Hidden 7 yrs ago Post by Blubaron45
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Blubaron45 The Musical Mathmagician

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The fact that so many books still name the Beatles as "the greatest or most significant or most influential" rock band ever only tells you how far rock music still is from becoming a serious art. Jazz critics have long recognized that the greatest jazz musicians of all times are Duke Ellington and John Coltrane, who were not the most famous or richest or best sellers of their times, let alone of all times. Classical critics rank the highly controversial Beethoven over classical musicians who were highly popular in courts around Europe. Rock critics are still blinded by commercial success. The Beatles sold more than anyone else (not true, by the way), therefore they must have been the greatest. Jazz critics grow up listening to a lot of jazz music of the past, classical critics grow up listening to a lot of classical music of the past. Rock critics are often totally ignorant of the rock music of the past, they barely know the best sellers. No wonder they will think that the Beatles did anything worthy of being saved.
In a sense, the Beatles are emblematic of the status of rock criticism as a whole: too much attention paid to commercial phenomena (be it grunge or U2) and too little to the merits of real musicians. If somebody composes the most divine music but no major label picks him up and sells him around the world, a lot of rock critics will ignore him. If a major label picks up a musician who is as stereotyped as can be but launches her or him worldwide, your average critic will waste rivers of ink on her or him. This is the sad status of rock criticism: rock critics are basically publicists working for major labels, distributors and record stores. They simply highlight what product the music business wants to make money from.

Hopefully, one not-too-distant day, there will be a clear demarcation between a great musician like Tim Buckley, who never sold much, and commercial products like the Beatles. At such a time, rock critics will study their rock history and understand which artists accomplished which musical feat, and which simply exploited it commercially.

Beatles' "Aryan" music removed any trace of black music from rock and roll. It replaced syncopated African rhythm with linear Western melody, and lusty negro attitudes with cute white-kid smiles.

Contemporary musicians never spoke highly of the Beatles, and for good reason. They could never figure out why the Beatles' songs should be regarded more highly than their own. They knew that the Beatles were simply lucky to become a folk phenomenon (thanks to "Beatlemania", which had nothing to do with their musical merits). That phenomenon kept alive interest in their (mediocre) musical endeavours to this day. Nothing else grants the Beatles more attention than, say, the Kinks or the Rolling Stones. There was nothing intrinsically better in the Beatles' music. Ray Davies of the Kinks was certainly a far better songwriter than Lennon & McCartney. The Stones were certainly much more skilled musicians than the 'Fab Four'. And Pete Townshend was a far more accomplished composer, capable of entire operas such as "Tommy" and "Quadrophenia"; not to mention the far greater British musicians who followed them in subsequent decades or the US musicians themselves who initially spearheaded what the Beatles merely later repackaged to the masses.

The Beatles sold a lot of records not because they were the greatest musicians but simply because their music was easy to sell to the masses: it had no difficult content, it had no technical innovations, it had no creative depth. They wrote a bunch of catchy 3-minute ditties and they were photogenic. If somebody had not invented "Beatlemania" in 1963, you would not have wasted five minutes of your time reading these pages about such a trivial band.

Extended note from 2010. The Beatles were not a terribly interesting band, but their fans were and still are an interesting phenomenon. I can only name religious fundamentalists as annoying (and as threatening) as Beatles fans, and as persevering in sabotaging anyone who dares express an alternate opinion of their faith. They have turned me into some kind of Internet celebrity not because of the 6,000 bios that i have written, not because of the 800-page book that i published, not because of the 30 years of cultural events that i organized, but simply because i downplayed the artistic merits of the Beatles, an action that they consider as disgraceful as the 2001 terrorist attacks.
Jakub Krawczynski sent me this supportive comment in 2010:

I find it quite amusing that almost all of the Beatles songs have their own entries on Wikipedia (nothing wrong with that in itself, actually), even if they are not singles, and each of them is meticulously dissected as if there were transcendental suites exceeding human comprehension, yet bands like Faust or Red Krayola, etc. have biographies even shorter than just one article about any random Beatles song. Needless to say, none of their songs have any articles on them, yet I'm sure there would be a lot more to talk about. Moreover, if you had put any bad review of their album on the site with the intention to show the broader scope of opinions, you'd risk your "life" there, since such fanatics don't accept any single sign of trying to be objective. You are seen as public enemy number 1 to them. It is like your article is one giant cognitive dissonance to them and vandalizing your bio was the only way to reduce this dissonance.
(Italian text translated by Ornella C. Grannis and proof-edited by Daniel Vogel )
The Beatles most certainly belong to the history of the 60s, but their musical merits are at best dubious.

The Beatles came at the height of the reaction against rock and roll, when the innocuous "teen idols", rigorously white, were replacing the wild black rockers who had shocked the radio stations and the conscience of half of America. Their arrival represented a lifesaver for a white middle class terrorized by the idea that within rock and roll lay a true revolution of customs. The Beatles tranquilized that vast section of the population and conquered the hearts of all those (first and foremost the females) who wanted to rebel, without violating the social status quo. The contorted and lascivious faces of the black rock and rollers were substituted by the innocent smiles of the Beatles; the unleashed rhythms of the first were substituted by the catchy tunes of the latter. Rock and roll could finally be included in the pop charts. The Beatles represented the quintessential reaction to a musical revolution in the making, and for a few years they managed to run its enthusiasm into the ground.

Furthermore, the Beatles represented the reaction against a social and political revolution. They arrived at the time of the student protests, of Bob Dylan, of the Hippies, and they replaced the image of angry kids, fists in the air, with their cordial faces and amiable declarations. They came to replace the accusatory words of militant musicians with overindulgent nursery rhymes. Thus the Beatles served as middle-class tranquilizers, as if to prove the new generation was not made up exclusively of rebels, misfits and sex maniacs.

For most of their career, the Beatles were four mediocre musicians who sang melodic three-minute tunes at a time when rock music was trying to push itself beyond that format, one originally confined by the technical limitations of the 78 rpm record. They were the quintessence of "mainstream" (assimilating the innovations proposed by rock music) within the format of the melodic song.

The Beatles belonged, like the Beach Boys (whom they emulated throughout most of their career), to the era of the vocal band. In such a band the technique of the instrument was not as important as that of the chorus. Undoubtedly skilled at composing choruses, they availed themselves of producer George Martin (head of Parlophone since 1956), to embellish those choruses with arrangements more and more eccentric.

Thanks to a careful marketing campaign, they became the most celebrated entertainers of the era, and are still the darlings of magazines and tabloids, much like Princess Grace of Monaco and Lady Di.

The convergence between Western polyphony (melody, several parts of vocal harmony and instrumental arrangements) and African percussion - the leitmotif of US music from its inception - was legitimized in Europe by the huge success of the Merseybeat, in particular by its best sellers, Gerry and the Pacemakers and the Beatles, both produced by George Martin and managed by Brian Epstein. To the bands of the Merseybeat goes the credit of having validated rock music for a vast, virtually endless, audience. They were able to interpret the spirit and technique of rock and roll, while separating it from its social circumstances, thus defusing potential explosions. In such a fashion, they rendered it accessible not only to the young rebels, but to all. Mediocre musicians, and even more mediocre intellectuals, bands like the Beatles had the intuition of the circus performer who knows how to amuse the peasants after a hard day's work, an intuition applied to the era of mass distribution of consumer goods.

Every one of their songs and every one of their albums followed much more striking songs and albums by others, but instead of simply imitating them, the Beatles adapted them to a bourgeois, conformist and orthodox dimension. The same process was applied to the philosophy of the time, from the protests on college campuses to Dylan's pacifism, psychedelic drugs, or Eastern religion. Their vehicle was melody, a universal code of sorts, that declared their music innocuous. Naturally others performed the same operation, and many (from the Kinks to the Hollies, from the Beach Boys to the Mamas and Papas) produced melodies even more memorable, yet the Beatles arrived at the right moment and theirs would remain the trademark of the melodic song of the second half of the twentieth century.

Their ascent was branded as "Beatlemania", a phenomenon of mass hysteria launched in 1963 that marked the height of the "teen idol" of the late 1950s, an extension of the myths of Frank Sinatra and Elvis Presley. From that moment on, no matter what they put together, the Beatles remained the center of the media's attention.

Musically, for what it is worth, the Beatles were the product of an era that had been prepared by vocal groups such as the Everly Brothers and by rockers such as Buddy Holly; an era that also expressed itself through the girl-groups, the Tamla bands and surf music. What the Beatles have in common with them, aside from almost identical melodies, is a general concept of song based on an exuberant, optimistic and cadenced melody.

The Beatles were the quintessence of instrumental mediocrity. George Harrison was a pathetic guitarist, compared with the London guitarists of those days (Townshend of the Who, Richards of the Rolling Stones, Davies of the Kinks, Clapton, Beck and Page of the Yardbirds, and many others who were less famous but more original). The Beatles had completely missed the revolution of rock music (founded on a prominent use of the guitar) and were still trapped in the stereotypes of the easy-listening orchestras. Paul McCartney was a singer from the 1950s, who could not have possibly sounded more conventional. As a bassist, he was not worth the last of the rhythm and blues bassists (even though within the world of Merseybeat his style was indeed revolutionary). Ringo Starr played drums the way any kid of that time played it in his garage (even though he may ultimately be the only one of the four who had a bit of technical competence). Overall, the technique of the "Fab Four" was the same as that of many other easy-listening groups: sub-standard.

Theirs were records of traditional songs crafted as they had been crafted for centuries, yet they served an immense audience, far greater than the audience of those who wanted to change the world, the hippies, freaks and protesters. Their fans ignored or abhorred the many rockers of the time who were experimenting with the suite format, who were composing long free-form tracks, who were using dissonance, who were radically changing the concept of the musical piece. The Beatles' fans thought, and some still think, that using trumpets in a rock song was a revolutionary event, that using background noises (although barely noticeable) was an even more revolutionary event, and that only great musical geniuses could vary so many styles in one album, precisely what many rock musicians were doing all over the world, employing much more sophisticated stylistic excursions.

While the Velvet Underground, Frank Zappa, the Doors, Pink Floyd and many others were composing long and daring suites worthy of avantgarde music, thus elevating rock music to art, the Beatles continued to yield three-minute songs built around a chorus. Beatlemania and its myth notwithstanding, Beatles fans went crazy for twenty seconds of trumpet, while the Velvet Underground were composing suites of chaos twenty minutes long. Actually, between noise and a trumpet, between twenty seconds and twenty minutes, there was an artistic difference of several degrees of magnitude. They were, musically, sociologically, politically, artistically, and ideologically, on different planets.

Beatlemania created a comical temporal distortion. Many Beatles fans were convinced that rock and roll was born around the early 1960s, that psychedelic rock and the hippies were a 1967 phenomenon, that student protests began in 1969, that peace marches erupted at the end of the 60s, and so on. Beatles fans believed that the Beatles were first in everything, while in reality they were last in almost everything. The case of the Beatles is a textbook example of how myths can distort history.

The Beatles had the historical function to delay the impact of the innovations of the 1960s . Between 1966 and 1969, while suites, jams, and long free form tracks (which the Beatles also tried but only toward the end of their career) became the fashion, while the world was full of guitarists, bassist, singers and drummers who played solos and experimented with counterpoint, the Beatles limited themselves to keeping the tempo and following the melody. Their historical function was also to prepare the more conservative audience for those innovations. Their strength was perhaps in being the epitome of mediocrity, never a flash of genius, never a revolutionary thought, never a step away from what was standard, accepting innovations only after they had been by the establishment. And maybe it was that chronic mediocrity that made their fortune: whereas other bands tried to surpass their audiences, to keep two steps ahead of the myopia of their fans, traveling the hard and rocky road, the Beatles took their fans by the hand and walked them along a straight path devoid of curves and slopes.

Beatles fans can change the meaning of the word "artistic" to suit themselves, but the truth is that the artistic value of the Beatles work is very low. The Beatles made only songs, often unpretentious songs, with melodies no more catchy than those of many other pop singers. The artistic value of those songs is the artistic value of one song: however well done (and one can argue over the number of songs well done vs. the number of overly publicized songs by the band of the moment), it remains a song, precisely as toothpaste remains toothpaste. It does not become a work of art just because it has been overly publicized.

The Beatles are justly judged for the beautiful melodies they have written. But those melodies were "beautiful" only when compared to the melodies of those who were not trying to write melodies; in other words to the musicians who were trying to rewrite the concept of popular music by implementing suites, jams and noise. Many contemporaries of Beethoven wrote better minuets than Beethoven ever wrote, but only because Beethoven was writing something else. In fact, he was trying to write music that went beyond the banality of minuets.

The melodies of the Beatles were perhaps inferior to many composers of pop music who still compete with the Beatles with regard to quality, those who were less famous and thus less played.

The songs of the Beatles were equipped with fairly vapid lyrics at a time when hordes of singer songwriters and bands were trying to say something intelligent. The Beatles' lyrics were tied to the tradition of pop music, while rock music found space, rightly or wrongly, for psychological narration, anti-establishment satire, political denunciation, drugs, sex and death.

The most artistic and innovative aspect of the Beatles' music, in the end, proved to be George Martin's arrangements. Perhaps aware of the band's limitations, Martin used the studio and studio musicians in a creative fashion, at times venturing beyond the demands of tradition to embellish the songs. Moreover, Martin undoubtedly had a taste for unusual sounds. At the beginning of his career he had produced Rolf Harris' Tie Me Kangaroo with the didjeridoo. At the time nobody knew what it was. Between 1959 and 1962 Martin had produced several tracks of British humor with heavy experimentation, inspired by the Californian Stan Freiberg, the first to use the recording studio as an instrument.

As popular icons, as celebrities, the Beatles certainly influenced their times, although much less than their fans suppose. Even Richard Nixon, the US president of the Vietnam War and Watergate influenced his times and the generations that followed, but that does not make him a great musician.

Today Beatles songs are played mostly in supermarkets. But their myth, like that of Rudolph Valentino and Frank Sinatra before them, will live as long as the fans who believed in it will be alive. Through the years their fame has been artificially kept alive by marketing, a colossal advertising effort, a campaign without equal in the history of entertainment.

Their history begins at the end of the 1950s. Buddy Holly's Crickets had invented the modern concept of the rock band. Indirectly they had also started the fashion of naming a band with a plural noun, like the doo-wop ensembles before them, but a noun that was funny instead of serious. Almost immediately bands like "the Crickets" began to pop up everywhere, most of them bearing plural nouns. Insects were fashionable. The Beatles were the most famous.

Assembled to bring to Europe the free spirit, the simple melodies, and the vocal harmonies of the Beach Boys (the novelty of the moment) more than for any specific reason, the Beatles became, despite their limitations, the most successful recording artists of their time. While acknowledging that neither the Beatles nor the Beach Boys were music greats, it must be noted that both were influential in conferring commercial credibility to rock music, and both inspired thousands of youngsters around the world to form rock bands. The same had happened with Elvis Presley. Although far from being a great musician, he too had inspired thousands of white kids, among them both the Beatles and the Beach Boys, to become rockers.

The "swinging London" of the 1960s was a mix of renewal, mediocrity, conformity, non-commitment, cultural rebirth, tourist attraction and excitement, a locus of rebellion drowned in shining billboards, of young men with long hair and girls in mini-skirts, of wealth and hypocrisy about wealth, a city of indifference. La dolce vita, English style. The Beatles were the best selling product of that London, a city full of ambiguity and contradictions.

The Beatles' birthplace was Liverpool. John Lennon was a rhythm guitar player with a skiffle group called the Quarrymen, founded in 1955, before forming the Beatles in 1960 with Paul McCartney. George Harrison, hired when he was still a minor, played lead guitar, with a formidable style inspired by the rockabilly of James Burton and Carl Perkins. They rose through the ranks playing rock and roll covers in Hamburg, Germany, then made their debut at The Cavern, in Liverpool, on February 21, 1961. Shortly after, Ringo Starr was called to replace the drummer Pete Best, and McCartney switched to the bass.

