strongest. Whatever the origins of our present institutions, people think those institutions have survived into advanced civilization for a sound reason. They believe their survival rests on a well-founded sense that these institutions suit human nature and promote the common good. People do not understand how resilient and lasting institutions can be when they put right on the side of might. They do not understand how fiercely people cling to such institutions. Both the good and bad impulses and feelings of those in power become bound up with keeping that power. These bad institutions give way slowly, one at a time, with the weakest falling first. The first to fall are those least bound up with everyday habits. People also fail to understand how rarely those who gained legal power through physical strength have lost their grip on it. Almost always, they have held on until physical power passed to the other side. No such shift in physical power has occurred in the case of women. Combined with all the distinctive features of women’s situation, this fact made the outcome certain from the beginning. This part of the system that bases right on might would be the very last to disappear. Yet its most brutal features were softened earlier than those of several other parts of that system. Inevitably, this one social relationship founded on force would survive through generations of institutions founded on equal justice. It would remain an almost solitary exception to the general character of those societies’ laws and customs. But as long as this relationship does not reveal its origins, and discussion has not exposed its true character, people see no conflict with modern civilization. In the same way, the Greeks saw no conflict between slavery in their households and their view of themselves as a free people.

The truth is, that people of the present and the last two or three generations have lost all practical sense of the primitive condition of humanity; and only the few who have studied history accurately, or have much frequented the parts of the world occupied by the living representatives of ages long past, are able to form any mental picture of what society then was. People are not aware how entirely, in former ages, the law of superior strength was the rule of life; how publicly and openly it was avowed, I do not say cynically or shamelessly—for these words imply a feeling that there was something in it to be ashamed of, and no such notion could find a place in the faculties of any person in those ages, except a philosopher or a saint. History gives a cruel experience of human nature, in shewing how exactly the regard due to the life, possessions, and entire earthly happiness of any class of persons, was measured by what they had the power of enforcing; how all who made any resistance to authorities that had arms in their hands, however dreadful might be the provocation, had not only the law of force but all other laws, and all the notions of social obligation against them; and in the eyes of those whom they resisted, were not only guilty of crime, but of the worst of all crimes, deserving the most cruel chastisement which human beings could inflict. The first small vestige of a feeling of obligation in a superior to acknowledge any right in inferiors, began when he had been induced, for convenience, to make some promise to them. Though these promises, even when sanctioned by the most solemn oaths, were for many ages revoked or violated on the most trifling provocation or temptation, it is probable that this, except by persons of still worse than the average morality, was seldom done without some twinges of conscience. The ancient republics, being mostly grounded from the first upon some kind of mutual compact, or at any rate formed by an union of persons not very unequal in strength, afforded, in consequence, the first instance of a portion of human relations fenced round, and placed under the dominion of another law than that of force. And though the original law of force remained in full operation between them and their slaves, and also (except so far as limited by express compact) between a commonwealth and its subjects, or other independent commonwealths; the banishment of that primitive law even from so narrow a field, commenced the regeneration of human nature, by giving birth to sentiments of which experience soon demonstrated the immense value even for material interests, and which thenceforward only required to be enlarged, not created. Though slaves were no part of the commonwealth, it was in the free states that slaves were first felt to have rights as human beings. The Stoics were, I believe, the first (except so far as the Jewish law constitutes an exception) who taught as a part of morality that men were bound by moral obligations to their slaves. No one, after Christianity became ascendant, could ever again have been a stranger to this belief, in theory; nor, after the rise of the Catholic Church, was it ever without persons to stand up for it. Yet to enforce it was the most arduous task which Christianity ever had to perform. For more than a thousand years the Church kept up the contest, with hardly any perceptible success. It was not for want of power over men's minds. Its power was prodigious. It could make kings and nobles resign their most valued possessions to enrich the Church. It could make thousands, in the prime of life and the height of worldly advantages, shut themselves up in convents to work out their salvation by poverty, fasting, and prayer. It could send hundreds of thousands across land and sea, Europe and Asia, to give their lives for the deliverance of the Holy Sepulchre. It could make kings relinquish wives who were the object of their passionate attachment, because the Church declared that they were within the seventh (by our calculation the fourteenth) degree of relationship. All this it did; but it could not make men fight less with one another, nor tyrannize less cruelly over the serfs, and when they were able, over burgesses. It could not make them renounce either of the applications of force; force militant, or force triumphant. This they could never be induced to do until they were themselves in their turn compelled by superior force. Only by the growing power of kings was an end put to fighting except between kings, or competitors for kingship; only by the growth of a wealthy and warlike bourgeoisie in the fortified towns, and of a plebeian infantry which proved more powerful in the field than the undisciplined chivalry, was the insolent tyranny of the nobles over the bourgeoisie and peasantry brought within some bounds. It was persisted in not only until, but long after, the oppressed had obtained a power enabling them often to take conspicuous vengeance; and on the Continent much of it continued to the time of the French Revolution, though in England the earlier and better organization of the democratic classes put an end to it sooner, by establishing equal laws and free national institutions.

The truth is that people today, and in the last two or three generations, have lost touch with humanity’s earliest condition. Only a few can picture what society was like then. These are people who have studied history closely, or spent much time in parts of the world still resembling long-past ages. People do not realize how completely the rule of the strongest governed life in earlier times. Nor do they realize how publicly and openly people accepted that rule. I do not say cynically or shamelessly. Those words suggest some awareness that there was something to be ashamed of. In those ages, such an idea could not enter anyone’s mind, except a philosopher’s or a saint’s. History offers a cruel lesson about human nature. The respect given to any group’s lives, possessions, and entire earthly happiness exactly matched their power to demand it. Anyone who resisted armed authorities faced not only force, but every other law and every idea of social duty. This was true however terrible the provocation. To those they resisted, they were guilty not merely of a crime, but of the worst of all crimes. They deserved the cruelest punishment human beings could inflict. The first faint sense that a superior owed any recognition of rights to inferiors began with promises made for convenience. For many ages, people withdrew or broke these promises at the slightest provocation or temptation. They did so even when the promises were backed by the most solemn oaths. Still, people probably seldom broke them without some pangs of conscience, unless their morality was even worse than average. Most ancient republics were founded on some kind of mutual agreement. At least, they were formed by people who were not very unequal in strength. As a result, they provided the first example of some human relationships protected by a law other than force. Yet the original rule of force remained fully in effect between free citizens and their slaves. It also governed relations between a commonwealth and its subjects, or between independent commonwealths, except where explicit agreements limited it. Still, removing that primitive rule from even this narrow area began the moral renewal of human nature. It gave rise to feelings whose immense value, even for material interests, experience soon demonstrated. From then on, these feelings needed only to be extended, not created. Although slaves were not members of the commonwealth, people first recognized their rights as human beings in the free states. The Stoics were, I believe, the first to teach that morality imposed duties toward slaves. Jewish law may provide an exception. Once Christianity became dominant, no one could ever again have been unfamiliar with this belief, at least in theory. After the rise of the Catholic Church, there were always people prepared to defend it. Yet putting this belief into practice was the hardest task Christianity ever faced. For more than a thousand years, the Church continued the struggle, with hardly any noticeable success. This was not because the Church lacked power over people’s minds. Its power was enormous. It could make kings and nobles surrender their most valued possessions to enrich the Church. It could make thousands withdraw into convents in the prime of life, while enjoying the greatest worldly advantages. There they sought salvation through poverty, fasting, and prayer. It could send hundreds of thousands across land and sea, through Europe and Asia, to die liberating the Holy Sepulchre. It could make kings give up wives they passionately loved because the Church declared them too closely related. They were within the seventh degree of relationship, or the fourteenth by our way of counting. The Church did all this. But it could not make men fight one another less, or rule their serfs less cruelly. Nor could it stop them from tyrannizing over townspeople when they had the power. It could not make them give up either use of force: force in battle or force after victory. They could never be persuaded to give up either until greater force compelled them in turn. Only the growing power of kings ended fighting, except between kings or rivals for the throne. Only other rising powers placed some limits on the nobles’ arrogant tyranny over the bourgeoisie and peasantry. One was a wealthy, warlike bourgeoisie in fortified towns. The other was an infantry of common people, who proved stronger in battle than the undisciplined mounted knights. The nobles continued their tyranny long after the oppressed gained enough power to take striking revenge on many occasions. On the Continent, much of that tyranny lasted until the French Revolution. In England, however, the earlier and better organization of the democratic classes ended it sooner. They did so by establishing equal laws and free national institutions.

If people are mostly so little aware how completely, during the greater part of the duration of our species, the law of force was the avowed rule of general conduct, any other being only a special and exceptional consequence of peculiar ties—and from how very recent a date it is that the affairs of society in general have been even pretended to be regulated according to any moral law; as little do people remember or consider, how institutions and customs which never had any ground but the law of force, last on into ages and states of general opinion which never would have permitted their first establishment. Less than forty years ago, Englishmen might still by law hold human beings in bondage as saleable property: within the present century they might kidnap them and carry them off, and work them literally to death. This absolutely extreme case of the law of force, condemned by those who can tolerate almost every other form of arbitrary power, and which, of all others, presents features the most revolting to the feelings of all who look at it from an impartial position, was the law of civilized and Christian England within the memory of persons now living: and in one half of Anglo-Saxon America three or four years ago, not only did slavery exist, but the slave trade, and the breeding of slaves expressly for it, was a general practice between slave states. Yet not only was there a greater strength of sentiment against it, but, in England at least, a less amount either of feeling or of interest in favour of it, than of any other of the customary abuses of force: for its motive was the love of gain, unmixed and undisguised; and those who profited by it were a very small numerical fraction of the country, while the natural feeling of all who were not personally interested in it, was unmitigated abhorrence. So extreme an instance makes it almost superfluous to refer to any other: but consider the long duration of absolute monarchy. In England at present it is the almost universal conviction that military despotism is a case of the law of force, having no other origin or justification. Yet in all the great nations of Europe except England it either still exists, or has only just ceased to exist, and has even now a strong party favourable to it in all ranks of the people, especially among persons of station and consequence. Such is the power of an established system, even when far from universal; when not only in almost every period of history there have been great and well-known examples of the contrary system, but these have almost invariably been afforded by the most illustrious and most prosperous communities. In this case, too, the possessor of the undue power, the person directly interested in it, is only one person, while those who are subject to it and suffer from it are literally all the rest. The yoke is naturally and necessarily humiliating to all persons, except the one who is on the throne, together with, at most, the one who expects to succeed to it. How different are these cases from that of the power of men over women! I am not now prejudging the question of its justifiableness. I am showing how vastly more permanent it could not but be, even if not justifiable, than these other dominations which have nevertheless lasted down to our own time. Whatever gratification of pride there is in the possession of power, and whatever personal interest in its exercise, is in this case not confined to a limited class, but common to the whole male sex. Instead of being, to most of its supporters, a thing desirable chiefly in the abstract, or, like the political ends usually contended for by factious, of little private importance to any but the leaders; it comes home to the person and hearth of every male head of a family, and of every one who looks forward to being so. The clodhopper exercises, or is to exercise, his share of the power equally with the highest nobleman. And the case is that in which the desire of power is the strongest: for every one who desires power, desires it most over those who are nearest to him, with whom his life is passed, with whom he has most concerns in common, and in whom any independence of his authority is oftenest likely to interfere with his individual preferences. If, in the other cases specified, powers manifestly grounded only on force, and having so much less to support them, are so slowly and with so much difficulty got rid of, much more must it be so with this, even if it rests on no better foundation than those. We must consider, too, that the possessors of the power have facilities in this case, greater than in any other, to prevent any uprising against it. Every one of the subjects lives under the very eye, and almost, it may be said, in the hands, of one of the masters—in closer intimacy with him than with any of her fellow-subjects; with no means of combining against him, no power of even locally over-mastering him, and, on the other hand, with the strongest motives for seeking his favour and avoiding to give him offence. In struggles for political emancipation, everybody knows how often its champions are bought off by bribes, or daunted by terrors. In the case of women, each individual of the subject-class is in a chronic state of bribery and intimidation combined. In setting up the standard of resistance, a large number of the leaders, and still more of the followers, must make an almost complete sacrifice of the pleasures or the alleviations of their own individual lot. If ever any system of privilege and enforced subjection had its yoke tightly riveted on the necks of those who are kept down by it, this has. I have not yet shown that it is a wrong system: but every one who is capable of thinking on the subject must see that even if it is, it was certain to outlast all other forms of unjust authority. And when some of the grossest of the other forms still exist in many civilized countries, and have only recently been got rid of in others, it would be strange if that which is so much the deepest-rooted had yet been perceptibly shaken anywhere. There is more reason to wonder that the protests and testimonies against it should have been so numerous and so weighty as they are.

Most people hardly realize how completely force governed human conduct for most of our species’ history. Force was the openly accepted rule. Any other rule was a special exception arising from particular ties between people. Only very recently have people even claimed that society’s affairs should follow any moral law. People are equally unlikely to remember or consider how long institutions and customs founded solely on force can survive. They persist into ages and climates of opinion that would never have allowed them to begin. Less than forty years ago, Englishmen could still legally hold human beings in slavery as property for sale. Within the present century, they could kidnap people, carry them away, and literally work them to death. Slavery is the most extreme example of the rule of force. Even people who tolerate almost every other form of arbitrary power condemn slavery. Of all such forms of power, slavery most revolts the feelings of everyone who views it impartially. Yet slavery was legal in civilized and Christian England within the memory of people still living. And in one half of Anglo-Saxon America, slavery existed only three or four years ago. Trading enslaved people between slave states was also common, as was breeding them expressly for that trade. Yet opposition to slavery was stronger than opposition to any other customary abuse of force. And, at least in England, slavery had less support from either personal feeling or self-interest than any other such abuse. The motive for slavery was the love of profit, pure and undisguised. Those who profited were a very small fraction of the country’s population. Everyone without a personal interest in slavery naturally felt complete horror at it. Such an extreme example makes almost any other unnecessary. But consider how long absolute monarchy has lasted. In England today, almost everyone believes that military despotism rests on force, with no other origin or justification. Yet military despotism either still exists or has only just ended in every great European nation except England. Even now, it has strong supporters in every social rank, especially among people of high standing and influence. Such is the power of an established system, even one that is far from universal. Almost every period of history has offered great and well-known examples of the opposite system. And almost invariably, those examples have come from the most distinguished and prosperous communities. In absolute monarchy, too, only one person possesses this excessive power and has a direct interest in keeping it. Literally everyone else is subject to that power and suffers from it. Such subjection is naturally and necessarily humiliating to everyone except the person on the throne. At most, the person who expects to inherit the throne is also exempt. How different these examples are from men’s power over women! I am not yet deciding whether that power is justified. I am showing how much longer it would inevitably last, even if unjustified, than those other forms of domination. Yet those other forms have survived into our own time. Whatever satisfaction power gives to pride, and whatever personal stake its exercise creates, here belong to the whole male sex. They are not confined to a small class. For most supporters, men’s power over women is not something desirable mainly in theory. Nor does it resemble the political goals that factions usually fight over, which matter little personally to anyone but their leaders. Instead, this power reaches directly into the personal and home life of every male head of a family. The same is true of every man who expects to become one. The farm laborer exercises, or expects to exercise, his share of this power just as much as the highest nobleman. And this is the situation in which the desire for power is strongest. Everyone who wants power wants it most over those closest to him. These are the people he lives with and shares the most concerns with. Their independence from his authority is most likely to interfere with his personal wishes. The other powers I have mentioned plainly rest on force alone, and have so much less to support them. Yet ending those powers takes so long and proves so difficult. How much harder must ending men’s power over women be, even if its foundation is no better than theirs. We must also consider how much more easily those holding this power can prevent resistance than holders of any other power. Every woman under this rule lives directly under the eye, and almost, one might say, in the hands of a master. She lives more intimately with him than with any other woman subject to the same rule. She has no means of joining with others against him, or of overpowering him even in her own home. At the same time, she has the strongest motives to seek his favor and avoid offending him. In struggles for political freedom, everyone knows how often champions of freedom are bought off or frightened into submission. Among women, every member of the subordinate class constantly faces both bribery and intimidation. To raise the banner of resistance, many leaders, and still more followers, must make an almost complete personal sacrifice. They must give up the pleasures or comforts that ease their own lives. If any system of privilege and enforced subjection ever fastened its yoke tightly around its subjects’ necks, this one has. I have not yet shown that this system is wrong. But anyone capable of thinking about the question must recognize that, even if wrong, it would inevitably outlast every other unjust authority. Some of the worst of those other forms still exist in many civilized countries. Others have only recently been abolished elsewhere. So it would be strange if the most deeply rooted system had already been noticeably shaken anywhere. There is more reason to wonder that the protests and testimony against it have been so numerous and so powerful.

Some will object, that a comparison cannot fairly be made between the government of the male sex and the forms of unjust power which I have adduced in illustration of it, since these are arbitrary, and the effect of mere usurpation, while it on the contrary is natural. But was there ever any domination which did not appear natural to those who possessed it? There was a time when the division of mankind into two classes, a small one of masters and a numerous one of slaves, appeared, even to the most cultivated minds, to be a natural, and the only natural, condition of the human race. No less an intellect, and one which contributed no less to the progress of human thought, than Aristotle, held this opinion without doubt or misgiving; and rested it on the same premises on which the same assertion in regard to the dominion of men over women is usually based, namely that there are different natures among mankind, free natures, and slave natures; that the Greeks were of a free nature, the barbarian races of Thracians and Asiatics of a slave nature. But why need I go back to Aristotle? Did not the slaveowners of the Southern United States maintain the same doctrine, with all the fanaticism with which men cling to the theories that justify their passions and legitimate their personal interests? Did they not call heaven and earth to witness that the dominion of the white man over the black is natural, that the black race is by nature incapable of freedom, and marked out for slavery? some even going so far as to say that the freedom of manual labourers is an unnatural order of things anywhere. Again, the theorists of absolute monarchy have always affirmed it to be the only natural form of government; issuing from the patriarchal, which was the primitive and spontaneous form of society, framed on the model of the paternal, which is anterior to society itself, and, as they contend, the most natural authority of all. Nay, for that matter, the law of force itself, to those who could not plead any other, has always seemed the most natural of all grounds for the exercise of authority. Conquering races hold it to be Nature's own dictate that the conquered should obey the conquerors, or, as they euphoniously paraphrase it, that the feebler and more unwarlike races should submit to the braver and manlier. The smallest acquaintance with human life in the middle ages, shows how supremely natural the dominion of the feudal nobility over men of low condition appeared to the nobility themselves, and how unnatural the conception seemed, of a person of the inferior class claiming equality with them, or exercising authority over them. It hardly seemed less so to the class held in subjection. The emancipated serfs and burgesses, even in their most vigorous struggles, never made any pretension to a share of authority; they only demanded more or less of limitation to the power of tyrannizing over them. So true is it that unnatural generally means only uncustomary, and that everything which is usual appears natural. The subjection of women to men being a universal custom, any departure from it quite naturally appears unnatural. But how entirely, even in this case, the feeling is dependent on custom, appears by ample experience. Nothing so much astonishes the people of distant parts of the world, when they first learn anything about England, as to be told that it is under a queen: the thing seems to them so unnatural as to be almost incredible. To Englishmen this does not seem in the least degree unnatural, because they are used to it; but they do feel it unnatural that women should be soldiers or members of parliament. In the feudal ages, on the contrary, war and politics were not thought unnatural to women, because not unusual; it seemed natural that women of the privileged classes should be of manly character, inferior in nothing but bodily strength to their husbands and fathers. The independence of women seemed rather less unnatural to the Greeks than to other ancients, on account of the fabulous Amazons (whom they believed to be historical), and the partial example afforded by the Spartan women; who, though no less subordinate by law than in other Greek states, were more free in fact, and being trained to bodily exercises in the same manner with men, gave ample proof that they were not naturally disqualified for them. There can be little doubt that Spartan experience suggested to Plato, among many other of his doctrines, that of the social and political equality of the two sexes.