In 1962 two phenomena exploded in America: the Beach Boys and the Four Seasons. Both truly sang, in vocal harmony derived from 1950s doo-wop, which they introduced to white audiences, with arrangements imitating the Crickets.

That was the year the Beatles began the transition from covers to original, melodic, vocal harmonies. One of the first recordings of the Beach Boys had been a revision of one of Chuck Berry's songs, one of the first recordings of the Beatles had to be a revision of one of Chuck Berry's songs. Brian Wilson played the bass for the Beach Boys, Paul McCartney would play bass for the Beatles.

Brian Epstein was the man who scouted them and secured their contract with EMI in November 1961, and also the man who created their image,their clothes, their hairdos (similar to television comedian Ish Kabibble's). George Martin was the man who created their sound.

1962 was the year of Bob Dylan, of peace demonstrations, of songs of protest. Precisely in 1962, far removed, diametrically opposed really, to the events that dominated US society, the Beatles debuted with a 45, Love Me Do, recorded in September 1962, a jovial rhythm and blues led by the harmonica in the style of Delbert McClinton. By the end of the year the song had made the charts. In February 1963, the band reached #2 with Please Please Me. In the space of few months, a diligent marketing strategy, ingeniously managed by Brian Epstein, unleashed mass hysteria. Records sold out before the recording sessions actually began, mass-media detailed step by step chronicles of the four heroes, the world of fashion imposed a new hairdo. Epstein had created "Beatlemania"...

The overflow of fanaticism around them demanded refinement of their style. They began to utilize new instruments. The more they dissociated themselves from their rhythm and blues roots, the faster their style became more melodious. Through From Me To You, the rowdy She Loves You (accessorized with the first "yeah-yeah-yeahs"), and I Want To Hold Your Hand (a heavier rhythm enhanced by clapping), all "number ones" on the charts of 1963, they fused centuries of vocal styles - sacred hymn, Elizabethan song, music hall, folk ballad, gospel and voodoo - in a harmonious and crystal-clear format for a happy chorus. A variant of the same process had been adopted in the United States by the Shirelles. For the most part it was Buddy Holly's jovial, childish, catchy style that was copied, speeding the tempo to accommodate the demands of the "twist". The twist was the dance craze of the moment: fast beat, suggestive moves and catchy tunes. The Beatles sensed that it was the right formula.

In the USA nobody had caught on yet, and only mangled versions of Please Please Me (March 1963) and With The Beatles (November 1963) had been released. In January 1964 EMI decided to invest significantly and I Want To Hold Your Hand reached the top of the charts together with the Beatles' first US album Meet The Beatles (Capitol, 1964). In the States, cleansed at last of the perverted and amoral rock and roll scum of the 1950s, the charming and polite Merseybeat of the Beatles delighted the media. After their first tour in February 1964, and their appearance on the "Ed Sullivan Show", their 45s were solidly on top of the US charts. In April 1964 they occupied the first five positions. After all, their sound was drenched in US music: their vocal style was either that of the hard rockers like Little Richard, or the gentler call-and-response of the Drifters (echoing one another, stretching a word for several beats, screaming coarse "yeah-yeah", shrieking in falsetto), the choruses were Buddy Holly's, the harmonies were the Beach Boys' and the instrumental parts were remakes of twist combos.

The secret of the Beatles' success, in the USA as in the UK, was the simplicity of their arrangements. Whereas the idols of the time were backed by complex, almost classical arrangements, at times even by studio effects, the Beatles employed the elementary technique of surf music, completely devoid of orchestral support and surreal effects. At a time when singers had become studio subordinates, the Beatles managed to reestablish the supremacy of the singer. The youths of the USA recognized themselves in a style that was much more direct than the manufactured one of their "teen idols", and by default recognized themselves in the Beatles, precisely as they had recognized themselves in Elvis Presley after having become accustomed to the artificiality of pop music in the 1950s.

The Mersey sound was designed to tone down rock and roll. Under the direction of producer George Martin and manager Brian Epstein, the sound of the Beatles also became softer. The captivating style of the Beatles had already been pioneered by Gerry & The Pacemakers (formed in 1959, also managed by Epstein). They reached the charts with their first three 45s (How Do You Do It, March 1963, I Like It, May 1963, You`ll Never Walk Alone, October 1963): very melodic versions of rock and roll with sugar-coated versions of rock's rebel text. Practically speaking, the Pacemakers' formula brought rock and roll into pop music. They replaced the rough and crude beat of the blues with the light and tidy rhythms of European pop songs; they exchanged the slanted melodies of the blues with the catchy tunes of the British operetta; they substituted the provocative lyrics of Chuck Berry with the romantic rhymes of the "teen idols." Epstein and Martin simply continued that format with the Beatles. The only difference was in the authorship of practically their entire cache. All the Beatles songs were signed Lennon-McCartney. (This was only for contractual reasons. In reality they were not necessarily co-written.)

The first student protests took place in Berkeley, California in 1964. Young people were protesting against the establishment in general, and against the war in Vietnam in particular. The rebellion that had been seething through the 50s had finally found its intellectual vehicle. The Beatles knew nothing of this when they recorded Can't Buy Me Love, a swinging rockabilly a la Bill Haley, the first to reach #1 simultaneously in the States and in Britain, A Hard Day's Night and I Feel Fine, using the feedback that had been pioneered in the 1950s by guitarists such as Johnny Watson and used in Britain by the Yardbirds. All three are exuberant songs carrying ever so catchy refrains, reaching the top of the charts on both sides of the Atlantic. With these songs and with their public behavior the Beatles showed a whimsical and provoking way to be young. The Beatles were still a brand new phenomenon when A Hard Day's Night - the first surreal documentary about their daily lives was released, and their two first biographies were published. In the USA the marketing was intense: EMI was inundated by contracts to solicit the sales of Beatles wigs, Beatles attire, Beatles dolls, cartoons inspired by the Beatles. America was saturated with images of four smiling boys, the creation of a brand new myth that served to exorcise the demons of Vietnam, of the peace marches, of the civil disorders, of the student protests, of the racial disturbances, of the murder of JFK, of Bob Dylan, of rock and roll, of all the tragedies, real or presumed, that troubled the "American Dream". In the end, it might have all been a form of shock therapy.

Sure enough, hidden behind those smiling faces were four mediocre musicians, and also four multimillionaire snobs in the proudest British tradition. Far from being symbols of rebellion, they were reactionism personified. The Beatles, optimistic and effervescent, represented an escape from reality. People, kids in particular, had a desperate need to believe in something that had nothing to do with bombs and upheaval. The Beatles put to music the enthusiasm of the masses and in return, in a cycle that bordered on perpetual motion, were enthusiastically acclaimed by the same masses.

The best of their cliches is summarized in a famous anecdote. Interviewed during their US tour, Lennon answered the question "How did you find America?" with "We turned left at Greenland!" Beneath this naive sense of humor, anarchic and surreal, lays the greatest merit of the band.

From 1965 the LP, in the preceding years not as important as the 45, became the new unit of measure of their work. The US releases had 12 cuts including the hits, the British versions had 14 cuts and generally none of the hits. A Hard Day's Night (1964) was the first release to contain material exclusively co-written by Lennon and McCartney. For Sale, released immediately after, contained six covers (but also Eight Days A Week, and the melancholic I Don't Want To Spoil The Party). Help (August 1965), with The Night Before and Ticket To Ride, marked the transition from the Merseybeat sound to one oriented more toward folk and country, though some of the songs bring Buddy Holly to mind. The Beatles of these days showed a formidable talent for the melancholic ballad, such as You've Got To Hide Your Love Away, and most of all Yesterday, the slow song par excellence written by Paul McCartney, to which Martin added a string quartet (a song vaguely reminiscent of 1933's Yesterdays by Jerome Kern and Otto Harbach). However, their best work is to be found in more aggressive songs, such as Help, a gospel full of life adapted to their surreal style.

Rubber Soul (December 1965) completed the transition from the 45 to the 33, and also from Merseybeat to folk-rock. Following their U.S. tour, the influence of the Byrds is very strong. The rock and roll beat in Drive My Car and Run For Your Life, the exotic mood of Norwegian Wood (a David Crosby-ian litany accompanied by sitar, an instrument already utilized by the Yardbirds, possibly based on what the Kinks had done a few months earlier with See My Friends) and the timid psychedelia of Nowhere Man cover a vast repertoire of harmonies for their standards. In spite of the fact that the Beatles sought success within rock and roll, it was evident that their best work was expressed through melodic songs. The tender ballads Girl and Michelle (a classic for acoustic guitar, melodic bass and chorus, in the style of 1950s vocal groups) are truly excellent songs in their genre, but because they lack both rhythm and volume, they were considered "minor" at the time.

In 1965 the Beatles recorded another melodic masterpiece, We Can Work It Out, ground out on barrel organ and accordion, inspired by French folk music. They pursued the mirage of the "rave-up" with the hard riff of Day Tripper (borrowed from Watch Your Step of bluesman Bobby Parker), a pathetic response to Satisfaction by the Stones and You Really Got Me by the Kinks. Both songs, hard rockers, had shocked the charts that same year.

The Beatles finally freed themselves from the obsession of emulating others in 1966, with Revolver, an album entirely dedicated to sophisticated songs. The album, extremely polished, seems the lighter version of Rubber Soul. The psychedelic Tomorrow Never Knows (sitar, backward guitar, organ drones), the vaguely oriental Love You To, the classic Eleanor Rigby, the Vaudevillian operetta Good Day Sunshine, the rhythm and blues of Got To Get You Into My Life and Dr. Robert, as well as Rain, recorded in the same sessions (with backward vocals, inspired by the Byrds' Eight Miles High, that had charted just weeks before), are all mitigated by an ever more languid and romantic attitude. The few jolts of rhythm are kept at bay by a tender effusion in I'm Only Sleeping (with a timid solo of backward guitar), There And Everywhere and For No One. With this album the Beatles left behind rock and roll to get closer to pop music, the pop music of the Brill Building, that is, a genre of pop that sees Revolver as its masterpiece. (At the time melodic songs all over the world were inspired by the Brill Building). Of course Revolver was a thousand years late. That same year Dylan had released Blonde On Blonde, a double album with compositions fifteen minutes long, and Frank Zappa had released Freak Out, also a double album, in collage format. Rock music was experimenting with free form jams as in Virgin Forest by the Fugs, Up In Her Room by the Seeds, Going Home by the Rolling Stones. The songs of the Beatles truly belonged to another century.

The formal perfection of their melodies reached the sublime in 1967 with two 45s: the baroque/electronic Penny Lane/Strawberry Fields Forever, released in February, an absolute masterpiece that never reached the top of the charts, the hard rocking Paperback Writer, and the childish Yellow Submarine, a mosaic full of sound gags and barroom choruses. Penny Lane represents the apex of the Manneristic style: Vaudevillian rhythm, hypnotic melody, Renaissance trumpets, folkloristic flutes and triangles. Strawberry Fields Forever is a densely-arranged psychedelic experiment (backward vocals, mellotron, harp, timpani, bongos, trumpet, cello).

Perhaps, the experiments could have continued in a more serious direction, as the intriguing idea of the 14-minute Carnival of Light leads one to believe, a piece recorded at the beginning of 1967 and never completed nor released.

1967 was the year that FM radio began to play long instrumentals. In Great Britain, it was the year of psychedelia, of the Technicolor Dream, of the UFO Club. The psychedelic singles of Pink Floyd were generating an uproar. Inevitably, the Beatles recorded Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band.

This quasi-concept album was released while the Monterey Festival was consecrating the sanctifiable, the big names of the times. Unlike most of the revolutionary records of those days, often recorded in haste and with a low budget, Sgt. Pepper cost a fortune and took four months to put together. The Beatles soar in the ethereal refrain of Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds, utilizing the sitar, distorted keyboard sounds and Indian inspired vocals; they indulge in Vaudevillian tunes such as Lovely Rita and When I'm Sixty Four (a vintage ragtime worthy of the Bonzo Band), and they showcase their odd melodic sense in With A Little Help From My Friends. They scatter studio effects here and there, pretending to be avantgarde musicians, in Fixing A Hole and Being For The Benefit Of Mr Kite, but in reality these are tunes inspired by the music halls, the circuses and small town bands. A Day In The Life is the culmination of the relationship between technique and philosophy. It represents the happy marriage between Martin's sense of harmony, employing a 40-piece orchestra in which everybody plays every note, and Lennon's hippie existentialism, that dissects the alienation of the bourgeoisie.

Everything was running smoothly in the name of quality music, now entrusted to high fidelity arrangements and adventurous variations of style, from folk ballads to sidewalk Vaudeville, from soul to marching bands, from the Orient to swing, from chamber music to psychedelia, from tap dance to little bands in the park. Everything had been fused into a steady flow of variety show skits.

Rather than an album of psychedelic music (compared to which it actually sounds retro), Sgt. Pepper was the Beatles' answer to the sophistication of Pet Sounds, the masterpiece by their rivals, the Beach Boys, released a year and three months before. The Beatles had always been obsessed by the Beach Boys. They had copied their multi-part harmonies, their melodic style and their carefree attitude. Throughout their entire career, from 1963 to 1968, the Beatles actually followed the Beach Boys within a year or two, including the formation of Apple Records, which came almost exactly one year after the birth of Brother Records. Pet Sounds had caused an uproar because it delivered the simple melodies of surf music through the artistic sophistication of the studio. So, following the example of Pet Sounds, the Beatles recorded, from February to May 1967, Sgt. Pepper, disregarding two important factors: first that Pet Sounds had been arranged, mixed and produced by Brian Wilson and not by an external producer like George Martin, and second that, as always, they were late. They began assembling Sgt. Pepper a year after Pet Sounds had hit the charts, and after dozens of records had already been influenced by it.

Legend has it that it took 700 hours of studio recording to finish the album. One can only imagine what many other less fortunate bands could have accomplished in a recording studio with 700 hours at their disposal. Although Sgt. Pepper was assembled with the intent to create a revolutionary work of art, if one dares take away the hundreds of hours spent refining the product, not much remains that cannot be heard on Revolver: Oriental touches here and there, some psychedelic extravaganzas, a couple of arrangements in classical style. Were one to skim off a few layers of studio production, only pop melodies would remain, melodies not much different from those that had climbed the charts ten years before. Yet it was the first Beatles album to be released in long playing version all over the world. None of its songs were released as singles.

The truth is that although it was declared an "experimental" work, even Sgt. Pepper managed to remain a pop album. The Beatles of 1967 were still producing three-minute ditties, while Red Crayolas and Pink Floyd, to name two psychedelic bands of the era, were playing long free form suites - at times cacophonous, often strictly instrumental - that bordered on avantgarde. In 1967, the band that had never recorded a song that had not been built around a refrain began to feel outdated. They tried to keep up, but they never pushed themselves beyond the jingles, most likely because they could not, just as Marilyn Monroe could not have recited Shakespeare.

Sgt. Pepper is the album of a band that sensed change in the making, and was adapting its style to the taste of the hippies. It came in last (in June), after Velvet Underground & Nico (January), The Doors (also January), the Byrds' Younger Than Yesterday (february), and the Jefferson Airplane's Surrealistic Pillow (February) to signal the end of an era, after others had forever changed the history of rock music. (Several technical "innovations" on Sgt Pepper were copied from Younger Than Yesterday, whose tapes the Beatles had heard from David Crosby at the end of 1966). The uproar generated by Sgt. Pepper transferred those innovations from the US underground to the living rooms and the supermarkets of half the world.

With Sgt. Pepper, the sociology course in melodic rock and roll that Lennon and McCartney had introduced in 1963 came to an end. The music of the Beatles was an antidote to the uneasiness of those times, to the troubling events that scared and perplexed people. The course had the virtue of deflecting the impact of those events, the causes of political upheaval and moral revolution. The Beatles reassured the middle class at a time when almost nothing could reassure the middle class.

Every arrangement of that period - the harpsichords and the flutes, the prerecorded tracks and the electronic effects - was the result of George Martin's careful production. Martin was a lay musician, a former member of a marching band that occasionally had played in St. James Park. He knew that avantgarde musicians made music by manipulating tracks, that instruments with unusual timbre existed, that rock bands were dissecting classical harmonies. His background, not to mention his intellectual ability, was of the circus, the carnival, the operetta, the marching band, London's second-rate theaters. He took all he could from that folkloristic patrimony, every unorthodox technique. The results might not have been particularly impressive - after all he was neither Beethoven nor Von Karajan - but they were most certainly interesting. He was the true genius behind the music of the Beatles. Martin transformed their snobbish disposition, their childish insolence, their fleeting enthusiasm, into musical ideas. He converted their second hand melodies into monumental arrangements. He even played some of the instruments that helped those songs make history. From Rubber Soul on, Martin's involvement got progressively more evident. Especially with Sgt. Pepper, Martin demonstrated his knowledge and his intuition. The idea to connect all the songs in a continuous flow, however, is McCartney's. It is the operetta syndrome, the everlasting obsession of British musicians of the music halls. The Beatles filled newspapers and magazines with their declarations about drugs and Indian mysticism, and how they converted those elements into music, but it was Martin who was doing the conversion, who was transforming their fanciful artistic ambitions into music.

Around the time of Sgt. Pepper's release, Brian Epstein died. (His death was attributed to drugs and alcohol.) He was the man who had given fame to the Beatles, the fundamental presence in their development, the man who had invented their myth. The Beatles were four immature kids who for years had played the involuntary leading roles in an immensely successful soap opera, a part that paid them with imprisonment. For years they did not dare step outside their hotel rooms or their limousines. As Epstein's control began to lessen they began to look around, to take notice of the drugs, the social disorder, the ideals of peace, the student protests, the Oriental philosophies. It was a world completely unknown to them, full of issues they had never mentioned in their songs. The revelation was traumatic. Epstein's absence generated chaos, exposing problems with revenue, representation and public relations that eventually caused the demise of the group, but it also gave them the chance to grow up.

Sgt Pepper represents a breaking point in their career on several levels. It is a very autobiographical conceptual take on self-awareness. It is a concept album about the discovery of being able to put together a concept album.

Two projects realized with unusual wit also belong to the same period, a period that bridged two eras: the television movie Magical Mystery Tour and the cartoon Yellow Submarine. In both works can be found some of the most ingenious ideas of the quartet. The grotesque schizoid nightmare I Am The Walrus and the kaleidoscopic trip It's All Too Much are exercises of surrealism and psychedelia applied to the Merseybeat. Magical Mystery Tour also includes the bucolic ballad The Fool On The Hill, the psychedelic Blue Jay Way, and the mantra Baby You`re A Rich Man.

Meanwhile the shower of hits influenced by the experimental climate continued: Magical Mystery Tour, the movie soundtrack, with trumpets, jazz piano, changes in tempo, and a circus huckster-style presentation, Your Mother Should Know, another vaudeville classic, the anthem All You Need Is Love, Hello Goodbye, a catchy melody distorted by psychedelic effects, Lady Madonna, the boogie inspired by Fats Domino. But the Beatles still belonged to the era of pop music: unlike Cream they did not pull off solos, unlike Hendrix they strummed their guitars without real know-how, unlike Pink Floyd they did not dare dissect harmony. They were not just retro, they simply belonged elsewhere.

Hey Jude (august 1968), a long (for the Beatles) jam of psychedelic blues-rock, in reality another historic slow song by McCartney, came out after Traffic's Dear Mr. Fantasy and also after Cream's lengthy live jams had reached peak popularity. Paradoxically, Hey Jude established a new sales record; it was #1 on the charts for nine weeks and sold six million copies.

Having established the melodic standard of the decade, the quartet implemented it in every harmonic recipe that arose from time to time. By applying the industrial law of constant revision, they Beatles managed to keep themselves on top. So much variety of arrangements resulted in mere mannerism, meticulous attention to detail and ornament. The albums of the third period fluctuate in fact between collages of miniatures and melodic fantasies, but always skillfully keeping a harmonic cohesion between one song and the other, in the step with - consciously or unconsciously - the structure of the operetta.

By the time of their next LP release they were leading separate lives, each indifferent to the ideas of the others, and their album reflected the situation. It was clear that this new batch of recorded songs was not the effort of a band, but the work of four artists profoundly different from one another.

The double album The Beatles (November 1968), very similar in spirit to the Byrds' Notorious Byrd Brothers (June 1968), is a disorganized heap of incongruous ideas. No other Beatles album had ever been so varied and eclectic. Their new "progressive" libido found an outlet in blues-rock (Rocky Raccoon, Why Don't We Do It In The Road), and especially the giddy hyper-boogies (Birthday and Helter Skelter). As a consequence of this fragmented inspiration, the record includes a cornucopia of genres: classical (Piggies, a rare moment of genius from Harrison, a baroque sonata performed with the sarcastic humour of the Bonzo Dog Doo Dah Band, with a melody borrowed from Stephane Grappelli's Eveline), acoustic folk (Blackbird), the campfire sing-a-long (Bungalow Bill), ballads (Cry Baby Cry - one of their best piano progressions), the usual vaudeville-style parade (Don't Pass Me By, Martha My Dear, Obladi Oblada), and melodic rock (While My Guitar Gently Weeps, the jewel of their tunefulness). The album wraps up with a long jam, more or less avantgarde, (Revolution No. 9, co-written by John Lennon and Yoko Ono) two years after everybody else, and three years after the eleven minutes of Goin' Home, by the Stones.

The so called White Album sampled the mood change of rock music toward a simpler and more traditional way to make music. It was released three months after Sweetheart Of The Rodeo by the Byrds, which in turn had followed Dylan's John Wesley Harding. It is also an album that reflects the passing of Brian Epstein.

In 1968 Great Britain became infected by the concept album/rock opera bug, mostly realized by Beatles contemporaries: Tommy by the Who, The Village Green Preservation Society by the Kinks, Ogden's Nut Gone Flake by the Small Faces, Odyssey and Oracle by the Zombies, etc (albums that in turn owed something to the loosely-connected song cycles of pop albums such as Frank Sinatra's In The Wee Small Hours (1955), the Byrds' Fifth Dimension, the Beach Boys' Pet Sounds and the Beatles' Sgt Pepper). So, with the usual delay, a year later the Beatles gave it a try. Abbey Road (1969), is a vaudeville-style operetta that combines every genre in a steady stream of melodies and structurally perfect arrangements. It is the summa encyclopaedica of their career. It is a series of self-mocking vignettes, mimicking now the circus worker (Maxwell's Silver Hammer), now the crooner (Oh Darling, a parody a la Bonzo Band), now the baby-sitter (Octopus's Garden, in the silly vein of Yellow Submarine), culminating in the overwhelming suite of side B. Starting with the primitive exuberance of You Never Give Me Your Money (a mini rock opera worthy of early Zappa) and Mean Mr Mustard, the suite comes in thick and fast with Polytheme Pam and She Came In Thru The Bathroom Window, and dies melancholically with yet another goliardic chorus, Carry That Weight (that reprises the motifs of Money and I Want You). It is the apotheosis of the belated music hall entertainer in Paul McCartney. And it is, above all, a masterpiece of production, of sound, of sonic puzzles.

As was the case with their contemporaries - Who, Kinks, Small Faces and Zombies - this late album/thesis runs the risks going down in history as the Beatles' masterpiece. Obviously it does not even come close to the creative standards of the time (1969), but it scores well. The result is formally impeccable melodic songwriting, although it must be noted that the best songs, both written by George Harrison, are also the most modest. Abbey Road is their last studio album, again produced by George Martin.

All efforts at cohesion notwithstanding, their personalities truly became too divergent. The modest hippie George Harrison became attracted to Oriental spiritualism. (Something and Here Comes The Sun are his melancholy ballads). Paul McCartney, the smiling bourgeois, became progressively more involved with pop music (every nursery-rhyme, Get Back and Let It Be included, are his). John Lennon, the thoughtful intellectual became absorbed in self-examination and political involvement. His was a much harder and/or psychedelic sound (Revolution, Come Together, the dreamy and Indian-like Across The Universe). They were songs ever more meaningless and anonymous. After all, the break-up had begun with Revolver (Lennon wrote Tomorrow Never Knows, Harrison Love You To, McCartney Eleanor Rigby), and had been camouflaged in successive records by Martin's painstakingly arrangements.

The Beatles adapted their music to suit the styles in fashion: doo-wop, garage-rock, psychedelia, country-rock. Very few bands changed style so drastically from year to year. Perhaps they began to feel obsolete listening to Cream. Cream concerts were the first musical phenomenon in Great Britain to rival Beatlemania. Cream did all they could to make the Merseybeat sound terribly old, precisely what the Beatles had done to the sound of Elvis Presley. In 1969, Led Zeppelin changed completely the importance of radio and charts. [Led Zeppelin is the first enormously successful band whose album did not get any air play on AM radio (only FM) and whose songs did not make the singles charts. The change they brought about was significant because it shifted the importance of the charts from singles to albums. -Translator's Note] Since they used melody as a lever, the Beatles had a relatively easy time in following every shift in fashion (psychedelia included), until hard-rock - the antithesis of Beatlemania - came about. Suddenly the idol was no longer the singer but the instrument, the excitement was generated by the riff and not by the refrain, concerts were attended by multitudes of long-haired men on drugs who gathered on the street, not by hysterical teenage girls who assembled in theaters. Hard-rock negated their simple melodies. It is not by coincidence that the arrival of hard-rock marked the end of the Beatles.

In 1970 the Beatles broke up and every member began a solo career. John Lennon (murdered in December 1980 by a deranged fan) did not do much worthy of the great singer songwriters of the time. Had it not been for his personal and political involvement, and his past as a Beatle, he would not have made it by his music alone. His solo career fluctuated ambiguously between hard-rock and ballads, the utopia of peace and love and domestic romanticism. His solo career actually began with Two Virgins (Apple, 1968), an album he made when he was still a Beatle, in collaboration with his famous second wife. Yoko Ono was the heiress to a dynasty of Japanese bankers, held a degree in philosophy, had been a United States resident since 1953, was a member of the avantgarde movement Fluxus, and was a world-renowned performance artist throughout the 60s. The album was followed by the more experimental Life With The Lions (Apple, 1969) and Wedding Album (Apple, 1969), and also a live album with Give Peace A Chance (a street chorus a la David Peel). Perhaps the best of Lennon can be found in the autobiographical album John Lennon/ Plastic Ono Band (Capitol, 1970), with a vibrant production by Phil Spector. The imprint of Spector's sound can also be heard in the single Instant Karma. Lennon found much more commercial success with the album that followed, Imagine (1971), which contains Imagine, his most famous song, besides Power to The People and Happy Christmas. Peace activism and involvement in humanitarian causes gave the couple more prominence than music ever did. Lennon scored a #1 hit with the duet with Elton John, Whatever Gets You Thru The Night (1974). An embarrassing string of mediocre albums ended with Double Fantasy (Geffen, 1980), released a couple of months before his death. It contains the hits Starting Over and Woman. (it also contains the famous sentence "Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans" but that was plagiarized from "Life is what happens to us while we are making other plans" by Allen Saunders, who originated the saying 23 years earlier).

McCartney managed a few albums worthy of the Beatles (as chance would have it produced by George Martin), except they were not called "The Beatles". As a testament to rock consumerism and all the worst the genre embodies, McCartney's songs (solo or in the company of Wings ) regularly bounced to the top of the charts. Between boring lullabies (Maybe I'm Amazed, 1970, Another Day, 1971, Uncle Albert, 1971, My Love, 1973, Band On The Run, 1973, Listen To What The Man Said, 1975, Silly Love Songs, 1976, With A Little Luck, 1978; Coming Up, 1980, No More Lonely Nights, 1984, Spies Like Us, 1985), and duets with other singers (Say Say Say, 1983, with Michael Jackson, Ebony And Ivory, 1982, with Stevie Wonder), McCartney holds the record for the most #1 songs on the Billboard charts. Band On The Run (Capitol, 1973) is perhaps least mediocre of his albums. Mull of Kintyre, (1977) is the first British single that sold more than two million copies. Very few pop singers have been able to release songs so predictable. Each "return to form" album of the 1980s and 1990s was worse than the previous one until Chaos and Creation in the Backyard (Capitol, 2005), produced by Nigel Godrich but mostly played by McCartney himself on all instruments. On the day of its release, Memory Almost Full (2007) was played all day in all Starbucks of the world, widely viewed a divine punishment for its customers.

While a trivial guitarist and vocalist, George Harrison (who died of cancer in November 2001) was perhaps the only one who made songs worthy of notice. First the experimental Wonderwall (Zapple, 1968) and Electronic Sounds (Zapple, 1969), with help from Bernie Krause (No Time Or Space, recorded and released by Harrison without Krause's knowledge nor permission), then the three-record box set All Things Must Pass (Apple, 1970), produced by Phil Spector, a reprise of the raga-psychedelic theme. Set in a bucolic-folk context, the album continues the discourse that Donovan had began in 1967 (What Is Life, Isn't It A Pity, Let It Down, Apple Scruffs, Art Of Dying, My Sweet Lord). This record has nothing in common with the music of the Beatles. A dedicated follower of Hare Krishna, among other platitudes of the 60s, Harrison organized the first grand concert to benefit a nation, Bangladesh, in 1972. In 1973 he recorded Living In The Material World with Give Me Love. Dark Horse (1974) and You (1975) were also hits. After a series of unfortunate albums, Harrison hit the charts in 1987, with I've Got My Mind Set On You, an old soul song by Rudy Clark. The following year he joined Dylan, Petty and Orbison to become one of the Traveling Wilburys.

Throughout the 90s McCartney and a few discographers desperately tried to keep the Beatles myth alive by launching new commercial enterprises geared toward nostalgia. These ventures were followed with interest by the same tabloids that followed Lady Di and Princess Grace of Monaco.

After the breakup, the role of George Martin became evident. We will never know what the Beatles would have been had they not encountered Martin, but we do know who Martin was before he met the Beatles. Even without the Beatles, George Martin would have been himself, a successful producer who reached the top of the charts with a collection of catchy tunes. And we also know what the Beatles were without Martin:four mediocre singer-songwriters. Their solo records tell us how good they were without Martin. Martin died in 2016.

The Beatles made history for their melodies and their arrangements. Beatlemania was created, justifiably, in response to the exuberant rock and roll they played in 1963 with electrical instruments and drums, that managed to revitalize a genre drowned in sugar coated orchestrations supporting teen idols. Revolver must definitely be credited with having created a new sophisticated living room pop art. However, Sgt. Pepper, their most famous album, is nothing more than a hypocritically commercial album, a collection of traditional pop songs masked as psychedelic avant garde music. It nevertheless served as a prelude to the baroque suite Abbey Road, the apex of their formality. Similar parallels can be found in almost every band of those times, but few listeners know the records of those bands.

Even at their best the Beatles did not represent the spirit of their generation. When they tried they were late, or even against the mainstream. At best they expressed the values of the generation that preceded theirs, the 40s. Those values were moral, musical, of the social order, and respect, the very values attacked in the 50s by rock and roll. Thus the fact that the songs of the Beatles were similar in lyrics, music and arrangements to those of Tin Pan Alley should not surprise anyone. Some of those songs will forever be listed in the annals of melodic music: Love Me Do, Hard Day's Night, I Feel Fine, We Can Work It Out, Penny Lane, Hello Goodbye, A Little Help From My Friends, Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds. For what it is worth, the everlasting refrains of those songs took rock and roll all the way down to a level of silliness and childish humor, separating it from its violent rebellious roots.

With out a shadow of a doubt, the Beatles were great melodicists, but at a time when melody was considered a reductive factor. As a matter of fact their melodies marked a regression to the 50s, to the type of singer the recording industry was desperately trying to push on the audience and against whom rock sought to rebel.