Some will object that men’s rule cannot fairly be compared with the unjust forms of power I have used as examples. Those forms of power, they say, are arbitrary and based on nothing but seized authority. Men’s rule over women, by contrast, is natural. But has any form of domination ever seemed unnatural to those who held power? Once, humanity’s division into a few masters and many slaves seemed natural even to the most educated minds. Indeed, they saw slavery as the only natural condition for humanity. Aristotle held this view without doubt or hesitation. Few minds have been greater or contributed more to the progress of human thought. His reasoning was the same as the reasoning usually offered to justify men’s rule over women. He believed that people have different natures: some are born free, others are born slaves. The Greeks, he thought, were naturally free, while the barbarian peoples, the Thracians and Asiatics, were naturally slaves. But why go back as far as Aristotle? Did not the slaveowners of the Southern United States defend the same doctrine? They showed all the fanaticism people display toward theories that justify their passions and legitimize their personal interests. Did they not call heaven and earth to witness that white people’s rule over black people was natural? They insisted that black people were naturally incapable of freedom and destined for slavery. Some even claimed that freedom for manual workers was unnatural anywhere. Again, defenders of absolute monarchy have always claimed that it is the only natural form of government. They argued that monarchy developed from patriarchal rule, the earliest form of society, which arose spontaneously. Patriarchal society, in turn, followed the model of a father’s authority. That authority existed before society itself and was, they maintained, the most natural authority of all. Indeed, those with no other justification have always considered force itself the most natural basis for authority. Conquering peoples believe Nature itself commands the conquered to obey their conquerors. Or, as they put it more sweetly, weaker and less warlike peoples should submit to braver and more manly ones. Even slight knowledge of medieval life shows how completely natural feudal nobles considered their rule over people of low rank. To those nobles, someone of a lower class claiming equality with them, or authority over them, seemed unnatural. Such claims seemed hardly less unnatural to the people under their rule. Even in their fiercest struggles, freed serfs and townspeople never claimed a share in power. They demanded only greater or lesser limits on the power to tyrannize over them. So true is it that unnatural generally means only unfamiliar, and that whatever is customary seems natural. Women’s subjection to men is a universal custom, so any departure from that custom quite naturally seems unnatural. Yet ample experience shows how completely, even here, this feeling depends on custom. When people in distant parts of the world first learn about England, nothing astonishes them more than its queen. Being ruled by a queen seems so unnatural to them that they can hardly believe it. English people find nothing unnatural about a queen because they are used to one. But they do find it unnatural for women to be soldiers or members of parliament. In the feudal ages, by contrast, war and politics were not considered unnatural for women, because women’s participation was not unusual. Women of the privileged classes were naturally expected to have a manly character. They were expected to be inferior to their husbands and fathers only in physical strength. Women’s independence seemed rather less unnatural to the Greeks than to other ancient peoples. One reason was the mythical Amazons, whom the Greeks believed had really existed. Another was the partial example provided by Spartan women. Although Spartan women were just as subordinate under the law as women in other Greek states, they were freer in practice. They also received the same physical training as men. Their performance gave ample proof that women were not naturally unsuited to such exercise. There can be little doubt that Spartan experience suggested many of Plato’s doctrines to him. Among them was the social and political equality of the sexes.

But, it will be said, the rule of men over women differs from all these others in not being a rule of force: it is accepted voluntarily; women make no complaint, and are consenting parties to it. In the first place, a great number of women do not accept it. Ever since there have been women able to make their sentiments known by their writings (the only mode of publicity which society permits to them), an increasing number of them have recorded protests against their present social condition: and recently many thousands of them, headed by the most eminent women known to the public, have petitioned Parliament for their admission to the Parliamentary Suffrage. The claim of women to be educated as solidly, and in the same branches of knowledge, as men, is urged with growing intensity, and with a great prospect of success; while the demand for their admission into professions and occupations hitherto closed against them, becomes every year more urgent. Though there are not in this country, as there are in the United States, periodical Conventions and an organized party to agitate for the Rights of Women, there is a numerous and active Society organized and managed by women, for the more limited object of obtaining the political franchise. Nor is it only in our own country and in America that women are beginning to protest, more or less collectively, against the disabilities under which they labour. France, and Italy, and Switzerland, and Russia now afford examples of the same thing. How many more women there are who silently cherish similar aspirations, no one can possibly know; but there are abundant tokens how many would cherish them, were they not so strenuously taught to repress them as contrary to the proprieties of their sex. It must be remembered, also, that no enslaved class ever asked for complete liberty at once. When Simon de Montfort called the deputies of the commons to sit for the first time in Parliament, did any of them dream of demanding that an assembly, elected by their constituents, should make and destroy ministries, and dictate to the king in affairs of state? No such thought entered into the imagination of the most ambitious of them. The nobility had already these pretensions; the commons pretended to nothing but to be exempt from arbitrary taxation, and from the gross individual oppression of the king's officers. It is a political law of nature that those who are under any power of ancient origin, never begin by complaining of the power itself, but only of its oppressive exercise. There is never any want of women who complain of ill usage by their husbands. There would be infinitely more, if complaint were not the greatest of all provocatives to a repetition and increase of the ill usage. It is this which frustrates all attempts to maintain the power but protect the woman against its abuses. In no other case (except that of a child) is the person who has been proved judicially to have suffered an injury, replaced under the physical power of the culprit who inflicted it. Accordingly wives, even in the most extreme and protracted cases of bodily ill usage, hardly ever dare avail themselves of the laws made for their protection: and if, in a moment of irrepressible indignation, or by the interference of neighbours, they are induced to do so, their whole effort afterwards is to disclose as little as they can, and to beg off their tyrant from his merited chastisement.

But some will say that men’s rule over women differs from all these other forms of rule. It does not rest on force. Women accept it voluntarily, make no complaint, and consent to it. First, a great many women do not accept it. Women have protested against their social position ever since they could express their views publicly through writing. Writing is the only way society allows women to make their views public. An increasing number have used it to record their protests. Recently, many thousands, led by the most prominent women known to the public, have petitioned Parliament for the parliamentary vote. The demand that women receive as thorough an education as men, in the same subjects, is growing stronger. It also has a strong chance of success. Meanwhile, the demand to enter professions and occupations previously closed to women grows more urgent every year. Unlike the United States, this country has no regular Conventions or organized party campaigning for the Rights of Women. But a large and active Society, organized and run by women, pursues the more limited goal of gaining voting rights. Nor are Britain and America the only countries where women are beginning to protest together against restrictions on their rights. France, Italy, Switzerland, and Russia now offer examples of such protests. No one can possibly know how many more women silently hold similar hopes. But there are abundant signs of how many would hold them without such forceful teaching to suppress them. Women are taught that these hopes are improper for their sex. We must also remember that no enslaved class has ever asked for complete freedom all at once. Simon de Montfort called representatives of the commons to sit in Parliament for the first time. Did any of them dream of demanding that an assembly elected by their constituents should appoint and dismiss governments? Did they imagine demanding that such an assembly should dictate to the king on matters of state? Even the most ambitious among them never imagined anything of the kind. The nobility already made these claims. The commons sought only freedom from arbitrary taxation and from severe personal oppression by the king’s officers. It is a natural law of politics that people subject to long-established power never begin by challenging that power itself. They complain only about its oppressive use. There is never any shortage of women who complain of mistreatment by their husbands. There would be infinitely more if complaining were not the strongest possible provocation to further and worse mistreatment. This danger defeats every attempt to preserve the husband’s power while protecting the woman from its abuse. In no other case, except a child’s, is someone legally proven to have suffered harm returned to the offender’s physical power. As a result, wives hardly ever dare use the laws intended to protect them. This is true even in the most extreme and prolonged cases of physical abuse. Sometimes, a moment of uncontrollable outrage or the intervention of neighbours prompts wives to use those laws. But afterward, all their efforts go toward revealing as little as possible and begging that their tyrant escape his deserved punishment.