The Beatles tried every fashion exported by the US: Chuck Berry's rock and roll, the vocal harmonies of the Beach Boys, the romantic melody of Tin Pan Alley, the baroque sound of Pet Sounds (Beach Boys), the rock opera Absolutely Free (Frank Zappa), the psychedelic arrangements of the Electric Prunes and the like, the hard riffs of the blues-rock jams (Cream), the synthesis of folk-rock (launched by Dylan and the Grateful Dead). Yet the audience credited these innovations - brought about by others - to the Beatles. All things considered, their success is one of the greatest paradoxes of the century. The Beatles understood virtually nothing of what was happening around them, but the success of anything they copied was guaranteed. By buying their records, one bought a shortcut to the music of those times.

The enormous influence of the Beatles was not musical. Music, especially in those days, was something else: experimental, instrumental, improvised, political. The Beatles played pop ditties until the end. The most creative rock musicians of the time played everything but pop ditties, because rock was conceived as an alternative to ditties. FM radio was created to play rock music, not pop ditties. Alternative music magazines were born to review rock music, not pop songs. Evidently, to the kids who listened to the Beatles (mostly girls attracted by their looks), rock music had nothing to say that they were willing to listen to.

They were influential, yes, but on the customs - in the strictest sense of the word. Their influence, for better or for worse, on the great phenomena of the 60s does not amount to much. Unlike Bob Dylan, they did not stir social revolts; unlike the Jefferson Airplane and the Grateful Dead they did not foster the hippie movement; unlike Jim Morrison and Jimi Hendrix they did not further the myth of LSD; unlike Jagger and Zappa they had no impact on the sexual revolution. Indeed the Beatles were icons of the customs that embodied the opposite: the desire to contain all that was happening. In their songs there is no Vietnam, there is no politics, there are no kids rioting in the streets, there is no sexual promiscuity, there are no drugs, there is no violence. In the world of the Beatles the social order of the 1940s and the 1950s still reigns. At best they were influential on the secret dreams of young girls, and on the haircuts of young nerdy boys.

The Beatles had the historical function to serve as champions of the reaction. Their smiles and their choruses hid the revolution: they concealed the restlessness of an underground movement ready to explode, for a bourgeoisie who wanted to hear nothing about it.

They had nothing to say and that is why they never said it.
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The human race has travelled far since, those bygone ages when men used to fashion their rude implements of flint, and lived on the precarious spoils of the chase, leaving to their children for their only heritage a shelter beneath the rocks, some poor utensils — and Nature, vast, ununderstood, and terrific, with whom they had to fight for their wretched existence.

During the agitated times which have elapsed since, and which have lasted for many thousand years, mankind has nevertheless amassed untold treasures. It has cleared the land, dried the marshes, pierced the forests, made roads; it has been building, inventing, observing, reasoning; it has created a complex machinery, wrested her secrets from Nature, and finally it has made a servant of steam. And the result is, that now the child of the civilized man finds ready, at its birth, to his hand an immense capital accumulated by those who have gone before him. And this capital enables him to acquire, merely by his own labour, combined with the labour of others, riches surpassing the dreams of the Orient, expressed in the fairy tales of the Thousand and One Nights.

The soil is cleared to a great extent, fit for the reception of the best seeds, ready to make a rich return for the skill and labour spent upon it — a return more than sufficient for all the wants of humanity. The methods of cultivation are known.

On the wide prairies of America each hundred men, with the aid of powerful machinery, can produce in a few months enough wheat to maintain ten thousand people for a whole year. And where man wishes to double his produce, to treble it, to multiply it a hundred-fold, he makes the soil, gives to each plant the requisite care, and thus obtains enormous returns. While the hunter of old had to scour fifty or sixty square miles to find food for his family, the civilized man supports his household, with far less pains, and far more certainty, on a thousandth part of that space. Climate is no longer an obstacle. When the sun fails, man replaces it by artificial heat; and we see the coming of a time when artificial light also will be used to stimulate vegetation. Meanwhile, by the use of glass and hot water pipes, man renders a given space ten and fifty times more productive than it was in its natural state.

The prodigies accomplished in industry are still more striking. With the co-operation of those intelligent beings, modern machines — themselves the fruit of three or four generations of inventors, mostly unknown — a hundred men manufacture now the stuff to clothe ten thousand persons for a period of two years. In well-managed coal mines the labour of a hundred miners furnishes each year enough fuel to warm ten thousand families under an inclement sky. And we have lately witnessed twice the spectacle of a wonderful city springing up in a few months at Paris,[1] without interrupting in the slightest degree the regular work of the French nation.

And if in manufactures as in agriculture, and as indeed through our whole social system, the labour, the discoveries, and the inventions of our ancestors profit chiefly the few, it is none the less certain that mankind in general, aided by the creatures of steel and iron which it already possesses, could already procure an existence of wealth and ease for every one of its members.

Truly, we are rich, far richer than we think; rich in what we already possess, richer still in the possibilities of production of our actual mechanical outfit; richest of all in what we might win from our soil, from our manufactures, from our science, from our technical knowledge, were they but applied to bringing about the well-being of all.

II

We, in civilized societies, are rich. Why then are the many poor? Why this painful drudgery for the masses? Why, even to the best paid workman, this uncertainty for the morrow, in the midst of all the wealth inherited from the past, and in spite of the powerful means of production, which could ensure comfort to all in return for a few hours of daily toil?

The Socialists have said it and repeated it unwearyingly. Daily they reiterate it, demonstrating it by arguments taken from all the sciences. It is because all that is necessary for production — the land, the mines, the highways, machinery, food, shelter, education, knowledge — all have been seized by the few in the course of that long story of robbery, enforced migration and wars, of ignorance and oppression, which has been the life of the human race before it had learned to subdue the forces of Nature. It is because, taking advantage of alleged rights acquired in the past, these few appropriate to-day two-thirds of the products of human labour, and then squander them in the most stupid and shameful way. It is because, having reduced the masses to a point at which they have not the means of subsistence for a month, or even for a week in advance, the few only allow the many to work on condition of themselves receiving the lion’s share. It is because these few prevent the remainder of men from producing the things they need, and force them to produce, not the necessaries of life for all, but whatever offers the greatest profits to the monopolists. In this is the substance of all Socialism.

Take, indeed, a civilized country. The forests which once covered it have been cleared, the marshes drained, the climate improved. It has been made habitable. The soil, which bore formerly only a coarse vegetation, is covered to-day with rich harvests. The rock-walls in the valleys are laid out in terraces and covered with vines bearing golden fruit. The wild plants, which yielded nought but acrid berries, or uneatable roots, have been transformed by generations of culture into succulent vegetables, or trees covered with delicious fruits. Thousands of highways and railroads furrow the earth, and pierce the mountains. The shriek of the engine is heard in the wild gorges of the Alps, the Caucasus, and the Himalayas. The rivers have been made navigable; the coasts, carefully surveyed, are easy of access; artificial harbours, laboriously dug out and protected against the fury of the sea, afford shelter to the ships. Deep shafts have been sunk in the rocks; labyrinths of underground galleries have been dug out where coal may be raised or minerals extracted. At the crossings of the highways great cities have sprung up, and within their borders all the treasures of industry, science, and art have been accumulated.

Whole generations, that lived and died in misery, oppressed and ill-treated by their masters, and worn out by toil, have handed on this immense inheritance to our century.

For thousands of years millions of men have laboured to clear the forests, to drain the marshes, and to open up highways by land and water. Every rood of soil we cultivate in Europe has been watered by the sweat of several races of men. Every acre has its story of enforced labour, of intolerable toil, of the people’s sufferings. Every mile of railway, every yard of tunnel, has received its share of human blood.

The shafts of the mine still bear on their rocky walls the marks made by the pick of the workman who toiled to excavate them. The space between each prop in the underground galleries might be marked as a miner’s grave; and who can tell what each of these graves has cost, in tears, in privations, in unspeakable wretchedness to the family who depended on the scanty wage of the worker cut off in his prime by fire-damp, rock-fall, or flood?

The cities, bound together by railroads and waterways, are organisms which have lived through centuries. Dig beneath them and you find, one above another, the foundations of streets, of houses, of theatres, of public buildings. Search into their history and you will see how the civilization of the town, its industry, its special characteristics, have slowly grown and ripened through the co-operation of generations of its inhabitants before it could become what it is to-day. And even to-day; the value of each dwelling, factory, and warehouse, which has been created by the accumulated labour of the millions of workers, now dead and buried, is only maintained by the very presence and labour of legions of the men who now inhabit that special corner of the globe. Each of the atoms composing what we call the Wealth of Nations owes its value to the fact that it is a part of the great whole. What would a London dockyard or a great Paris warehouse be if they were not situated in these great centres of international commerce? What would become of our mines, our factories, our workshops, and our railways, without the immense quantities of merchandise transported every day by sea and land?

Millions of human beings have laboured to create this civilization on which we pride ourselves to-day. Other millions, scattered through the globe, labour to maintain it. Without them nothing would be left in fifty years but ruins.

There is not even a thought, or an invention, which is not common property, born of the past and the present. Thousands of inventors, known and unknown, who have died in poverty, have co-operated in the invention of each of these machines which embody the genius of man.

Thousands of writers, of poets, of scholars, have laboured to increase knowledge, to dissipate error, and to create that atmosphere of scientific thought, without which the marvels of our century could never have appeared. And these thousands of philosophers, of poets, of scholars, of inventors, have themselves been supported by the labour of past centuries. They have been upheld and nourished through life, both physically and mentally, by legions of workers and craftsmen of all sorts. They have drawn their motive force from the environment.

The genius of a Séguin, a Mayer, a Grove, has certainly done more to launch industry in new directions than all the capitalists in the world. But men of genius are themselves the children of industry as well as of science. Not until thousands of steam-engines had been working for years before all eyes, constantly transforming heat into dynamic force, and this force into sound, light, and electricity, could the insight of genius proclaim the mechanical origin and the unity of the physical forces. And if we, children of the nineteenth century, have at last grasped this idea, if we know now how to apply it, it is again because daily experience has prepared the way. The thinkers of the eighteenth century saw and declared it, but the idea remained undeveloped, because the eighteenth century had not grown up like ours, side by side with the steam-engine. Imagine the decades that might have passed while we remained in ignorance of this law, which has revolutionized modern industry, had Watt not found at Soho skilled workmen to embody his ideas in metal, bringing all the parts of his engine to perfection, so that steam, pent in a complete mechanism, and rendered more docile than a horse, more manageable than water, became at last the very soul of modern industry.

Every machine has had the same history — a long record of sleepless nights and of poverty, of disillusions and of joys, of partial improvements discovered by several generations of nameless workers, who have added to the original invention these little nothings, without which the most fertile idea would remain fruitless. More than that: every new invention is a synthesis, the resultant of innumerable inventions which have preceded it in the vast field of mechanics and industry.

Science and industry, knowledge and application, discovery and practical realization leading to new discoveries, cunning of brain and of hand, toil of mind and muscle — all work together. Each discovery, each advance, each increase in the sum of human riches, owes its being to the physical and mental travail of the past and the present.

By what right then can any one whatever appropriate the least morsel of this immense whole and say — This is mine, not yours?

III

It has come about, however, in the course of the ages traversed by the human race, that all that enables man to produce, and to increase his power of production, has been seized by the few. Sometime, perhaps, we will relate how this came to pass. For the present let it suffice to state the fact and analyse its consequences.

To-day the soil, which actually owes its value to the needs of an ever-increasing population, belongs to a minority who prevent the people from cultivating it — or do not allow them to cultivate it according to modern methods.

The mines, though they represent the labour of several generations, and derive their sole value from the requirements of the industry of a nation and the clensity of the population — the mines also belong to the few; and these few restrict the output of coal, or prevent it entirely, if they find more profitable investments for their capital. Machinery, too, has become the exclusive property of the few, and even when a machine incontestably represents the improvements added to the original rough invention by three or four generations of workers, it none the less belongs to a few owners. And if the descendants of the very inventor who constructed the first machine for lace-making, a century ago, were to present themselves to-day in a lace factory at Bâle or Nottingham, and demand their rights, they would be told: “Hands off! this machine is not yours,” and they would be shot down if they attempted to take possession of it.

The railways, which would be useless as so much old iron without the teeming population of Europe, its industry, its commerce, and its marts, belong to a few shareholders, ignorant perhaps of the whereabouts of the lines of rails which yield them revenues greater than those of medieval kings. And if the children of those who perished by thousands while excavating the railway cuttings and tunnels were to assemble one day, crowding in their rags and hunger, to demand bread from the shareholders, they would be met with bayonets and grape-shot, to disperse them and safeguard “vested interests.”

In virtue of this monstrous system, the son of the worker, on entering life, finds no field which he may till, no machine which he may tend, no mine in which he may dig, without accepting to leave a great part of what he will produce to a master. He must sell his labour for a scant and uncertain wage. His father and his grandfather have toiled to drain this field, to build this mill, to perfect this machine. They gave to the work the full measure of their strength, and what more could they give? But their heir comes into the world poorer than the lowest savage. If he obtains leave to till the fields, it is on condition of surrendering a quarter of the produce to his master, and another quarter to the government and the middlemen. And this tax, levied upon him by the State, the capitalist, the lord of the manor, and the middleman, is always increasing; it rarely leaves him the power to improve his system of culture. If he turns to industry, he is allowed to work — though not always even that — only on condition that he yield a half or two-thirds of the product to him whom the land recognizes as the owner of the machine.

We cry shame on the feudal baron who forbade the peasant to turn a clod of earth unless he surrendered to his lord a fourth of his crop. We call those the barbarous times. But if the forms have changed, the relations have remained the same, and the worker is forced, under the name of free contract, to accept feudal obligations. For, turn where he will, he can find no better conditions. Everything has become private property, and he must accept, or die of hunger.

The result of this state of things is that all our production tends in a wrong direction. Enterprise takes no thought for the needs of the community. Its only aim is to increase the gains of the speculator. Hence the constant fluctuations of trade, the periodical industrial crises, each of which throws scores of thousands of workers on the streets.

The working people cannot purchase with their wages the wealth which they have produced, and industry seeks foreign markets among the monied classes of other nations. In the East, in Africa, everywhere, in Egypt, Tonkin or the Congo, the European is thus bound to promote the growth of serfdom. And so he does. But soon he finds everywhere similar competitors. All the nations evolve on the same lines, and wars, perpetual wars, break out for the right of precedence in the market. Wars for the possession of the East, wars for the empire of the sea, wars to impose duties on imports and to dictate conditions to neighbouring states; wars against those “blacks” who revolt! The roar of the cannon never ceases in the world, whole races are massacred, the states of Europe spend a third of their budgets in armaments; and we know how heavily these taxes fall on the workers.

Education still remains the privilege of a small minority, for it is idle to talk of education when the workman’s child is forced, at the age of thirteen, to go down into the mine or to help his father on the farm. It is idle to talk of studies to the worker, who comes home in the evening crushed by excessive toil with its brutalizing atmosphere. Society is thus bound to remain divided into two hostile camps, and in such conditions freedom is a vain word. The Radical begins by demanding a greater extension of political rights, but he soon sees that the breath of liberty leads to the uplifting of the proletariat, and then he turns round, changes his opinions, and reverts to repressive legislation and government by the sword.

A vast array of courts, judges, executioners, policemen, and gaolers is needed to uphold these privileges; and this array gives rise in its turn to a whole system of espionage, of false witness, of spies, of threats and corruption.

The system under which we live checks in its turn the growth of the social sentiment. We all know that without uprightness, without self-respect, without sympathy and mutual aid, human kind must perish, as perish the few races of animals living by rapine, or the slave-keeping ants. But such ideas are not to the taste of the ruling classes, and they have elaborated a whole system of pseudo-science to teach the contrary.

Fine sermons have been preached on the text that those who have should share with those who have not, but he who would act out this principle is speedily informed that these beautiful sentiments are all very well in poetry, but not in practice. “To lie is to degrade and besmirch oneself,” we say, and yet all civilized life becomes one huge lie. We accustom ourselves and our children to hypocrisy, to the practice of a double-faced morality. And since the brain is ill at ease among lies, we cheat ourselves with sophistry. Hypocrisy and sophistry become the second nature of the civilized man.

But a society cannot live thus; it must return to truth or cease to exist.

Thus the consequences which spring from the original act of monopoly spread through the whole of social life. Under pain of death, human societies are forced to return to first principles: the means of production being the collective work of humanity, the product should be the collective property of the race. Individual appropriation is neither just nor serviceable. All belongs to all. All things are for all men, since all men have need of them, since all men have worked in the measure of their strength to produce them, and since it is not possible to evaluate every one’s part in the production of the world’s wealth.

All things are for all. Here is an immense stock of tools and implements; here are all those iron slaves which we call machines, which saw and plane, spin and weave for us, unmaking and remaking, working up raw matter to produce the marvels of our time. But nobody has the right to seize a single one of these machines and say, “This is mine; if you want to use it you must pay me a tax on each of your products,” any more than the feudal lord of medieval times had the right to say to the peasant, “This hill, this meadow belong to me, and you must pay me a tax on every sheaf of corn you reap, on every rick you build.”

All is for all! If the man and the woman bear their fair share of work, they have a right to their fair share of all that is produced by all, and that share is enough to secure them well-being. No more of such vague formulas as “The Right to work,” or “To each the whole result of his labour.” What we proclaim is THE RIGHT TO WELL-BEING: WELL-BEING FOR ALL!
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me in the future with children Turns stereo on "Blo, blo, blo, blo, blo, blo, blo, blo Oh no Blo, blo, blo, blo Hot head." "DAD! TURN THAT OFF! I"M TRYING TO READ!" "YOU JUST DON"T UNDERSTAND THE ANGER THAT THEY ARE TRYING TO PORTRAY!" *shoves head in pillow and cry about past regrets "Blo, blo, blo, blo, blo, blo, blo Hot head, oh no Pedagogue grab the microphone, ease up" "Dad they're just a bunch of edgy dudes trying to act tough a-" *turns off stereo "Excuse me??! Clearly your idiotic childish mind cannot comprehend complex ideas and messages. Any entry-level music consumer with half a brain could see that they're clearly operating under irony; the extreme nature of their lyrics and public image is meant to subvert our expectations of how commercial hip hop should sound. You ignorant dirt child. I am ashamed to call you my offspring. Go to your room at once." kid goes upstairs turns on Punk Weight "'Cause I'm too high, too high Feel like I'm never ever Gonna come down Scale richtor punk weight Of dis sound!!!" meanwhile upstairs kid goes on computer "Well, better see what's going down on social media!" sees fashion posts "Wow, this is some interesting stuff!" . . . a few years later... kid is now grown up, and an aspiring fashion designer/model, premiering new design * *its literally just an old shirt with blue paint all over his body "Hey folks, how are y'all? This style is rocking the nation in 2050! In fashion catalogs! I thought fashion was dead, then I came up with this! I started putting on old, cheap clothes…what happened text shocked me! How to lookin wylin like Beyonce (old people joke) on the budget of Mac Demarco (dad rock joke)! I’m a liberal arts major who just graduated college, what job I didn’t find next probably didn’t shock you. I’m a liberal arts major who gets mad at my parents for telling me I should have gone into something more practical, what my parents say might strike you as reasonable! 28 ways you shock your parents, you won’t believe how true number 6 is (it’s about me choosing to get an associates degree in Meat Fabric Studies (the hot new liberal arts major.)) How to impress your parents in the 21st century by keeping a part time job for more than a week!" A few years later, and the kid is now an acclaimed fashion designer accepting a reward "Thank you everyone for your support. I'd like to thank my dad for being unkind and destructive towards me. Without his influence, my tortured soul would never have become a fashion desginer! In fact, I'm also here to announce the launch of my new fashion line! applause And now, a performance by one of my dad's favorite artists, Primus!" Primus ges on stage "HEY!!" Tommy the Cat starts playing "SAY BABY DO YA WANNA LAY DOWN BY ME SAY BABY DO YOU WANNA LAY DOWN BY M-" a coke from the audience hits Les Claypool in the head "OW! Now which one of you threw that coke at me?" Les Claypool immediately finds who hurt him and throws a 200mph fastcoke at their head "OW!" dies Now where were we, my dudes? Unfortunately for Claypool. That blow to the head did enough damage to deteriorate his health. This next segment is a documentary about Les Claypool’s best friend, former Nsync founder Chris Kirkpatrick. Chris approaches camera "Les, buddy…how are you doing? It’s me, your buddy Chris Kirkpatrick…you can come out from under the bed…" Les Claypool emerges from under the bed "I only have 3 months to live....." Chris: "AAAAHHHHHHH" At this point, the camera shakes and cuts off. satellite connection becomes fuzzy after a few seconds the satellite picks up the documentary channel, where we see Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson and Mark Wahlberg standing side by side "I’m Dwayne Johnson, and this is my best friend, lover, soulmate Mark. We met at a cheeseburger social for uneducated youths in the Pittsburgh area. We shook hands, talked some small talk…then fireworks happen. We hung out at the condo I used to live in on third street. It started out as any other night, then he complained about a small rash on his behind. This lead to me cleaning the rim of his asshole with the tip of my tongue. It took 2 hours to get that thing clean enough for me to eat out of. Which, I did. I sprayed Cheez Kool (I couldn’t afford Cheez Wiz because of my expensive condo) inside his colon and sucked the chocolate cheesecake out. Over that long (but it felt so short!) summer, we experimented so much. I gutted his taint hair completely off using but only my bottom teeth and my sheer swallowing power. He sucked the cum out of my penis so hard that the skin of my scrotum collapsed and conformed to the exact shape of my testicles. I felt like a craisin in the sun and had to refrain from sexual activities or urinating for three days. During that period of time, I shoved a cherry pepper in his ass and left it there for a week to ferment. Then, I used this newly Mark fermented pickled pepper in my chef salad.

We did plenty more…from urethra insertion to drunk blumpkins. But he had to return to his hometown of Santa Fe…and I vowed to always remember him. I’ll never forget the summer of ‘69.....

Hi, Hambone Henry here with Men Who Hate Meat, also known as The MWHM association for wayward divorcees! Hate meat? Hate your ex wife? Well, come on down to the giant chicken leg shaped building on 183 and Research B-

The man behind the steering wheel shuts off the radio.

“Aw man, screw the MWHM. I don’t need them anymore.” Dwayne Johnson smiles gleefully, looking out the window Especially since you’re back in town, Mark. This sphinck sphinck needs a good spring cleaning…and since you’re here….it’s April, baby. Where shall we meet?" Mark: "I’m actually at the farmers market right now, Dirty Dumpling…pickin up some cucumbers for my long delayed rocktal (rock’s rectal) dive. How about you meat, hehe…meet me here?" Dwayne: "Sounds good! Love you, my septic sweetie!" Mark: "yeah, yeah…you too." Mark turns around to ask a produce farmer a question Mark: "Hey, you guys got more of those jumbo size cukes you were selling last week?"

Farmer: “Actually, my son is at our farm across the street…let me call him for ya real fast.” he pulls out his phone "Mike, could you grab more of those extra large cucumbers while you’re there? Oh, just some beefcake. I think he’s going to be using them for anal play. Well, fuck Mike! I don’t care how they use them…if we give away our sweet vegetables that help with angina…and get the money in our hands I don’t care what hole are vaginas end up in. Maybe if you weren’t such a bigot, we’d be making a little more do-"

“Alright, alright alright! I’ll do it dad!”

His son, Ron, slams down the phone

(5 minutes later…Ron walks back to the farm.) "Hotter than that sweet twink uh-hot chick I screwed last week. Good grief. I can’t breathe in these clothes." Ron takes all of his clothing off, including his undergarments "Fudge it… it’s rural california. nobody is going to give a shi-oO about cussed-crap about me being naked. This gay hunk back at the farmers market will get a free show anyways…maybe he’ll take me home and rearrange my intestines for m- son of a bitch, Ron FUCK! Goddamn it I swore! This is how it’s going, huh? This is how it’s fucking going. I was a gotdamn Christian super straight porn star and now both of my cocksucki-pussy lickin holes need to be cleaned out with SOAP! I wasn’t raised to be a gay cusser!!! And to THINK! TO THINK!!! THAT I USED TO BE A-"

A car slams into Ron, decapitating him right on impact. A figure, panicked, jumps out of the car

Dwayne: "Lord have mercy….. those were the cucumbers I was going to buy!" SLAM!

R. L Stine, at a book signing somewhere, closes his copy of his new book that he was reading an excerpt of "Well, guess what, you dirty bottom-feeders? That’s the only fucking sneak peak you get. You guys make my old white ass travel all over The United States to give you JUST THE TIP of the beautifully massive hard member that is my goddamn masterpieces of books, and you guys don’t even give me a fucking nickel. I’m done shaking your hands. I’m done ear fucking you with my milky voice. I’m done signing your boo-somebody pushing a book towards him and he slams it down no fuck you stop it let my finish my goddamn sentence i’m done signing your fucking books. Get your copy of Two Powerbottoms Give California The Enema It Won’t Forget now and get out of my fucking face before I go ham on your asses." RL Stine stands up and walks away