All causes, social and natural, combine to make it unlikely that women should be collectively rebellious to the power of men. They are so far in a position different from all other subject classes, that their masters require something more from them than actual service. Men do not want solely the obedience of women, they want their sentiments. All men, except the most brutish, desire to have, in the woman most nearly connected with them, not a forced slave but a willing one, not a slave merely, but a favourite. They have therefore put everything in practice to enslave their minds. The masters of all other slaves rely, for maintaining obedience, on fear; either fear of themselves, or religious fears. The masters of women wanted more than simple obedience, and they turned the whole force of education to effect their purpose. All women are brought up from the very earliest years in the belief that their ideal of character is the very opposite to that of men; not self-will, and government by self-control, but submission, and yielding to the control of others. All the moralities tell them that it is the duty of women, and all the current sentimentalities that it is their nature, to live for others; to make complete abnegation of themselves, and to have no life but in their affections. And by their affections are meant the only ones they are allowed to have—those to the men with whom they are connected, or to the children who constitute an additional and indefeasible tie between them and a man. When we put together three things—first, the natural attraction between opposite sexes; secondly, the wife's entire dependence on the husband, every privilege or pleasure she has being either his gift, or depending entirely on his will; and lastly, that the principal object of human pursuit, consideration, and all objects of social ambition, can in general be sought or obtained by her only through him, it would be a miracle if the object of being attractive to men had not become the polar star of feminine education and formation of character. And, this great means of influence over the minds of women having been acquired, an instinct of selfishness made men avail themselves of it to the utmost as a means of holding women in subjection, by representing to them meekness, submissiveness, and resignation of all individual will into the hands of a man, as an essential part of sexual attractiveness. Can it be doubted that any of the other yokes which mankind have succeeded in breaking, would have subsisted till now if the same means had existed, and had been as sedulously used, to bow down their minds to it? If it had been made the object of the life of every young plebeian to find personal favour in the eyes of some patrician, of every young serf with some seigneur; if domestication with him, and a share of his personal affections, had been held out as the prize which they all should look out for, the most gifted and aspiring being able to reckon on the most desirable prizes; and if, when this prize had been obtained, they had been shut out by a wall of brass from all interests not centering in him, all feelings and desires but those which he shared or inculcated; would not serfs and seigneurs, plebeians and patricians, have been as broadly distinguished at this day as men and women are? and would not all but a thinker here and there, have believed the distinction to be a fundamental and unalterable fact in human nature?

All social and natural causes work together to make women unlikely to rebel collectively against men's power. In one respect, women's position differs from that of all other subject classes. Their masters demand more than service. Men do not want only women's obedience. They want women's feelings too. All men, except the most brutal, want the woman closest to them to be a willing slave, not a forced one. They want her to be not merely a slave, but a favorite. So men have done everything possible to enslave women's minds. The masters of all other slaves maintain obedience through fear, either fear of their masters or religious fears. Women's masters wanted more than simple obedience. So they used the full force of education to achieve their purpose. From their earliest years, all women are taught that their ideal character is the exact opposite of men's. Instead of having a will of their own and governing themselves through self-control, women should submit to others' control. All moral teachings tell women that their duty is to live for others. All fashionable sentimental beliefs tell women that living for others is their nature. Women are told to give themselves up completely and have no life beyond their affections. These affections mean only those women are allowed to have: love for the men in their lives or their children. The children form an additional bond between a woman and a man, one that cannot be broken. We must consider three things together. First, there is the natural attraction between the opposite sexes. Second, a wife depends entirely on her husband. Every privilege or pleasure she has is either his gift or depends entirely on his will. Finally, social standing is the main goal people pursue. A woman can generally seek or gain social standing, and every other object of social ambition, only through her husband. Given these three things, anything else would have been a miracle. Becoming attractive to men was bound to become the guiding star of women's education and character development. Once men had gained this powerful influence over women's minds, selfish instinct led them to exploit it fully. They used it to keep women in subjection. Men presented meekness, submission, and surrendering all personal will to a man as essential to sexual attractiveness. Humanity has broken free from other forms of oppression. Can anyone doubt those forms would still exist if the same methods had been available and used as diligently? Those methods would have trained people's minds to accept their oppression. Suppose every young plebeian's purpose in life had been to win the personal favor of some patrician. Suppose every young serf had been taught to seek the favor of some seigneur, or feudal lord. Suppose living with that superior and sharing his affection had been presented as the prize everyone should seek. The most gifted and ambitious could have expected the most desirable prizes. And suppose, after winning this prize, they had been cut off by an impenetrable wall from every interest beyond him. Suppose they had been allowed no feelings or desires except those he shared or taught them. Wouldn't serfs and seigneurs, plebeians and patricians, still be as sharply divided today as men and women are? And wouldn't everyone, except an occasional thinker, believe this division was a fundamental and unchangeable fact of human nature?

The preceding considerations are amply sufficient to show that custom, however universal it may be, affords in this case no presumption, and ought not to create any prejudice, in favour of the arrangements which place women in social and political subjection to men. But I may go farther, and maintain that the course of history, and the tendencies of progressive human society, afford not only no presumption in favour of this system of inequality of rights, but a strong one against it; and that, so far as the whole course of human improvement up to this time, the whole stream of modern tendencies, warrants any inference on the subject, it is, that this relic of the past is discordant with the future, and must necessarily disappear.

The arguments above are more than enough to show that custom, however universal, provides no justification in this case. Custom should not bias us toward arrangements that place women under men’s social and political authority. But I can go further. History and the direction of social progress offer no support for this system of unequal rights. Instead, they provide strong grounds for opposing it. The entire course of human progress so far, and all modern trends, point toward a conclusion about this system. As far as they allow us to judge, this relic of the past conflicts with the future and must disappear.

For, what is the peculiar character of the modern world—the difference which chiefly distinguishes modern institutions, modern social ideas, modern life itself, from those of times long past? It is, that human beings are no longer born to their place in life, and chained down by an inexorable bond to the place they are born to, but are free to employ their faculties, and such favourable chances as offer, to achieve the lot which may appear to them most desirable. Human society of old was constituted on a very different principle. All were born to a fixed social position, and were mostly kept in it by law, or interdicted from any means by which they could emerge from it. As some men are born white and others black, so some were born slaves and others freemen and citizens; some were born patricians, others plebeians; some were born feudal nobles, others commoners and roturiers. A slave or serf could never make himself free, nor, except by the will of his master, become so. In most European countries it was not till towards the close of the middle ages, and as a consequence of the growth of regal power, that commoners could be ennobled. Even among nobles, the eldest son was born the exclusive heir to the paternal possessions, and a long time elapsed before it was fully established that the father could disinherit him. Among the industrious classes, only those who were born members of a guild, or were admitted into it by its members, could lawfully practise their calling within its local limits; and nobody could practise any calling deemed important, in any but the legal manner—by processes authoritatively prescribed. Manufacturers have stood in the pillory for presuming to carry on their business by new and improved methods. In modern Europe, and most in those parts of it which have participated most largely in all other modern improvements, diametrically opposite doctrines now prevail. Law and government do not undertake to prescribe by whom any social or industrial operation shall or shall not be conducted, or what modes of conducting them shall be lawful. These things are left to the unfettered choice of individuals. Even the laws which required that workmen should serve an apprenticeship, have in this country been repealed: there being ample assurance that in all cases in which an apprenticeship is necessary, its necessity will suffice to enforce it. The old theory was, that the least possible should be left to the choice of the individual agent; that all he had to do should, as far as practicable, be laid down for him by superior wisdom. Left to himself he was sure to go wrong. The modern conviction, the fruit of a thousand years of experience, is, that things in which the individual is the person directly interested, never go right but as they are left to his own discretion; and that any regulation of them by authority, except to protect the rights of others, is sure to be mischievous. This conclusion, slowly arrived at, and not adopted until almost every possible application of the contrary theory had been made with disastrous result, now (in the industrial department) prevails universally in the most advanced countries, almost universally in all that have pretensions to any sort of advancement. It is not that all processes are supposed to be equally good, or all persons to be equally qualified for everything; but that freedom of individual choice is now known to be the only thing which procures the adoption of the best processes, and throws each operation into the hands of those who are best qualified for it. Nobody thinks it necessary to make a law that only a strong-armed man shall be a blacksmith. Freedom and competition suffice to make blacksmiths strong-armed men, because the weak-armed can earn more by engaging in occupations for which they are more fit. In consonance with this doctrine, it is felt to be an overstepping of the proper bounds of authority to fix beforehand, on some general presumption, that certain persons are not fit to do certain things. It is now thoroughly known and admitted that if some such presumptions exist, no such presumption is infallible. Even if it be well grounded in a majority of cases, which it is very likely not to be, there will be a minority of exceptional cases in which it does not hold: and in those it is both an injustice to the individuals, and a detriment to society, to place barriers in the way of their using their faculties for their own benefit and for that of others. In the cases, on the other hand, in which the unfitness is real, the ordinary motives of human conduct will on the whole suffice to prevent the incompetent person from making, or from persisting in, the attempt.

For what chiefly sets the modern world apart from the distant past? What distinguishes modern institutions, social ideas, and life itself? People are no longer born into a fixed place in life and bound to remain there. Instead, they are free to use their abilities and whatever favorable opportunities arise to pursue the life they find most desirable. Society in earlier times rested on a very different principle. Everyone was born into a fixed social position. Most were kept there by law or denied any means of rising above it. Just as some men are born white and others black, some were born slaves, others free men and citizens. Some were born patricians, others plebeians. Some were born feudal nobles, others commoners and roturiers. A slave or serf could never free himself, nor become free except by his master's will. In most European countries, commoners could not become nobles until near the end of the Middle Ages. This change resulted from the growing power of monarchs. Even among nobles, the eldest son was born the sole heir to his father's property. A long time passed before a father's right to disinherit his eldest son was fully established. Among the working classes, only people born into a guild, or admitted by its members, could legally practice their trade locally. And no one could practice any trade considered important except in the legally approved way, using officially prescribed methods. Manufacturers have been put in the pillory for daring to use new and improved methods. In modern Europe, directly opposite principles now prevail. These principles prevail most strongly in the regions that have shared most fully in all other modern improvements. Law and government do not claim the right to decide who may or may not perform social or industrial activities. Nor do they prescribe which methods are legal. These matters are left to individuals to choose freely. Even laws requiring workers to complete an apprenticeship have been repealed in this country. There is ample confidence that, whenever an apprenticeship is necessary, that necessity alone will ensure people undertake it. The old theory held that as little as possible should be left to individual choice. As far as possible, everything a person had to do should be prescribed by those with superior wisdom. Left to himself, he was sure to go wrong. The modern conviction comes from a thousand years of experience. It holds that matters directly concerning an individual never go right unless they are left to that person's judgment. Any regulation by authorities is sure to do harm, except when it protects the rights of others. People reached this conclusion slowly. They accepted it only after almost every possible application of the opposite theory had produced disastrous results. In industry, this conclusion now prevails universally in the most advanced countries. It prevails almost universally in all countries claiming any kind of advancement. The belief is not that all methods are equally good, or that everyone is equally qualified for everything. Rather, freedom of individual choice is now known to be the only way to ensure the best methods are adopted. It is also the only way to put each task into the hands of those best qualified for it. Nobody thinks a law is needed to ensure that only men with strong arms become blacksmiths. Freedom and competition are enough to make blacksmiths men with strong arms. Men with weak arms can earn more in occupations better suited to their abilities. Consistent with this principle, authorities are thought to exceed their proper powers when they declare certain people unfit for certain tasks. Such judgments are made in advance, based on some general assumption. It is now fully understood and accepted that, even where such assumptions exist, none is infallible. An assumption may hold true in most cases, though very likely it does not. Even then, there will be a minority of exceptional cases where the assumption fails. In those cases, preventing people from using their abilities for their own benefit and others' is both unjust and harmful. It wrongs those individuals and harms society. Where people really are unfit, on the other hand, the ordinary motives guiding human behavior will generally be enough. Those motives will keep an incompetent person from making the attempt or from persisting in it.

If this general principle of social and economical science is not true; if individuals, with such help as they can derive from the opinion of those who know them, are not better judges than the law and the government, of their own capacities and vocation; the world cannot too soon abandon this principle, and return to the old system of regulations and disabilities. But if the principle is true, we ought to act as if we believed it, and not to ordain that to be born a girl instead of a boy, any more than to be born black instead of white, or a commoner instead of a nobleman, shall decide the person's position through all life—shall interdict people from all the more elevated social positions, and from all, except a few, respectable occupations. Even were we to admit the utmost that is ever pretended as to the superior fitness of men for all the functions now reserved to them, the same argument applies which forbids a legal qualification for members of Parliament. If only once in a dozen years the conditions of eligibility exclude a fit person, there is a real loss, while the exclusion of thousands of unfit persons is no gain; for if the constitution of the electoral body disposes them to choose unfit persons, there are always plenty of such persons to choose from. In all things of any difficulty and importance, those who can do them well are fewer than the need, even with the most unrestricted latitude of choice: and any limitation of the field of selection deprives society of some chances of being served by the competent, without ever saving it from the incompetent.

Suppose this general principle of social and economic science is false. Suppose individuals cannot judge their own abilities and calling better than the law and government can. This includes whatever help individuals can get from the opinions of people who know them. If so, the world should abandon this principle as soon as possible and return to the old restrictions and exclusions. But if the principle is true, we should act as if we believe it. We should not make being born a girl rather than a boy determine a person's position throughout life. Nor should being born black rather than white, or a commoner rather than a nobleman, determine that position. These differences at birth should not bar people from all higher social positions and all but a few respectable occupations. Suppose we accepted even the strongest claims that men are better suited to all the roles now reserved for them. The same argument would still apply that rules out legal eligibility requirements for members of Parliament. If those requirements exclude a suitable person even once in twelve years, there is a real loss. Yet excluding thousands of unsuitable people brings no gain. For if the makeup of the electorate leads voters to choose unsuitable people, plenty will always remain to choose from. For every difficult and important task, there are fewer people who can do it well than are needed. This remains true even when the choice is completely unrestricted. So any restriction on the choice denies society some opportunities to be served by competent people. Yet no such restriction ever protects society from incompetent people.

At present, in the more improved countries, the disabilities of women are the only case, save one, in which laws and institutions take persons at their birth, and ordain that they shall never in all their lives be allowed to compete for certain things. The one exception is that of royalty. Persons still are born to the throne; no one, not of the reigning family, can ever occupy it, and no one even of that family can, by any means but the course of hereditary succession, attain it. All other dignities and social advantages are open to the whole male sex: many indeed are only attainable by wealth, but wealth may be striven for by any one, and is actually obtained by many men of the very humblest origin. The difficulties, to the majority, are indeed insuperable without the aid of fortunate accidents; but no male human being is under any legal ban: neither law nor opinion superadd artificial obstacles to the natural ones. Royalty, as I have said, is excepted: but in this case every one feels it to be an exception—an anomaly in the modern world, in marked opposition to its customs and principles, and to be justified only by extraordinary special expediencies, which, though individuals and nations differ in estimating their weight, unquestionably do in fact exist. But in this exceptional case, in which a high social function is, for important reasons, bestowed on birth instead of being put up to competition, all free nations contrive to adhere in substance to the principle from which they nominally derogate; for they circumscribe this high function by conditions avowedly intended to prevent the person to whom it ostensibly belongs from really performing it; while the person by whom it is performed, the responsible minister, does obtain the post by a competition from which no full-grown citizen of the male sex is legally excluded. The disabilities, therefore, to which women are subject from the mere fact of their birth, are the solitary examples of the kind in modern legislation. In no instance except this, which comprehends half the human race, are the higher social functions closed against any one by a fatality of birth which no exertions, and no change of circumstances, can overcome; for even religious disabilities (besides that in England and in Europe they have practically almost ceased to exist) do not close any career to the disqualified person in case of conversion.

Today, in the more advanced countries, legal restrictions on women are the only restrictions, with one exception, imposed for life at birth. Laws and institutions forbid women from ever competing for certain positions and advantages. The one exception is royalty. People are still born to the throne. No one outside the reigning family can ever occupy it. Even members of that family can reach the throne only through hereditary succession. All other ranks and social advantages are open to all men. Many advantages can be gained only through wealth, but anyone may strive for wealth. Many men from the humblest backgrounds do acquire wealth. For most people, the difficulties are indeed impossible to overcome without lucky breaks. But no man faces a legal ban. Neither law nor public opinion adds artificial obstacles to the natural ones. Royalty, as I have said, is an exception. But everyone recognizes royalty as an exception, an anomaly in the modern world. Hereditary rule stands in sharp contrast to modern customs and principles. Only extraordinary practical considerations can justify it. Individuals and nations differ over how much weight those considerations carry, but such considerations unquestionably exist. In this exceptional case, important reasons justify assigning a high public role by birth rather than through competition. Yet all free nations manage to preserve the substance of the principle they formally depart from. They place limits on the royal role expressly intended to prevent the nominal ruler from actually performing it. Instead, the minister responsible for governing performs the role. That minister gains office through a competition from which no adult male citizen is legally excluded. The restrictions imposed on women simply because of their birth are therefore the only restrictions of their kind in modern law. In no other case are people barred from higher public roles by birth, regardless of their efforts or changing circumstances. Yet this one case covers half the human race. Even restrictions based on religion do not permanently close any career to a person who converts. Besides, such religious restrictions have, in practice, almost ceased to exist in England and in Europe.

The social subordination of women thus stands out an isolated fact in modern social institutions; a solitary breach of what has become their fundamental law; a single relic of an old world of thought and practice exploded in everything else, but retained in the one thing of most universal interest; as if a gigantic dolmen, or a vast temple of Jupiter Olympius, occupied the site of St. Paul's and received daily worship, while the surrounding Christian churches were only resorted to on fasts and festivals. This entire discrepancy between one social fact and all those which accompany it, and the radical opposition between its nature and the progressive movement which is the boast of the modern world, and which has successively swept away everything else of an analogous character, surely affords, to a conscientious observer of human tendencies, serious matter for reflection. It raises a primâ facie presumption on the unfavourable side, far outweighing any which custom and usage could in such circumstances create on the favourable; and should at least suffice to make this, like the choice between republicanism and royalty, a balanced question.

Women’s social subordination thus stands alone among modern social institutions. It is the sole exception to what has become their basic principle. It is the last remnant of an old way of thinking and acting, rejected in every other area. Yet it survives in the one matter of most universal concern. It is as if a gigantic dolmen, or a vast temple of Jupiter Olympius, stood on the site of St. Paul's. The ancient monument would receive daily worship, while the surrounding Christian churches were visited only on fast days and festivals. Women’s subordination is entirely at odds with every other social arrangement around it. Its very nature also runs directly against the progress that the modern world boasts of. That progress has swept away, one after another, every other arrangement of a similar kind. Surely these contradictions give anyone who carefully studies human trends serious reason to reflect. At first glance, they create a strong presumption against women’s subordination. Under these circumstances, that presumption far outweighs any argument in its favor based on custom and established practice. At the very least, these contradictions should make women’s subordination an open question, like the choice between republicanism and monarchy.