AND DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT COMING TO THE RED LOBSTER ON BURNET ROAD I’M farts fuck I’M DINING THERE PRIVATELY! Rented out the whole place for me and my son IT WILL BE VERY ENJOYABLE!"
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Manifesto of the Communist Party
A spectre is haunting Europe – the spectre of communism. All the powers of old Europe have
entered into a holy alliance to exorcise this spectre: Pope and Tsar, Metternich and Guizot,
French Radicals and German police-spies.
Where is the party in opposition that has not been decried as communistic by its opponents in
power? Where is the opposition that has not hurled back the branding reproach of communism,
against the more advanced opposition parties, as well as against its reactionary adversaries?
Two things result from this fact:
I. Communism is already acknowledged by all European powers to be itself a
power.
II. It is high time that Communists should openly, in the face of the whole world,
publish their views, their aims, their tendencies, and meet this nursery tale of the
Spectre of Communism with a manifesto of the party itself.
To this end, Communists of various nationalities have assembled in London and sketched the
following manifesto, to be published in the English, French, German, Italian, Flemish and Danish
languages.
I. Bourgeois and Proletarians*
The history of all hitherto existing society†
is the history of class struggles.
Freeman and slave, patrician and plebeian, lord and serf, guild-master‡
and journeyman, in a
word, oppressor and oppressed, stood in constant opposition to one another, carried on an
uninterrupted, now hidden, now open fight, a fight that each time ended, either in a revolutionary
reconstitution of society at large, or in the common ruin of the contending classes.
In the earlier epochs of history, we find almost everywhere a complicated arrangement of society
into various orders, a manifold gradation of social rank. In ancient Rome we have patricians,
knights, plebeians, slaves; in the Middle Ages, feudal lords, vassals, guild-masters, journeymen,
apprentices, serfs; in almost all of these classes, again, subordinate gradations.
The modern bourgeois society that has sprouted from the ruins of feudal society has not done
away with class antagonisms. It has but established new classes, new conditions of oppression,
new forms of struggle in place of the old ones.
Our epoch, the epoch of the bourgeoisie, possesses, however, this distinct feature: it has
simplified class antagonisms. Society as a whole is more and more splitting up into two great
hostile camps, into two great classes directly facing each other – Bourgeoisie and Proletariat.
From the serfs of the Middle Ages sprang the chartered burghers of the earliest towns. From these
burgesses the first elements of the bourgeoisie were developed.
The discovery of America, the rounding of the Cape, opened up fresh ground for the rising
bourgeoisie. The East-Indian and Chinese markets, the colonisation of America, trade with the
colonies, the increase in the means of exchange and in commodities generally, gave to commerce,
to navigation, to industry, an impulse never before known, and thereby, to the revolutionary
element in the tottering feudal society, a rapid development.
The feudal system of industry, in which industrial production was monopolised by closed guilds,
now no longer sufficed for the growing wants of the new markets. The manufacturing system
took its place. The guild-masters were pushed on one side by the manufacturing middle class;
division of labour between the different corporate guilds vanished in the face of division of labour
in each single workshop.
Meantime the markets kept ever growing, the demand ever rising. Even manufacturer no longer
sufficed. Thereupon, steam and machinery revolutionised industrial production. The place of
manufacture was taken by the giant, Modern Industry; the place of the industrial middle class by
industrial millionaires, the leaders of the whole industrial armies, the modern bourgeois.
Modern industry has established the world market, for which the discovery of America paved the
way. This market has given an immense development to commerce, to navigation, to
communication by land. This development has, in its turn, reacted on the extension of industry;
and in proportion as industry, commerce, navigation, railways extended, in the same proportion
the bourgeoisie developed, increased its capital, and pushed into the background every class
handed down from the Middle Ages.
We see, therefore, how the modern bourgeoisie is itself the product of a long course of
development, of a series of revolutions in the modes of production and of exchange.
Each step in the development of the bourgeoisie was accompanied by a corresponding political
advance of that class. An oppressed class under the sway of the feudal nobility, an armed and
self-governing association in the medieval commune*
: here independent urban republic (as in
Italy and Germany); there taxable “third estate” of the monarchy (as in France); afterwards, in the
period of manufacturing proper, serving either the semi-feudal or the absolute monarchy as a
counterpoise against the nobility, and, in fact, cornerstone of the great monarchies in general, the
bourgeoisie has at last, since the establishment of Modern Industry and of the world market,
conquered for itself, in the modern representative State, exclusive political sway. The executive
of the modern state is but a committee for managing the common affairs of the whole
bourgeoisie.
The bourgeoisie, historically, has played a most revolutionary part.
The bourgeoisie, wherever it has got the upper hand, has put an end to all feudal, patriarchal,
idyllic relations. It has pitilessly torn asunder the motley feudal ties that bound man to his
“natural superiors”, and has left remaining no other nexus between man and man than naked selfinterest,
than callous “cash payment”. It has drowned the most heavenly ecstasies of religious fervour, of chivalrous enthusiasm, of philistine sentimentalism, in the icy water of egotistical
calculation. It has resolved personal worth into exchange value, and in place of the numberless
indefeasible chartered freedoms, has set up that single, unconscionable freedom – Free Trade. In
one word, for exploitation, veiled by religious and political illusions, it has substituted naked,
shameless, direct, brutal exploitation.
The bourgeoisie has stripped of its halo every occupation hitherto honoured and looked up to with
reverent awe. It has converted the physician, the lawyer, the priest, the poet, the man of science,
into its paid wage labourers.
The bourgeoisie has torn away from the family its sentimental veil, and has reduced the family
relation to a mere money relation.
The bourgeoisie has disclosed how it came to pass that the brutal display of vigour in the Middle
Ages, which reactionaries so much admire, found its fitting complement in the most slothful
indolence. It has been the first to show what man’s activity can bring about. It has accomplished
wonders far surpassing Egyptian pyramids, Roman aqueducts, and Gothic cathedrals; it has
conducted expeditions that put in the shade all former Exoduses of nations and crusades.
The bourgeoisie cannot exist without constantly revolutionising the instruments of production,
and thereby the relations of production, and with them the whole relations of society.
Conservation of the old modes of production in unaltered form, was, on the contrary, the first
condition of existence for all earlier industrial classes. Constant revolutionising of production,
uninterrupted disturbance of all social conditions, everlasting uncertainty and agitation
distinguish the bourgeois epoch from all earlier ones. All fixed, fast-frozen relations, with their
train of ancient and venerable prejudices and opinions, are swept away, all new-formed ones
become antiquated before they can ossify. All that is solid melts into air, all that is holy is
profaned, and man is at last compelled to face with sober senses his real conditions of life, and his
relations with his kind.
The need of a constantly expanding market for its products chases the bourgeoisie over the entire
surface of the globe. It must nestle everywhere, settle everywhere, establish connexions
everywhere.
The bourgeoisie has through its exploitation of the world market given a cosmopolitan character
to production and consumption in every country. To the great chagrin of Reactionists, it has
drawn from under the feet of industry the national ground on which it stood. All old-established
national industries have been destroyed or are daily being destroyed. They are dislodged by new
industries, whose introduction becomes a life and death question for all civilised nations, by
industries that no longer work up indigenous raw material, but raw material drawn from the
remotest zones; industries whose products are consumed, not only at home, but in every quarter
of the globe. In place of the old wants, satisfied by the production of the country, we find new
wants, requiring for their satisfaction the products of distant lands and climes. In place of the old
local and national seclusion and self-sufficiency, we have intercourse in every direction, universal
inter-dependence of nations. And as in material, so also in intellectual production. The intellectual
creations of individual nations become common property. National one-sidedness and narrowmindedness
become more and more impossible, and from the numerous national and local
literatures, there arises a world literature.
The bourgeoisie, by the rapid improvement of all instruments of production, by the immensely
facilitated means of communication, draws all, even the most barbarian, nations into civilisation.
The cheap prices of commodities are the heavy artillery with which it batters down all Chinese
walls, with which it forces the barbarians’ intensely obstinate hatred of foreigners to capitulate. It
compels all nations, on pain of extinction, to adopt the bourgeois mode of production; it compels
them to introduce what it calls civilisation into their midst, i.e., to become bourgeois themselves.
In one word, it creates a world after its own image.
The bourgeoisie has subjected the country to the rule of the towns. It has created enormous cities,
has greatly increased the urban population as compared with the rural, and has thus rescued a
considerable part of the population from the idiocy of rural life. Just as it has made the country
dependent on the towns, so it has made barbarian and semi-barbarian countries dependent on the
civilised ones, nations of peasants on nations of bourgeois, the East on the West.
The bourgeoisie keeps more and more doing away with the scattered state of the population, of
the means of production, and of property. It has agglomerated population, centralised the means
of production, and has concentrated property in a few hands. The necessary consequence of this
was political centralisation. Independent, or but loosely connected provinces, with separate
interests, laws, governments, and systems of taxation, became lumped together into one nation,
with one government, one code of laws, one national class-interest, one frontier, and one
customs-tariff.
The bourgeoisie, during its rule of scarce one hundred years, has created more massive and more
colossal productive forces than have all preceding generations together. Subjection of Nature’s
forces to man, machinery, application of chemistry to industry and agriculture, steam-navigation,
railways, electric telegraphs, clearing of whole continents for cultivation, canalisation of rivers,
whole populations conjured out of the ground – what earlier century had even a presentiment that
such productive forces slumbered in the lap of social labour?
We see then: the means of production and of exchange, on whose foundation the bourgeoisie built
itself up, were generated in feudal society. At a certain stage in the development of these means
of production and of exchange, the conditions under which feudal society produced and
exchanged, the feudal organisation of agriculture and manufacturing industry, in one word, the
feudal relations of property became no longer compatible with the already developed productive
forces; they became so many fetters. They had to be burst asunder; they were burst asunder.
Into their place stepped free competition, accompanied by a social and political constitution
adapted in it, and the economic and political sway of the bourgeois class.
A similar movement is going on before our own eyes. Modern bourgeois society, with its
relations of production, of exchange and of property, a society that has conjured up such gigantic
means of production and of exchange, is like the sorcerer who is no longer able to control the
powers of the nether world whom he has called up by his spells. For many a decade past the
history of industry and commerce is but the history of the revolt of modern productive forces
against modern conditions of production, against the property relations that are the conditions for
the existence of the bourgeois and of its rule. It is enough to mention the commercial crises that
by their periodical return put the existence of the entire bourgeois society on its trial, each time
more threateningly. In these crises, a great part not only of the existing products, but also of the
previously created productive forces, are periodically destroyed. In these crises, there breaks out
an epidemic that, in all earlier epochs, would have seemed an absurdity – the epidemic of overproduction.
Society suddenly finds itself put back into a state of momentary barbarism; it appears
as if a famine, a universal war of devastation, had cut off the supply of every means of
subsistence; industry and commerce seem to be destroyed; and why? Because there is too much
civilisation, too much means of subsistence, too much industry, too much commerce. The
productive forces at the disposal of society no longer tend to further the development of the
conditions of bourgeois property; on the contrary, they have become too powerful for these
conditions, by which they are fettered, and so soon as they overcome these fetters, they bring
disorder into the whole of bourgeois society, endanger the existence of bourgeois property. The
conditions of bourgeois society are too narrow to comprise the wealth created by them. And how
does the bourgeoisie get over these crises? On the one hand by enforced destruction of a mass of
productive forces; on the other, by the conquest of new markets, and by the more thorough
exploitation of the old ones. That is to say, by paving the way for more extensive and more
destructive crises, and by diminishing the means whereby crises are prevented.
The weapons with which the bourgeoisie felled feudalism to the ground are now turned against
the bourgeoisie itself.
But not only has the bourgeoisie forged the weapons that bring death to itself; it has also called
into existence the men who are to wield those weapons – the modern working class – the
proletarians.
In proportion as the bourgeoisie, i.e., capital, is developed, in the same proportion is the
proletariat, the modern working class, developed – a class of labourers, who live only so long as
they find work, and who find work only so long as their labour increases capital. These labourers,
who must sell themselves piecemeal, are a commodity, like every other article of commerce, and
are consequently exposed to all the vicissitudes of competition, to all the fluctuations of the
market.
Owing to the extensive use of machinery, and to the division of labour, the work of the
proletarians has lost all individual character, and, consequently, all charm for the workman. He
becomes an appendage of the machine, and it is only the most simple, most monotonous, and
most easily acquired knack, that is required of him. Hence, the cost of production of a workman is
restricted, almost entirely, to the means of subsistence that he requires for maintenance, and for
the propagation of his race. But the price of a commodity, and therefore also of labour, is equal to
its cost of production. In proportion, therefore, as the repulsiveness of the work increases, the
wage decreases. Nay more, in proportion as the use of machinery and division of labour
increases, in the same proportion the burden of toil also increases, whether by prolongation of the
working hours, by the increase of the work exacted in a given time or by increased speed of
machinery, etc.
Modern Industry has converted the little workshop of the patriarchal master into the great factory
of the industrial capitalist. Masses of labourers, crowded into the factory, are organised like
soldiers. As privates of the industrial army they are placed under the command of a perfect
hierarchy of officers and sergeants. Not only are they slaves of the bourgeois class, and of the
bourgeois State; they are daily and hourly enslaved by the machine, by the overlooker, and, above
all, by the individual bourgeois manufacturer himself. The more openly this despotism proclaims
gain to be its end and aim, the more petty, the more hateful and the more embittering it is.
The less the skill and exertion of strength implied in manual labour, in other words, the more
modern industry becomes developed, the more is the labour of men superseded by that of women.
Differences of age and sex have no longer any distinctive social validity for the working class.
All are instruments of labour, more or less expensive to use, according to their age and sex.
No sooner is the exploitation of the labourer by the manufacturer, so far, at an end, that he
receives his wages in cash, than he is set upon by the other portions of the bourgeoisie, the
landlord, the shopkeeper, the pawnbroker, etc.
The lower strata of the middle class – the small tradespeople, shopkeepers, and retired tradesmen
generally, the handicraftsmen and peasants – all these sink gradually into the proletariat, partly
because their diminutive capital does not suffice for the scale on which Modern Industry is
carried on, and is swamped in the competition with the large capitalists, partly because their
specialised skill is rendered worthless by new methods of production. Thus the proletariat is
recruited from all classes of the population.
The proletariat goes through various stages of development. With its birth begins its struggle with
the bourgeoisie. At first the contest is carried on by individual labourers, then by the workpeople
of a factory, then by the operative of one trade, in one locality, against the individual bourgeois
who directly exploits them. They direct their attacks not against the bourgeois conditions of
production, but against the instruments of production themselves; they destroy imported wares
that compete with their labour, they smash to pieces machinery, they set factories ablaze, they
seek to restore by force the vanished status of the workman of the Middle Ages.
At this stage, the labourers still form an incoherent mass scattered over the whole country, and
broken up by their mutual competition. If anywhere they unite to form more compact bodies, this
is not yet the consequence of their own active union, but of the union of the bourgeoisie, which
class, in order to attain its own political ends, is compelled to set the whole proletariat in motion,
and is moreover yet, for a time, able to do so. At this stage, therefore, the proletarians do not fight
their enemies, but the enemies of their enemies, the remnants of absolute monarchy, the
landowners, the non-industrial bourgeois, the petty bourgeois. Thus, the whole historical
movement is concentrated in the hands of the bourgeoisie; every victory so obtained is a victory
for the bourgeoisie.
But with the development of industry, the proletariat not only increases in number; it becomes
concentrated in greater masses, its strength grows, and it feels that strength more. The various
interests and conditions of life within the ranks of the proletariat are more and more equalised, in
proportion as machinery obliterates all distinctions of labour, and nearly everywhere reduces
wages to the same low level. The growing competition among the bourgeois, and the resulting
commercial crises, make the wages of the workers ever more fluctuating. The increasing
improvement of machinery, ever more rapidly developing, makes their livelihood more and more
precarious; the collisions between individual workmen and individual bourgeois take more and
more the character of collisions between two classes. Thereupon, the workers begin to form
combinations (Trades’ Unions) against the bourgeois; they club together in order to keep up the
rate of wages; they found permanent associations in order to make provision beforehand for these
occasional revolts. Here and there, the contest breaks out into riots.
Now and then the workers are victorious, but only for a time. The real fruit of their battles lies,
not in the immediate result, but in the ever expanding union of the workers. This union is helped
on by the improved means of communication that are created by modern industry, and that place
the workers of different localities in contact with one another. It was just this contact that was
needed to centralise the numerous local struggles, all of the same character, into one national
struggle between classes. But every class struggle is a political struggle. And that union, to attain
which the burghers of the Middle Ages, with their miserable highways, required centuries, the
modern proletarian, thanks to railways, achieve in a few years.
This organisation of the proletarians into a class, and, consequently into a political party, is
continually being upset again by the competition between the workers themselves. But it ever
rises up again, stronger, firmer, mightier. It compels legislative recognition of particular interests
of the workers, by taking advantage of the divisions among the bourgeoisie itself. Thus, the tenhours’
bill in England was carried.
Altogether collisions between the classes of the old society further, in many ways, the course of
development of the proletariat. The bourgeoisie finds itself involved in a constant battle. At first
with the aristocracy; later on, with those portions of the bourgeoisie itself, whose interests have
become antagonistic to the progress of industry; at all time with the bourgeoisie of foreign
countries. In all these battles, it sees itself compelled to appeal to the proletariat, to ask for help,
and thus, to drag it into the political arena. The bourgeoisie itself, therefore, supplies the
proletariat with its own elements of political and general education, in other words, it furnishes
the proletariat with weapons for fighting the bourgeoisie.
Further, as we have already seen, entire sections of the ruling class are, by the advance of
industry, precipitated into the proletariat, or are at least threatened in their conditions of existence.
These also supply the proletariat with fresh elements of enlightenment and progress.
Finally, in times when the class struggle nears the decisive hour, the progress of dissolution going
on within the ruling class, in fact within the whole range of old society, assumes such a violent,
glaring character, that a small section of the ruling class cuts itself adrift, and joins the
revolutionary class, the class that holds the future in its hands. Just as, therefore, at an earlier period, a section of the nobility went over to the bourgeoisie, so now a portion of the bourgeoisie
goes over to the proletariat, and in particular, a portion of the bourgeois ideologists, who have
raised themselves to the level of comprehending theoretically the historical movement as a whole.
Of all the classes that stand face to face with the bourgeoisie today, the proletariat alone is a
really revolutionary class. The other classes decay and finally disappear in the face of Modern
Industry; the proletariat is its special and essential product.
The lower middle class, the small manufacturer, the shopkeeper, the artisan, the peasant, all these
fight against the bourgeoisie, to save from extinction their existence as fractions of the middle
class. They are therefore not revolutionary, but conservative. Nay more, they are reactionary, for
they try to roll back the wheel of history. If by chance, they are revolutionary, they are only so in
view of their impending transfer into the proletariat; they thus defend not their present, but their
future interests, they desert their own standpoint to place themselves at that of the proletariat.
The “dangerous class”, [lumpenproletariat] the social scum, that passively rotting mass thrown
off by the lowest layers of the old society, may, here and there, be swept into the movement by a
proletarian revolution; its conditions of life, however, prepare it far more for the part of a bribed
tool of reactionary intrigue.
In the condition of the proletariat, those of old society at large are already virtually swamped. The
proletarian is without property; his relation to his wife and children has no longer anything in
common with the bourgeois family relations; modern industry labour, modern subjection to
capital, the same in England as in France, in America as in Germany, has stripped him of every
trace of national character. Law, morality, religion, are to him so many bourgeois prejudices,
behind which lurk in ambush just as many bourgeois interests.
All the preceding classes that got the upper hand sought to fortify their already acquired status by
subjecting society at large to their conditions of appropriation. The proletarians cannot become
masters of the productive forces of society, except by abolishing their own previous mode of
appropriation, and thereby also every other previous mode of appropriation. They have nothing of
their own to secure and to fortify; their mission is to destroy all previous securities for, and
insurances of, individual property.
All previous historical movements were movements of minorities, or in the interest of minorities.
The proletarian movement is the self-conscious, independent movement of the immense majority,
in the interest of the immense majority. The proletariat, the lowest stratum of our present society,
cannot stir, cannot raise itself up, without the whole superincumbent strata of official society
being sprung into the air.
Though not in substance, yet in form, the struggle of the proletariat with the bourgeoisie is at first
a national struggle. The proletariat of each country must, of course, first of all settle matters with
its own bourgeoisie.
In depicting the most general phases of the development of the proletariat, we traced the more or
less veiled civil war, raging within existing society, up to the point where that war breaks out into
open revolution, and where the violent overthrow of the bourgeoisie lays the foundation for the
sway of the proletariat.
Hitherto, every form of society has been based, as we have already seen, on the antagonism of
oppressing and oppressed classes. But in order to oppress a class, certain conditions must be
assured to it under which it can, at least, continue its slavish existence. The serf, in the period of
serfdom, raised himself to membership in the commune, just as the petty bourgeois, under the
yoke of the feudal absolutism, managed to develop into a bourgeois. The modern labourer, on the
contrary, instead of rising with the process of industry, sinks deeper and deeper below the
conditions of existence of his own class. He becomes a pauper, and pauperism develops more
rapidly than population and wealth. And here it becomes evident, that the bourgeoisie is unfit any
longer to be the ruling class in society, and to impose its conditions of existence upon society as an over-riding law. It is unfit to rule because it is incompetent to assure an existence to its slave
within his slavery, because it cannot help letting him sink into such a state, that it has to feed him,
instead of being fed by him. Society can no longer live under this bourgeoisie, in other words, its
existence is no longer compatible with society.
The essential conditions for the existence and for the sway of the bourgeois class is the formation
and augmentation of capital; the condition for capital is wage-labour. Wage-labour rests
exclusively on competition between the labourers. The advance of industry, whose involuntary
promoter is the bourgeoisie, replaces the isolation of the labourers, due to competition, by the
revolutionary combination, due to association. The development of Modern Industry, therefore,
cuts from under its feet the very foundation on which the bourgeoisie produces and appropriates
products. What the bourgeoisie therefore produces, above all, are its own grave-diggers. Its fall
and the victory of the proletariat are equally inevitable.

II. Proletarians and Communists
In what relation do the Communists stand to the proletarians as a whole?
The Communists do not form a separate party opposed to the other working-class parties.
They have no interests separate and apart from those of the proletariat as a whole.
They do not set up any sectarian principles of their own, by which to shape and mould the
proletarian movement.
The Communists are distinguished from the other working-class parties by this only: 1. In the
national struggles of the proletarians of the different countries, they point out and bring to the
front the common interests of the entire proletariat, independently of all nationality. 2. In the
various stages of development which the struggle of the working class against the bourgeoisie has
to pass through, they always and everywhere represent the interests of the movement as a whole.
The Communists, therefore, are on the one hand, practically, the most advanced and resolute
section of the working-class parties of every country, that section which pushes forward all
others; on the other hand, theoretically, they have over the great mass of the proletariat the
advantage of clearly understanding the line of march, the conditions, and the ultimate general
results of the proletarian movement.
The immediate aim of the Communists is the same as that of all other proletarian parties:
formation of the proletariat into a class, overthrow of the bourgeois supremacy, conquest of
political power by the proletariat.
The theoretical conclusions of the Communists are in no way based on ideas or principles that
have been invented, or discovered, by this or that would-be universal reformer.
They merely express, in general terms, actual relations springing from an existing class struggle,
from a historical movement going on under our very eyes. The abolition of existing property
relations is not at all a distinctive feature of communism.
All property relations in the past have continually been subject to historical change consequent
upon the change in historical conditions.
The French Revolution, for example, abolished feudal property in favour of bourgeois property.
The distinguishing feature of Communism is not the abolition of property generally, but the
abolition of bourgeois property. But modern bourgeois private property is the final and most
complete expression of the system of producing and appropriating products, that is based on class
antagonisms, on the exploitation of the many by the few.
In this sense, the theory of the Communists may be summed up in the single sentence: Abolition
of private property.
We Communists have been reproached with the desire of abolishing the right of personally
acquiring property as the fruit of a man’s own labour, which property is alleged to be the
groundwork of all personal freedom, activity and independence.
Hard-won, self-acquired, self-earned property! Do you mean the property of petty artisan and of
the small peasant, a form of property that preceded the bourgeois form? There is no need to
abolish that; the development of industry has to a great extent already destroyed it, and is still
destroying it daily.
Or do you mean the modern bourgeois private property?
But does wage-labour create any property for the labourer? Not a bit. It creates capital, i.e., that
kind of property which exploits wage-labour, and which cannot increase except upon condition of
begetting a new supply of wage-labour for fresh exploitation. Property, in its present form, is based on the antagonism of capital and wage labour. Let us examine both sides of this
antagonism.
To be a capitalist, is to have not only a purely personal, but a social status in production. Capital
is a collective product, and only by the united action of many members, nay, in the last resort,
only by the united action of all members of society, can it be set in motion.
Capital is therefore not only personal; it is a social power.
When, therefore, capital is converted into common property, into the property of all members of
society, personal property is not thereby transformed into social property. It is only the social
character of the property that is changed. It loses its class character.
Let us now take wage-labour.
The average price of wage-labour is the minimum wage, i.e., that quantum of the means of
subsistence which is absolutely requisite to keep the labourer in bare existence as a labourer.
What, therefore, the wage-labourer appropriates by means of his labour, merely suffices to
prolong and reproduce a bare existence. We by no means intend to abolish this personal
appropriation of the products of labour, an appropriation that is made for the maintenance and
reproduction of human life, and that leaves no surplus wherewith to command the labour of
others. All that we want to do away with is the miserable character of this appropriation, under
which the labourer lives merely to increase capital, and is allowed to live only in so far as the
interest of the ruling class requires it.
In bourgeois society, living labour is but a means to increase accumulated labour. In Communist
society, accumulated labour is but a means to widen, to enrich, to promote the existence of the
labourer.
In bourgeois society, therefore, the past dominates the present; in Communist society, the present
dominates the past. In bourgeois society capital is independent and has individuality, while the
living person is dependent and has no individuality.
And the abolition of this state of things is called by the bourgeois, abolition of individuality and
freedom! And rightly so. The abolition of bourgeois individuality, bourgeois independence, and
bourgeois freedom is undoubtedly aimed at.
By freedom is meant, under the present bourgeois conditions of production, free trade, free
selling and buying.
But if selling and buying disappears, free selling and buying disappears also. This talk about free
selling and buying, and all the other “brave words” of our bourgeois about freedom in general,
have a meaning, if any, only in contrast with restricted selling and buying, with the fettered
traders of the Middle Ages, but have no meaning when opposed to the Communistic abolition of
buying and selling, of the bourgeois conditions of production, and of the bourgeoisie itself.
You are horrified at our intending to do away with private property. But in your existing society,
private property is already done away with for nine-tenths of the population; its existence for the
few is solely due to its non-existence in the hands of those nine-tenths. You reproach us,
therefore, with intending to do away with a form of property, the necessary condition for whose
existence is the non-existence of any property for the immense majority of society.
In one word, you reproach us with intending to do away with your property. Precisely so; that is
just what we intend.
From the moment when labour can no longer be converted into capital, money, or rent, into a
social power capable of being monopolised, i.e., from the moment when individual property can
no longer be transformed into bourgeois property, into capital, from that moment, you say,
individuality vanishes.
You must, therefore, confess that by “individual” you mean no other person than the bourgeois,
than the middle-class owner of property. This person must, indeed, be swept out of the way, and
made impossible.
Communism deprives no man of the power to appropriate the products of society; all that it does
is to deprive him of the power to subjugate the labour of others by means of such appropriations.
It has been objected that upon the abolition of private property, all work will cease, and universal
laziness will overtake us.
According to this, bourgeois society ought long ago to have gone to the dogs through sheer
idleness; for those of its members who work, acquire nothing, and those who acquire anything do
not work. The whole of this objection is but another expression of the tautology: that there can no
longer be any wage-labour when there is no longer any capital.
All objections urged against the Communistic mode of producing and appropriating material
products, have, in the same way, been urged against the Communistic mode of producing and
appropriating intellectual products. Just as, to the bourgeois, the disappearance of class property
is the disappearance of production itself, so the disappearance of class culture is to him identical
with the disappearance of all culture.
That culture, the loss of which he laments, is, for the enormous majority, a mere training to act as
a machine.
But don’t wrangle with us so long as you apply, to our intended abolition of bourgeois property,
the standard of your bourgeois notions of freedom, culture, law, &c. Your very ideas are but the
outgrowth of the conditions of your bourgeois production and bourgeois property, just as your
jurisprudence is but the will of your class made into a law for all, a will whose essential character
and direction are determined by the economical conditions of existence of your class.
The selfish misconception that induces you to transform into eternal laws of nature and of reason,
the social forms springing from your present mode of production and form of property –
historical relations that rise and disappear in the progress of production – this misconception you
share with every ruling class that has preceded you. What you see clearly in the case of ancient
property, what you admit in the case of feudal property, you are of course forbidden to admit in
the case of your own bourgeois form of property.
Abolition [Aufhebung] of the family! Even the most radical flare up at this infamous proposal of
the Communists.
On what foundation is the present family, the bourgeois family, based? On capital, on private
gain. In its completely developed form, this family exists only among the bourgeoisie. But this
state of things finds its complement in the practical absence of the family among the proletarians,
and in public prostitution.
The bourgeois family will vanish as a matter of course when its complement vanishes, and both
will vanish with the vanishing of capital.
Do you charge us with wanting to stop the exploitation of children by their parents? To this crime
we plead guilty.
But, you say, we destroy the most hallowed of relations, when we replace home education by
social.
And your education! Is not that also social, and determined by the social conditions under which
you educate, by the intervention direct or indirect, of society, by means of schools, &c.? The
Communists have not invented the intervention of society in education; they do but seek to alter
the character of that intervention, and to rescue education from the influence of the ruling class.
The bourgeois clap-trap about the family and education, about the hallowed co-relation of parents
and child, becomes all the more disgusting, the more, by the action of Modern Industry, all the family ties among the proletarians are torn asunder, and their children transformed into simple
articles of commerce and instruments of labour.
But you Communists would introduce community of women, screams the bourgeoisie in chorus.
The bourgeois sees his wife a mere instrument of production. He hears that the instruments of
production are to be exploited in common, and, naturally, can come to no other conclusion that
the lot of being common to all will likewise fall to the women.
He has not even a suspicion that the real point aimed at is to do away with the status of women as
mere instruments of production.
For the rest, nothing is more ridiculous than the virtuous indignation of our bourgeois at the
community of women which, they pretend, is to be openly and officially established by the
Communists. The Communists have no need to introduce community of women; it has existed
almost from time immemorial.
Our bourgeois, not content with having wives and daughters of their proletarians at their disposal,
not to speak of common prostitutes, take the greatest pleasure in seducing each other’s wives.
Bourgeois marriage is, in reality, a system of wives in common and thus, at the most, what the
Communists might possibly be reproached with is that they desire to introduce, in substitution for
a hypocritically concealed, an openly legalised community of women. For the rest, it is selfevident
that the abolition of the present system of production must bring with it the abolition of
the community of women springing from that system, i.e., of prostitution both public and private.
The Communists are further reproached with desiring to abolish countries and nationality.
The working men have no country. We cannot take from them what they have not got. Since the
proletariat must first of all acquire political supremacy, must rise to be the leading class of the
nation, must constitute itself the nation, it is so far, itself national, though not in the bourgeois
sense of the word.
National differences and antagonism between peoples are daily more and more vanishing, owing
to the development of the bourgeoisie, to freedom of commerce, to the world market, to
uniformity in the mode of production and in the conditions of life corresponding thereto.
The supremacy of the proletariat will cause them to vanish still faster. United action, of the
leading civilised countries at least, is one of the first conditions for the emancipation of the
proletariat.
In proportion as the exploitation of one individual by another will also be put an end to, the
exploitation of one nation by another will also be put an end to. In proportion as the antagonism
between classes within the nation vanishes, the hostility of one nation to another will come to an
end.
The charges against Communism made from a religious, a philosophical and, generally, from an
ideological standpoint, are not deserving of serious examination.
Does it require deep intuition to comprehend that man’s ideas, views, and conception, in one
word, man’s consciousness, changes with every change in the conditions of his material
existence, in his social relations and in his social life?
What else does the history of ideas prove, than that intellectual production changes its character
in proportion as material production is changed? The ruling ideas of each age have ever been the
ideas of its ruling class.
When people speak of the ideas that revolutionise society, they do but express that fact that
within the old society the elements of a new one have been created, and that the dissolution of the
old ideas keeps even pace with the dissolution of the old conditions of existence.
When the ancient world was in its last throes, the ancient religions were overcome by
Christianity. When Christian ideas succumbed in the 18th century to rationalist ideas, feudal society fought its death battle with the then revolutionary bourgeoisie. The ideas of religious
liberty and freedom of conscience merely gave expression to the sway of free competition within
the domain of knowledge.
“Undoubtedly,” it will be said, “religious, moral, philosophical, and juridical ideas have been
modified in the course of historical development. But religion, morality, philosophy, political
science, and law, constantly survived this change.”
“There are, besides, eternal truths, such as Freedom, Justice, etc., that are common to all states of
society. But Communism abolishes eternal truths, it abolishes all religion, and all morality,
instead of constituting them on a new basis; it therefore acts in contradiction to all past historical
experience.”
What does this accusation reduce itself to? The history of all past society has consisted in the
development of class antagonisms, antagonisms that assumed different forms at different epochs.
But whatever form they may have taken, one fact is common to all past ages, viz., the exploitation
of one part of society by the other. No wonder, then, that the social consciousness of past ages,
despite all the multiplicity and variety it displays, moves within certain common forms, or general
ideas, which cannot completely vanish except with the total disappearance of class antagonisms.
The Communist revolution is the most radical rupture with traditional property relations; no
wonder that its development involved the most radical rupture with traditional ideas.
But let us have done with the bourgeois objections to Communism.
We have seen above, that the first step in the revolution by the working class is to raise the
proletariat to the position of ruling class to win the battle of democracy.
The proletariat will use its political supremacy to wrest, by degree, all capital from the
bourgeoisie, to centralise all instruments of production in the hands of the State, i.e., of the
proletariat organised as the ruling class; and to increase the total productive forces as rapidly as
possible.
Of course, in the beginning, this cannot be effected except by means of despotic inroads on the
rights of property, and on the conditions of bourgeois production; by means of measures,
therefore, which appear economically insufficient and untenable, but which, in the course of the
movement, outstrip themselves, necessitate further inroads upon the old social order, and are
unavoidable as a means of entirely revolutionising the mode of production.
These measures will, of course, be different in different countries.
Nevertheless, in most advanced countries, the following will be pretty generally applicable.
1. Abolition of property in land and application of all rents of land to public
purposes.
2. A heavy progressive or graduated income tax.
3. Abolition of all rights of inheritance.
4. Confiscation of the property of all emigrants and rebels.
5. Centralisation of credit in the hands of the state, by means of a national bank
with State capital and an exclusive monopoly.
6. Centralisation of the means of communication and transport in the hands of the
State.
7. Extension of factories and instruments of production owned by the State; the
bringing into cultivation of waste-lands, and the improvement of the soil generally
in accordance with a common plan.
8. Equal liability of all to work. Establishment of industrial armies, especially for
agriculture.
9. Combination of agriculture with manufacturing industries; gradual abolition of
all the distinction between town and country by a more equable distribution of the populace over the country.
10. Free education for all children in public schools. Abolition of children’s
factory labour in its present form. Combination of education with industrial
production, &c, &c.
When, in the course of development, class distinctions have disappeared, and all production has
been concentrated in the hands of a vast association of the whole nation, the public power will
lose its political character. Political power, properly so called, is merely the organised power of
one class for oppressing another. If the proletariat during its contest with the bourgeoisie is
compelled, by the force of circumstances, to organise itself as a class, if, by means of a
revolution, it makes itself the ruling class, and, as such, sweeps away by force the old conditions
of production, then it will, along with these conditions, have swept away the conditions for the
existence of class antagonisms and of classes generally, and will thereby have abolished its own
supremacy as a class.
In place of the old bourgeois society, with its classes and class antagonisms, we shall have an
association, in which the free development of each is the condition for the free development of
all.