The least that can be demanded is, that the question should not be considered as prejudged by existing fact and existing opinion, but open to discussion on its merits, as a question of justice and expediency: the decision on this, as on any of the other social arrangements of mankind, depending on what an enlightened estimate of tendencies and consequences may show to be most advantageous to humanity in general, without distinction of sex. And the discussion must be a real discussion, descending to foundations, and not resting satisfied with vague and general assertions. It will not do, for instance, to assert in general terms, that the experience of mankind has pronounced in favour of the existing system. Experience cannot possibly have decided between two courses, so long as there has only been experience of one. If it be said that the doctrine of the equality of the sexes rests only on theory, it must be remembered that the contrary doctrine also has only theory to rest upon. All that is proved in its favour by direct experience, is that mankind have been able to exist under it, and to attain the degree of improvement and prosperity which we now see; but whether that prosperity has been attained sooner, or is now greater, than it would have been under the other system, experience does not say. On the other hand, experience does say, that every step in improvement has been so invariably accompanied by a step made in raising the social position of women, that historians and philosophers have been led to adopt their elevation or debasement as on the whole the surest test and most correct measure of the civilization of a people or an age. Through all the progressive period of human history, the condition of women has been approaching nearer to equality with men. This does not of itself prove that the assimilation must go on to complete equality; but it assuredly affords some presumption that such is the case.

At the very least, we must not treat existing practices and opinions as having already settled the question. The question must remain open to discussion on its merits, as a matter of justice and practical benefit. As with any other social arrangement, the decision must rest on an informed assessment of likely developments and consequences. We must ask what would benefit humanity as a whole most, regardless of sex. And the discussion must be genuine, examining basic principles rather than settling for vague, sweeping claims. For example, simply claiming that human experience supports the existing system is not enough. Experience cannot possibly have settled a choice between two systems when only one has ever been tried. If equality between the sexes is said to rest only on theory, remember that the opposing view also rests only on theory. Direct experience proves only that humanity has been able to survive under the existing system. Humanity has also reached its present level of progress and prosperity under that system. But experience cannot tell us whether prosperity came sooner, or is now greater, than under the alternative system. On the other hand, experience does show that every advance has been so consistently accompanied by an improvement in women's social position. This connection has led historians and philosophers to use women's higher or lower status as a measure of civilization. They regard women's status as, on the whole, the surest test and most accurate measure of a people's or an age's civilization. Throughout the periods of progress in human history, women's position has moved closer to equality with men. This movement does not itself prove that progress toward equality must continue until equality is complete. But it certainly gives some reason to expect that outcome.

Neither does it avail anything to say that the nature of the two sexes adapts them to their present functions and position, and renders these appropriate to them. Standing on the ground of common sense and the constitution of the human mind, I deny that any one knows, or can know, the nature of the two sexes, as long as they have only been seen in their present relation to one another. If men had ever been found in society without women, or women without men, or if there had been a society of men and women in which the women were not under the control of the men, something might have been positively known about the mental and moral differences which may be inherent in the nature of each. What is now called the nature of women is an eminently artificial thing—the result of forced repression in some directions, unnatural stimulation in others. It may be asserted without scruple, that no other class of dependents have had their character so entirely distorted from its natural proportions by their relation with their masters; for, if conquered and slave races have been, in some respects, more forcibly repressed, whatever in them has not been crushed down by an iron heel has generally been let alone, and if left with any liberty of development, it has developed itself according to its own laws; but in the case of women, a hot-house and stove cultivation has always been carried on of some of the capabilities of their nature, for the benefit and pleasure of their masters. Then, because certain products of the general vital force sprout luxuriantly and reach a great development in this heated atmosphere and under this active nurture and watering, while other shoots from the same root, which are left outside in the wintry air, with ice purposely heaped all round them, have a stunted growth, and some are burnt off with fire and disappear; men, with that inability to recognise their own work which distinguishes the unanalytic mind, indolently believe that the tree grows of itself in the way they have made it grow, and that it would die if one half of it were not kept in a vapour bath and the other half in the snow.

Nor does it help to say that the nature of the two sexes suits them to their present roles and positions. That claim does not establish that these roles and positions are right for them. On grounds of common sense and how the human mind works, I deny that anyone knows either sex’s nature. Nor can anyone know it while the sexes have been observed only in their present relationship. Suppose men had ever been found living in society without women, or women without men. Or suppose a society of men and women had existed in which women were not under men’s control. Then we might have known something definite about the mental and moral differences that may be natural to each sex. What is now called women’s nature is highly artificial. It results from forced repression in some directions and unnatural encouragement in others. We can say without hesitation that no other dependent class has had its character so completely distorted by its masters. Conquered and enslaved peoples have, in some respects, been more forcibly repressed. But whatever was not crushed beneath an iron heel was generally left alone. And wherever any freedom to develop remained, those qualities developed according to their own laws. But with women, certain natural abilities have always been cultivated in heated greenhouses for their masters’ benefit and pleasure. In this heated atmosphere, with such active tending and watering, certain shoots of their overall vitality flourish and grow abundantly. Meanwhile, other shoots from the same root are left outside in the winter air, with ice deliberately piled around them. Those shoots grow poorly, and some are burned away and disappear. Then men fail to recognize their own handiwork, as people who do not examine things closely so often do. They lazily believe that the tree naturally grows in the very shape they have forced upon it. And they believe it would die unless half were kept in a steam bath and the other half in snow.

Of all difficulties which impede the progress of thought, and the formation of well-grounded opinions on life and social arrangements, the greatest is now the unspeakable ignorance and inattention of mankind in respect to the influences which form human character. Whatever any portion of the human species now are, or seem to be, such, it is supposed, they have a natural tendency to be: even when the most elementary knowledge of the circumstances in which they have been placed, clearly points out the causes that made them what they are. Because a cottier deeply in arrears to his landlord is not industrious, there are people who think that the Irish are naturally idle. Because constitutions can be overthrown when the authorities appointed to execute them turn their arms against them, there are people who think the French incapable of free government. Because the Greeks cheated the Turks, and the Turks only plundered the Greeks, there are persons who think that the Turks are naturally more sincere: and because women, as is often said, care nothing about politics except their personalities, it is supposed that the general good is naturally less interesting to women than to men. History, which is now so much better understood than formerly, teaches another lesson: if only by showing the extraordinary susceptibility of human nature to external influences, and the extreme variableness of those of its manifestations which are supposed to be most universal and uniform. But in history, as in travelling, men usually see only what they already had in their own minds; and few learn much from history, who do not bring much with them to its study.

The greatest obstacle today to the progress of thought and sound opinions about life and society is a profound failure. People are astonishingly ignorant of, and inattentive to, the influences that shape human character. Whatever any group of people are now, or seem to be, is assumed to reflect their natural tendencies. People assume this even when basic knowledge of the group’s circumstances clearly explains how its members became what they are. Because a tenant farmer far behind on his rent is not hardworking, some people think the Irish are naturally lazy. Constitutions can be overthrown when the authorities responsible for enforcing them turn their weapons against them. Because of this, some people think the French are incapable of free government. Because the Greeks cheated the Turks, while the Turks only plundered the Greeks, some think the Turks are naturally more honest. Women, it is often said, care about politics only because of the people involved. Because of this, people assume that women naturally care less about the common good than men do. History, now much better understood than before, teaches a different lesson. If nothing else, history shows how extraordinarily responsive human nature is to outside influences. History also shows how greatly human traits can vary, even those supposedly most universal and consistent. But in studying history, as in travelling, people usually see only what they already have in mind. And few learn much from history unless they bring much to their study of it.

Hence, in regard to that most difficult question, what are the natural differences between the two sexes—a subject on which it is impossible in the present state of society to obtain complete and correct knowledge—while almost everybody dogmatizes upon it, almost all neglect and make light of the only means by which any partial insight can be obtained into it. This is, an analytic study of the most important department of psychology, the laws of the influence of circumstances on character. For, however great and apparently ineradicable the moral and intellectual differences between men and women might be, the evidence of their being natural differences could only be negative. Those only could be inferred to be natural which could not possibly be artificial—the residuum, after deducting every characteristic of either sex which can admit of being explained from education or external circumstances. The profoundest knowledge of the laws of the formation of character is indispensable to entitle any one to affirm even that there is any difference, much more what the difference is, between the two sexes considered as moral and rational beings; and since no one, as yet, has that knowledge, (for there is hardly any subject which, in proportion to its importance, has been so little studied), no one is thus far entitled to any positive opinion on the subject. Conjectures are all that can at present be made; conjectures more or less probable, according as more or less authorized by such knowledge as we yet have of the laws of psychology, as applied to the formation of character.

So, what are the natural differences between the two sexes? This is an extremely difficult question. In society as it now stands, complete and accurate knowledge of these differences is impossible. Yet almost everyone makes confident claims about them. Almost everyone also ignores and dismisses the only way to gain even partial insight into the question. That way is a careful study of psychology’s most important branch: how circumstances shape character. For however great and seemingly impossible to eliminate the moral and intellectual differences between men and women might be, their natural origin could only be established by ruling out other explanations. Only differences that could not possibly be produced by human influences could be considered natural. These would be the differences left after excluding every characteristic of either sex that education or external circumstances could explain. Anyone claiming even that a difference exists between the sexes as moral and rational beings needs the deepest knowledge of how character develops. Still more knowledge is needed to say what that difference is. Yet no one has such knowledge so far. Hardly any subject has been studied so little in proportion to its importance. So no one is yet entitled to hold any definite opinion on the subject. At present, we can only make guesses. Those guesses are more or less likely to be right depending on how well our existing psychological knowledge supports them. The relevant knowledge concerns the laws governing how character develops.

Even the preliminary knowledge, what the differences between the sexes now are, apart from all question as to how they are made what they are, is still in the crudest and most incomplete state. Medical practitioners and physiologists have ascertained, to some extent, the differences in bodily constitution; and this is an important element to the psychologist: but hardly any medical practitioner is a psychologist. Respecting the mental characteristics of women; their observations are of no more worth than those of common men. It is a subject on which nothing final can be known, so long as those who alone can really know it, women themselves, have given but little testimony, and that little, mostly suborned. It is easy to know stupid women. Stupidity is much the same all the world over. A stupid person's notions and feelings may confidently be inferred from those which prevail in the circle by which the person is surrounded. Not so with those whose opinions and feelings are an emanation from their own nature and faculties. It is only a man here and there who has any tolerable knowledge of the character even of the women of his own family. I do not mean, of their capabilities; these nobody knows, not even themselves, because most of them have never been called out. I mean their actually existing thoughts and feelings. Many a man thinks he perfectly understands women, because he has had amatory relations with several, perhaps with many of them. If he is a good observer, and his experience extends to quality as well as quantity, he may have learnt something of one narrow department of their nature—an important department, no doubt. But of all the rest of it, few persons are generally more ignorant, because there are few from whom it is so carefully hidden. The most favourable case which a man can generally have for studying the character of a woman, is that of his own wife: for the opportunities are greater, and the cases of complete sympathy not so unspeakably rare. And in fact, this is the source from which any knowledge worth having on the subject has, I believe, generally come. But most men have not had the opportunity of studying in this way more than a single case: accordingly one can, to an almost laughable degree, infer what a man's wife is like, from his opinions about women in general. To make even this one case yield any result, the woman must be worth knowing, and the man not only a competent judge, but of a character so sympathetic in itself, and so well adapted to hers, that he can either read her mind by sympathetic intuition, or has nothing in himself which makes her shy of disclosing it. Hardly anything, I believe, can be more rare than this conjunction. It often happens that there is the most complete unity of feeling and community of interests as to all external things, yet the one has as little admission into the internal life of the other as if they were common acquaintance. Even with true affection, authority on the one side and subordination on the other prevent perfect confidence. Though nothing may be intentionally withheld, much is not shown. In the analogous relation of parent and child, the corresponding phenomenon must have been in the observation of every one. As between father and son, how many are the cases in which the father, in spite of real affection on both sides, obviously to all the world does not know, nor suspect, parts of the son's character familiar to his companions and equals. The truth is, that the position of looking up to another is extremely unpropitious to complete sincerity and openness with him. The fear of losing ground in his opinion or in his feelings is so strong, that even in an upright character, there is an unconscious tendency to show only the best side, or the side which, though not the best, is that which he most likes to see: and it may be confidently said that thorough knowledge of one another hardly ever exists, but between persons who, besides being intimates, are equals. How much more true, then, must all this be, when the one is not only under the authority of the other, but has it inculcated on her as a duty to reckon everything else subordinate to his comfort and pleasure, and to let him neither see nor feel anything coming from her, except what is agreeable to him. All these difficulties stand in the way of a man's obtaining any thorough knowledge even of the one woman whom alone, in general, he has sufficient opportunity of studying. When we further consider that to understand one woman is not necessarily to understand any other woman; that even if he could study many women of one rank, or of one country, he would not thereby understand women of other ranks or countries; and even if he did, they are still only the women of a single period of history; we may safely assert that the knowledge which men can acquire of women, even as they have been and are, without reference to what they might be, is wretchedly imperfect and superficial, and always will be so, until women themselves have told all that they have to tell.

Even our basic knowledge of the present differences between the sexes remains crude and incomplete. This is true even before we ask how those differences came about. Doctors and physiologists have established some differences in physical makeup. This knowledge is important to psychologists, but hardly any doctor is a psychologist. On women’s mental characteristics, doctors’ observations are worth no more than those of ordinary men. No firm conclusions are possible as long as women themselves, the only people who can truly know, have said little. And most of what little they have said has been shaped by pressure to give a particular account. Stupid women are easy to understand. Stupidity is much the same everywhere. We can confidently infer a stupid person’s ideas and feelings from those prevailing in that person’s social circle. The same is not true of people whose opinions and feelings arise from their own nature and abilities. Only an occasional man has any reasonable understanding even of the women in his own family. I do not mean their abilities. Nobody knows those, not even the women themselves, because most of their abilities have never been brought out. I mean the thoughts and feelings they actually have. Many men think they understand women perfectly because they have had romantic or sexual relationships with several, perhaps many, women. If a man observes well, and his experience includes variety as well as numbers, he may have learned something. But that knowledge concerns only one narrow part of women’s nature, though an important one. About all the rest, few people are generally more ignorant. For women hide the rest of their nature from few people so carefully. A man’s best opportunity to study a woman’s character is generally with his own wife. He has more opportunities, and cases of complete mutual understanding are not quite so extraordinarily rare. In fact, I believe most worthwhile knowledge of women has come from marriage. But most men have had the opportunity to study only one woman in this way. So a man’s opinions about women in general reveal, to an almost laughable degree, what his wife is like. Even this single example can teach him something only under certain conditions. The woman must be worth knowing, and the man must be a capable judge. He must also be deeply sympathetic and so well suited to her that he can intuitively understand her mind. Or there must be nothing in him that makes her reluctant to reveal her mind. I believe hardly anything is rarer than this combination. A couple often share feelings and interests completely in all external matters. Yet each may know as little of the other’s inner life as if they were merely acquaintances. Even with genuine affection, authority on one side and subordination on the other prevent complete trust. Though nothing may be deliberately withheld, much remains unexpressed. Everyone must have observed the same thing in the similar relationship between parent and child. Consider fathers and sons. How often, despite real affection on both sides, does a father plainly fail to know parts of his son’s character? Everyone else can see his ignorance, while the son’s companions and equals know those parts well. The father does not even suspect them. The truth is that looking up to someone makes complete honesty and openness with that person extremely difficult. The fear of losing that person’s esteem or affection is very strong. Even an honest person unconsciously tends to show only their best side. Or they show the side the other person most likes to see, even if it is not their best. We can confidently say that thorough mutual understanding hardly ever exists except between people who are both close and equal. How much more must all this apply when a woman is not only under a man’s authority? She is also taught that her duty is to put his comfort and pleasure before everything else. She must let him see or feel nothing from her except what pleases him. All these difficulties prevent a man from thoroughly knowing even the one woman he generally has enough opportunity to study. We must also remember that understanding one woman does not necessarily mean understanding any other woman. Even studying many women of one social class or country would not teach him about women of other classes or countries. And even if he understood those women too, they would still represent only one period of history. We can therefore safely say that men’s knowledge of women is miserably incomplete and superficial. This is true even of women as they have been and are, without considering what they might become. And that knowledge will always remain so until women themselves have told everything they have to tell.

And this time has not come; nor will it come otherwise than gradually. It is but of yesterday that women have either been qualified by literary accomplishments, or permitted by society, to tell anything to the general public. As yet very few of them dare tell anything, which men, on whom their literary success depends, are unwilling to hear. Let us remember in what manner, up to a very recent time, the expression, even by a male author, of uncustomary opinions, or what are deemed eccentric feelings, usually was, and in some degree still is, received; and we may form some faint conception under what impediments a woman, who is brought up to think custom and opinion her sovereign rule, attempts to express in books anything drawn from the depths of her own nature. The greatest woman who has left writings behind her sufficient to give her an eminent rank in the literature of her country, thought it necessary to prefix as a motto to her boldest work, “Un homme peut braver l'opinion; une femme doit s'y soumettre.”¹ The greater part of what women write about women is mere sycophancy to men. In the case of unmarried women, much of it seems only intended to increase their chance of a husband. Many, both married and unmarried, overstep the mark, and inculcate a servility beyond what is desired or relished by any man, except the very vulgarest. But this is not so often the case as, even at a quite late period, it still was. Literary women are becoming more freespoken, and more willing to express their real sentiments. Unfortunately, in this country especially, they are themselves such artificial products, that their sentiments are compounded of a small element of individual observation and consciousness, and a very large one of acquired associations. This will be less and less the case, but it will remain true to a great extent, as long as social institutions do not admit the same free development of originality in women which is possible to men. When that time comes, and not before, we shall see, and not merely hear, as much as it is necessary to know of the nature of women, and the adaptation of other things to it.

And that time has not come. Nor will it come except gradually. Only very recently have women gained the literary skills or society’s permission to address the general public. Even now, very few dare say anything that men are unwilling to hear, since their literary success depends on men. Remember how people reacted, until very recently, even when a male author expressed unconventional opinions or supposedly eccentric feelings. To some degree, people still react that way. This may give us some faint idea of the obstacles facing a woman who writes from her deepest nature. She faces these obstacles after being raised to treat custom and public opinion as her supreme authority. The greatest woman whose surviving writings give her a distinguished place in her country’s literature felt compelled to act accordingly. She placed this motto at the beginning of her boldest work: “A man can defy public opinion. A woman must submit to it.”¹ Most of what women write about women is merely flattery aimed at pleasing men. For unmarried women, much of this writing seems intended only to improve their chances of finding a husband. Many women, both married and unmarried, go too far. They teach a servility that no man, except the very coarsest, wants or enjoys. But such excessive servility is less common than it was even quite recently. Women writers are becoming more outspoken and more willing to express their true feelings. Unfortunately, especially in this country, women writers are themselves so heavily shaped by artificial social expectations. Their feelings contain only a small part drawn from personal observation and awareness of themselves. A much larger part comes from connections they have learned to make between ideas and feelings. This influence will diminish. But it will remain strong as long as social institutions deny women the freedom to develop their individuality that men enjoy. When women gain that freedom, and not before, we will see, rather than merely hear about, women’s nature. We will then know as much as we need to know about that nature and how other things suit it.

I have dwelt so much on the difficulties which at present obstruct any real knowledge by men of the true nature of women, because in this as in so many other things “opinio copiæ inter maximas causas inopiæ est;” and there is little chance of reasonable thinking on the matter, while people flatter themselves that they perfectly understand a subject of which most men know absolutely nothing, and of which it is at present impossible that any man, or all men taken together, should have knowledge which can qualify them to lay down the law to women as to what is, or is not, their vocation. Happily, no such knowledge is necessary for any practical purpose connected with the position of women in relation to society and life. For, according to all the principles involved in modern society, the question rests with women themselves—to be decided by their own experience, and by the use of their own faculties. There are no means of finding what either one person or many can do, but by trying—and no means by which any one else can discover for them what it is for their happiness to do or leave undone.

I have spent so much time on the obstacles that now prevent men from truly understanding women’s nature. My reason is that, here as in so many other matters, “believing we know is among the greatest causes of ignorance.” There is little chance of reasonable thought while people flatter themselves that they fully understand this subject. Most men know absolutely nothing about it. And at present, no man, nor all men together, can know enough to dictate what women’s calling should or should not be. Fortunately, no such knowledge is needed for any practical purpose concerning women’s place in society and life. For according to all the principles of modern society, women themselves must decide the question. Women must decide through their own experience and by using their own abilities. The only way to discover what one person or many people can do is to let them try. And no one else can discover for them what they should do or avoid doing to be happy.

One thing we may be certain of—that what is contrary to women's nature to do, they never will be made to do by simply giving their nature free play. The anxiety of mankind to interfere in behalf of nature, for fear lest nature should not succeed in effecting its purpose, is an altogether unnecessary solicitude. What women by nature cannot do, it is quite superfluous to forbid them from doing. What they can do, but not so well as the men who are their competitors, competition suffices to exclude them from; since nobody asks for protective duties and bounties in favour of women; it is only asked that the present bounties and protective duties in favour of men should be recalled. If women have a greater natural inclination for some things than for others, there is no need of laws or social inculcation to make the majority of them do the former in preference to the latter. Whatever women's services are most wanted for, the free play of competition will hold out the strongest inducements to them to undertake. And, as the words imply, they are most wanted for the things for which they are most fit; by the apportionment of which to them, the collective faculties of the two sexes can be applied on the whole with the greatest sum of valuable result.

One thing is certain. Simply allowing women to follow their nature freely will never make them do anything contrary to that nature. People worry that nature might fail to achieve its purpose unless they step in to help. Such concern is entirely unnecessary. There is no point in forbidding women to do what they are naturally incapable of doing. If women can do something, but not as well as their male competitors, competition alone will exclude them. After all, no one is asking for protective tariffs or subsidies favoring women. The only demand is to remove the existing subsidies and protective tariffs favoring men. If women naturally prefer some activities to others, neither laws nor social instruction are needed to guide most women's choices. Free competition will offer women the strongest incentives to do the work for which their services are most needed. And, as those words imply, women are most needed for the work they are best suited to do. Assigning that work to women allows the combined abilities of both sexes to produce the greatest overall value.

The general opinion of men is supposed to be, that the natural vocation of a woman is that of a wife and mother. I say, is supposed to be, because, judging from acts—from the whole of the present constitution of society—one might infer that their opinion was the direct contrary. They might be supposed to think that the alleged natural vocation of women was of all things the most repugnant to their nature; insomuch that if they are free to do anything else—if any other means of living, or occupation of their time and faculties, is open, which has any chance of appearing desirable to them—there will not be enough of them who will be willing to accept the condition said to be natural to them. If this is the real opinion of men in general, it would be well that it should be spoken out. I should like to hear somebody openly enunciating the doctrine (it is already implied in much that is written on the subject)—“It is necessary to society that women should marry and produce children. They will not do so unless they are compelled. Therefore it is necessary to compel them.” The merits of the case would then be clearly defined. It would be exactly that of the slaveholders of South Carolina and Louisiana. “It is necessary that cotton and sugar should be grown. White men cannot produce them. Negroes will not, for any wages which we choose to give. Ergo they must be compelled.” An illustration still closer to the point is that of impressment. Sailors must absolutely be had to defend the country. It often happens that they will not voluntarily enlist. Therefore there must be the power of forcing them. How often has this logic been used! and, but for one flaw in it, without doubt it would have been successful up to this day. But it is open to the retort—First pay the sailors the honest value of their labour. When you have made it as well worth their while to serve you, as to work for other employers, you will have no more difficulty than others have in obtaining their services. To this there is no logical answer except “I will not:” and as people are now not only ashamed, but are not desirous, to rob the labourer of his hire, impressment is no longer advocated. Those who attempt to force women into marriage by closing all other doors against them, lay themselves open to a similar retort. If they mean what they say, their opinion must evidently be, that men do not render the married condition so desirable to women, as to induce them to accept it for its own recommendations. It is not a sign of one's thinking the boon one offers very attractive, when one allows only Hobson's choice, “that or none.” And here, I believe, is the clue to the feelings of those men, who have a real antipathy to the equal freedom of women. I believe they are afraid, not lest women should be unwilling to marry, for I do not think that any one in reality has that apprehension; but lest they should insist that marriage should be on equal conditions; lest all women of spirit and capacity should prefer doing almost anything else, not in their own eyes degrading, rather than marry, when marrying is giving themselves a master, and a master too of all their earthly possessions. And truly, if this consequence were necessarily incident to marriage, I think that the apprehension would be very well founded. I agree in thinking it probable that few women, capable of anything else, would, unless under an irresistible entrainement, rendering them for the time insensible to anything but itself, choose such a lot, when any other means were open to them of filling a conventionally honourable place in life: and if men are determined that the law of marriage shall be a law of despotism, they are quite right, in point of mere policy, in leaving to women only Hobson's choice. But, in that case, all that has been done in the modern world to relax the chain on the minds of women, has been a mistake. They never should have been allowed to receive a literary education. Women who read, much more women who write, are, in the existing constitution of things, a contradiction and a disturbing element: and it was wrong to bring women up with any acquirements but those of an odalisque, or of a domestic servant.

Men are generally supposed to believe that a woman’s natural calling is to be a wife and mother. I say “supposed to believe” because their actions suggest exactly the opposite. So does the whole structure of society today. From these, we might suppose men believe that women find this supposedly natural calling more repulsive than anything else. If women are free to do anything else, too few will willingly accept their supposedly natural role. Any other way to earn a living or use their time and abilities might seem attractive enough to draw them away. If men generally believe this, they should say so openly. I would like to hear someone openly state the following principle, already implied in much writing on the subject: “Society needs women to marry and have children. They will not do so unless forced. Therefore, they must be forced.” The issue would then be clearly defined. The argument would be exactly the same as that of the slaveholders of South Carolina and Louisiana. “Cotton and sugar must be grown. White men cannot produce them. Black people will not, for any wages we choose to offer. Therefore, they must be forced.” An even closer example is impressment, the forced recruitment of sailors. Sailors are absolutely necessary to defend the country. Often, they will not enlist voluntarily. Therefore, there must be power to force them. How often this argument has been used! Without one flaw, the argument would undoubtedly have remained successful to this day. But there is an answer: First, pay sailors the fair value of their work. Make serving you as worthwhile as working for other employers. Then you will have no more difficulty hiring them than other employers do. The only logical reply is “I will not.” People are now not only ashamed to cheat workers of their pay, but unwilling to do so. So forced recruitment is no longer defended. Those who try to force women into marriage by shutting every other door face a similar answer. If these men mean what they say, they must believe men do not make marriage attractive enough to women. Marriage’s own advantages are not enough to persuade women to choose it. Offering only Hobson’s choice, “that or nothing,” hardly shows confidence in the appeal of what you offer. Here, I believe, lies the explanation for men who deeply oppose women’s equal freedom. I believe their fear is not that women will refuse to marry. I do not think anyone really fears that. Rather, these men fear that women will insist on equal terms in marriage. They fear that all women with spirit and ability will prefer almost any other work they do not consider degrading. Such women would choose that work rather than marry, when marriage means accepting a master over themselves and everything they own. And truly, if marriage necessarily had this consequence, I think that fear would be very well founded. I too think few women capable of anything else would choose such a life if another socially respectable path were open. They might choose it under an irresistible surge of passion that temporarily made them blind to everything else. But otherwise, I think few would. If men insist that marriage law must impose absolute rule, their strategy is quite right: leave women only Hobson’s choice. But in that case, all modern efforts to loosen the chains on women’s minds have been a mistake. Women should never have been allowed an education in literature. Under the present social system, women who read are a contradiction and a disruptive force. Women who write are even more so. It was wrong to teach women any skills beyond those of an odalisque, a harem concubine, or a domestic servant.