III. Socialist and Communist Literature
1. Reactionary Socialism
A. Feudal Socialism
Owing to their historical position, it became the vocation of the aristocracies of France and
England to write pamphlets against modern bourgeois society. In the French Revolution of July
1830, and in the English reform agitation4
, these aristocracies again succumbed to the hateful
upstart. Thenceforth, a serious political struggle was altogether out of the question. A literary
battle alone remained possible. But even in the domain of literature the old cries of the restoration
period had become impossible.*

In order to arouse sympathy, the aristocracy was obliged to lose sight, apparently, of its own
interests, and to formulate their indictment against the bourgeoisie in the interest of the exploited
working class alone. Thus, the aristocracy took their revenge by singing lampoons on their new
masters and whispering in his ears sinister prophesies of coming catastrophe.
In this way arose feudal Socialism: half lamentation, half lampoon; half an echo of the past, half
menace of the future; at times, by its bitter, witty and incisive criticism, striking the bourgeoisie
to the very heart’s core; but always ludicrous in its effect, through total incapacity to comprehend
the march of modern history.
The aristocracy, in order to rally the people to them, waved the proletarian alms-bag in front for a
banner. But the people, so often as it joined them, saw on their hindquarters the old feudal coats
of arms, and deserted with loud and irreverent laughter.
One section of the French Legitimists and “Young England” exhibited this spectacle.
In pointing out that their mode of exploitation was different to that of the bourgeoisie, the
feudalists forget that they exploited under circumstances and conditions that were quite different
and that are now antiquated. In showing that, under their rule, the modern proletariat never
existed, they forget that the modern bourgeoisie is the necessary offspring of their own form of
society.
For the rest, so little do they conceal the reactionary character of their criticism that their chief
accusation against the bourgeois amounts to this, that under the bourgeois régime a class is being
developed which is destined to cut up root and branch the old order of society.
What they upbraid the bourgeoisie with is not so much that it creates a proletariat as that it creates
a revolutionary proletariat.
In political practice, therefore, they join in all coercive measures against the working class; and in
ordinary life, despite their high-falutin phrases, they stoop to pick up the golden apples dropped
from the tree of industry, and to barter truth, love, and honour, for traffic in wool, beetroot-sugar,
and potato spirits.†

As the parson has ever gone hand in hand with the landlord, so has Clerical Socialism with
Feudal Socialism.
Nothing is easier than to give Christian asceticism a Socialist tinge. Has not Christianity
declaimed against private property, against marriage, against the State? Has it not preached in the
place of these, charity and poverty, celibacy and mortification of the flesh, monastic life and
Mother Church? Christian Socialism is but the holy water with which the priest consecrates the
heart-burnings of the aristocrat.
B. Petty-Bourgeois Socialism
The feudal aristocracy was not the only class that was ruined by the bourgeoisie, not the only
class whose conditions of existence pined and perished in the atmosphere of modern bourgeois
society. The medieval burgesses and the small peasant proprietors were the precursors of the
modern bourgeoisie. In those countries which are but little developed, industrially and
commercially, these two classes still vegetate side by side with the rising bourgeoisie.
In countries where modern civilisation has become fully developed, a new class of petty
bourgeois has been formed, fluctuating between proletariat and bourgeoisie, and ever renewing
itself as a supplementary part of bourgeois society. The individual members of this class,
however, are being constantly hurled down into the proletariat by the action of competition, and,
as modern industry develops, they even see the moment approaching when they will completely
disappear as an independent section of modern society, to be replaced in manufactures,
agriculture and commerce, by overlookers, bailiffs and shopmen.
In countries like France, where the peasants constitute far more than half of the population, it was
natural that writers who sided with the proletariat against the bourgeoisie should use, in their
criticism of the bourgeois régime, the standard of the peasant and petty bourgeois, and from the
standpoint of these intermediate classes, should take up the cudgels for the working class. Thus
arose petty-bourgeois Socialism. Sismondi was the head of this school, not only in France but
also in England.
This school of Socialism dissected with great acuteness the contradictions in the conditions of
modern production. It laid bare the hypocritical apologies of economists. It proved,
incontrovertibly, the disastrous effects of machinery and division of labour; the concentration of
capital and land in a few hands; overproduction and crises; it pointed out the inevitable ruin of the
petty bourgeois and peasant, the misery of the proletariat, the anarchy in production, the crying
inequalities in the distribution of wealth, the industrial war of extermination between nations, the
dissolution of old moral bonds, of the old family relations, of the old nationalities.
In its positive aims, however, this form of Socialism aspires either to restoring the old means of
production and of exchange, and with them the old property relations, and the old society, or to
cramping the modern means of production and of exchange within the framework of the old
property relations that have been, and were bound to be, exploded by those means. In either case,
it is both reactionary and Utopian.
Its last words are: corporate guilds for manufacture; patriarchal relations in agriculture.
Ultimately, when stubborn historical facts had dispersed all intoxicating effects of self-deception,
this form of Socialism ended in a miserable fit of the blues.
C. German or “True” Socialism
The Socialist and Communist literature of France, a literature that originated under the pressure
of a bourgeoisie in power, and that was the expressions of the struggle against this power, was
introduced into Germany at a time when the bourgeoisie, in that country, had just begun its
contest with feudal absolutism.
German philosophers, would-be philosophers, and beaux esprits (men of letters), eagerly seized
on this literature, only forgetting, that when these writings immigrated from France into
Germany, French social conditions had not immigrated along with them. In contact with German social conditions, this French literature lost all its immediate practical significance and assumed a
purely literary aspect. Thus, to the German philosophers of the Eighteenth Century, the demands
of the first French Revolution were nothing more than the demands of “Practical Reason” in
general, and the utterance of the will of the revolutionary French bourgeoisie signified, in their
eyes, the laws of pure Will, of Will as it was bound to be, of true human Will generally.
The work of the German literati consisted solely in bringing the new French ideas into harmony
with their ancient philosophical conscience, or rather, in annexing the French ideas without
deserting their own philosophic point of view.
This annexation took place in the same way in which a foreign language is appropriated, namely,
by translation.
It is well known how the monks wrote silly lives of Catholic Saints over the manuscripts on
which the classical works of ancient heathendom had been written. The German literati reversed
this process with the profane French literature. They wrote their philosophical nonsense beneath
the French original. For instance, beneath the French criticism of the economic functions of
money, they wrote “Alienation of Humanity”, and beneath the French criticism of the bourgeois
state they wrote “Dethronement of the Category of the General”, and so forth.
The introduction of these philosophical phrases at the back of the French historical criticisms,
they dubbed “Philosophy of Action”, “True Socialism”, “German Science of Socialism”,
“Philosophical Foundation of Socialism”, and so on.
The French Socialist and Communist literature was thus completely emasculated. And, since it
ceased in the hands of the German to express the struggle of one class with the other, he felt
conscious of having overcome “French one-sidedness” and of representing, not true requirements,
but the requirements of Truth; not the interests of the proletariat, but the interests of Human
Nature, of Man in general, who belongs to no class, has no reality, who exists only in the misty
realm of philosophical fantasy.
This German socialism, which took its schoolboy task so seriously and solemnly, and extolled its
poor stock-in-trade in such a mountebank fashion, meanwhile gradually lost its pedantic
innocence.
The fight of the Germans, and especially of the Prussian bourgeoisie, against feudal aristocracy
and absolute monarchy, in other words, the liberal movement, became more earnest.
By this, the long-wished for opportunity was offered to “True” Socialism of confronting the
political movement with the Socialist demands, of hurling the traditional anathemas against
liberalism, against representative government, against bourgeois competition, bourgeois freedom
of the press, bourgeois legislation, bourgeois liberty and equality, and of preaching to the masses
that they had nothing to gain, and everything to lose, by this bourgeois movement. German
Socialism forgot, in the nick of time, that the French criticism, whose silly echo it was,
presupposed the existence of modern bourgeois society, with its corresponding economic
conditions of existence, and the political constitution adapted thereto, the very things those
attainment was the object of the pending struggle in Germany.
To the absolute governments, with their following of parsons, professors, country squires, and
officials, it served as a welcome scarecrow against the threatening bourgeoisie.
It was a sweet finish, after the bitter pills of flogging and bullets, with which these same
governments, just at that time, dosed the German working-class risings.
While this “True” Socialism thus served the government as a weapon for fighting the German
bourgeoisie, it, at the same time, directly represented a reactionary interest, the interest of German
Philistines. In Germany, the petty-bourgeois class, a relic of the sixteenth century, and since then
constantly cropping up again under the various forms, is the real social basis of the existing state
of things.
To preserve this class is to preserve the existing state of things in Germany. The industrial and
political supremacy of the bourgeoisie threatens it with certain destruction – on the one hand,
from the concentration of capital; on the other, from the rise of a revolutionary proletariat. “True”
Socialism appeared to kill these two birds with one stone. It spread like an epidemic.
The robe of speculative cobwebs, embroidered with flowers of rhetoric, steeped in the dew of
sickly sentiment, this transcendental robe in which the German Socialists wrapped their sorry
“eternal truths”, all skin and bone, served to wonderfully increase the sale of their goods amongst
such a public.
And on its part German Socialism recognised, more and more, its own calling as the bombastic
representative of the petty-bourgeois Philistine.
It proclaimed the German nation to be the model nation, and the German petty Philistine to be the
typical man. To every villainous meanness of this model man, it gave a hidden, higher, Socialistic
interpretation, the exact contrary of its real character. It went to the extreme length of directly
opposing the “brutally destructive” tendency of Communism, and of proclaiming its supreme and
impartial contempt of all class struggles. With very few exceptions, all the so-called Socialist and
Communist publications that now (1847) circulate in Germany belong to the domain of this foul
and enervating literature.*

2. Conservative or Bourgeois Socialism
A part of the bourgeoisie is desirous of redressing social grievances in order to secure the
continued existence of bourgeois society.
To this section belong economists, philanthropists, humanitarians, improvers of the condition of
the working class, organisers of charity, members of societies for the prevention of cruelty to
animals, temperance fanatics, hole-and-corner reformers of every imaginable kind. This form of
socialism has, moreover, been worked out into complete systems.
We may cite Proudhon’s Philosophie de la Misère as an example of this form.
The Socialistic bourgeois want all the advantages of modern social conditions without the
struggles and dangers necessarily resulting therefrom. They desire the existing state of society,
minus its revolutionary and disintegrating elements. They wish for a bourgeoisie without a
proletariat. The bourgeoisie naturally conceives the world in which it is supreme to be the best;
and bourgeois Socialism develops this comfortable conception into various more or less complete
systems. In requiring the proletariat to carry out such a system, and thereby to march straightway
into the social New Jerusalem, it but requires in reality, that the proletariat should remain within
the bounds of existing society, but should cast away all its hateful ideas concerning the
bourgeoisie.
A second, and more practical, but less systematic, form of this Socialism sought to depreciate
every revolutionary movement in the eyes of the working class by showing that no mere political
reform, but only a change in the material conditions of existence, in economical relations, could
be of any advantage to them. By changes in the material conditions of existence, this form of
Socialism, however, by no means understands abolition of the bourgeois relations of production,
an abolition that can be affected only by a revolution, but administrative reforms, based on the
continued existence of these relations; reforms, therefore, that in no respect affect the relations
between capital and labour, but, at the best, lessen the cost, and simplify the administrative work,
of bourgeois government.
Bourgeois Socialism attains adequate expression when, and only when, it becomes a mere figure
of speech.
Free trade: for the benefit of the working class. Protective duties: for the benefit of the working
class. Prison Reform: for the benefit of the working class. This is the last word and the only
seriously meant word of bourgeois socialism.
It is summed up in the phrase: the bourgeois is a bourgeois – for the benefit of the working class.
3. Critical-Utopian Socialism and Communism
We do not here refer to that literature which, in every great modern revolution, has always given
voice to the demands of the proletariat, such as the writings of Babeuf and others.
The first direct attempts of the proletariat to attain its own ends, made in times of universal
excitement, when feudal society was being overthrown, necessarily failed, owing to the then
undeveloped state of the proletariat, as well as to the absence of the economic conditions for its
emancipation, conditions that had yet to be produced, and could be produced by the impending
bourgeois epoch alone. The revolutionary literature that accompanied these first movements of
the proletariat had necessarily a reactionary character. It inculcated universal asceticism and
social levelling in its crudest form.
The Socialist and Communist systems, properly so called, those of Saint-Simon, Fourier, Owen,
and others, spring into existence in the early undeveloped period, described above, of the struggle
between proletariat and bourgeoisie (see Section I. Bourgeois and Proletarians).
The founders of these systems see, indeed, the class antagonisms, as well as the action of the
decomposing elements in the prevailing form of society. But the proletariat, as yet in its infancy,
offers to them the spectacle of a class without any historical initiative or any independent political
movement.
Since the development of class antagonism keeps even pace with the development of industry, the
economic situation, as they find it, does not as yet offer to them the material conditions for the
emancipation of the proletariat. They therefore search after a new social science, after new social
laws, that are to create these conditions.
Historical action is to yield to their personal inventive action; historically created conditions of
emancipation to fantastic ones; and the gradual, spontaneous class organisation of the proletariat
to an organisation of society especially contrived by these inventors. Future history resolves
itself, in their eyes, into the propaganda and the practical carrying out of their social plans.
In the formation of their plans, they are conscious of caring chiefly for the interests of the
working class, as being the most suffering class. Only from the point of view of being the most
suffering class does the proletariat exist for them.
The undeveloped state of the class struggle, as well as their own surroundings, causes Socialists
of this kind to consider themselves far superior to all class antagonisms. They want to improve
the condition of every member of society, even that of the most favoured. Hence, they habitually
appeal to society at large, without the distinction of class; nay, by preference, to the ruling class.
For how can people, when once they understand their system, fail to see in it the best possible
plan of the best possible state of society?
Hence, they reject all political, and especially all revolutionary action; they wish to attain their
ends by peaceful means, necessarily doomed to failure, and by the force of example, to pave the
way for the new social Gospel.
Such fantastic pictures of future society, painted at a time when the proletariat is still in a very
undeveloped state and has but a fantastic conception of its own position, correspond with the first
instinctive yearnings of that class for a general reconstruction of society.
But these Socialist and Communist publications contain also a critical element. They attack every
principle of existing society. Hence, they are full of the most valuable materials for the
enlightenment of the working class. The practical measures proposed in them – such as the
abolition of the distinction between town and country, of the family, of the carrying on of
industries for the account of private individuals, and of the wage system, the proclamation of
social harmony, the conversion of the function of the state into a more superintendence of
production – all these proposals point solely to the disappearance of class antagonisms which
were, at that time, only just cropping up, and which, in these publications, are recognised in their
earliest indistinct and undefined forms only. These proposals, therefore, are of a purely Utopian
character.
The significance of Critical-Utopian Socialism and Communism bears an inverse relation to
historical development. In proportion as the modern class struggle develops and takes definite
shape, this fantastic standing apart from the contest, these fantastic attacks on it, lose all practical
value and all theoretical justification. Therefore, although the originators of these systems were,
in many respects, revolutionary, their disciples have, in every case, formed mere reactionary
sects. They hold fast by the original views of their masters, in opposition to the progressive
historical development of the proletariat. They, therefore, endeavour, and that consistently, to
deaden the class struggle and to reconcile the class antagonisms. They still dream of experimental
realisation of their social Utopias, of founding isolated “phalansteres”, of establishing “Home
Colonies”, or setting up a “Little Icaria”*
– duodecimo editions of the New Jerusalem – and to
realise all these castles in the air, they are compelled to appeal to the feelings and purses of the
bourgeois. By degrees, they sink into the category of the reactionary [or] conservative Socialists
depicted above, differing from these only by more systematic pedantry, and by their fanatical and
superstitious belief in the miraculous effects of their social science.
They, therefore, violently oppose all political action on the part of the working class; such action,
according to them, can only result from blind unbelief in the new Gospel.
The Owenites in England, and the Fourierists in France, respectively, oppose the Chartists and the
Réformistes.

IV. Position of the Communists in Relation to the
Various Existing Opposition Parties
Section II has made clear the relations of the Communists to the existing working-class parties,
such as the Chartists in England and the Agrarian Reformers in America.
The Communists fight for the attainment of the immediate aims, for the enforcement of the
momentary interests of the working class; but in the movement of the present, they also represent
and take care of the future of that movement. In France, the Communists ally with the SocialDemocrats*
against the conservative and radical bourgeoisie, reserving, however, the right to take
up a critical position in regard to phases and illusions traditionally handed down from the great
Revolution.
In Switzerland, they support the Radicals, without losing sight of the fact that this party consists
of antagonistic elements, partly of Democratic Socialists, in the French sense, partly of radical
bourgeois.
In Poland, they support the party that insists on an agrarian revolution as the prime condition for
national emancipation, that party which fomented the insurrection of Cracow in 1846.
In Germany, they fight with the bourgeoisie whenever it acts in a revolutionary way, against the
absolute monarchy, the feudal squirearchy, and the petty bourgeoisie.
But they never cease, for a single instant, to instil into the working class the clearest possible
recognition of the hostile antagonism between bourgeoisie and proletariat, in order that the
German workers may straightway use, as so many weapons against the bourgeoisie, the social
and political conditions that the bourgeoisie must necessarily introduce along with its supremacy,
and in order that, after the fall of the reactionary classes in Germany, the fight against the
bourgeoisie itself may immediately begin.
The Communists turn their attention chiefly to Germany, because that country is on the eve of a
bourgeois revolution that is bound to be carried out under more advanced conditions of European
civilisation and with a much more developed proletariat than that of England was in the
seventeenth, and France in the eighteenth century, and because the bourgeois revolution in
Germany will be but the prelude to an immediately following proletarian revolution.
In short, the Communists everywhere support every revolutionary movement against the existing
social and political order of things.
In all these movements, they bring to the front, as the leading question in each, the property
question, no matter what its degree of development at the time.
Finally, they labour everywhere for the union and agreement of the democratic parties of all
countries.
The Communists disdain to conceal their views and aims. They openly declare that their ends can
be attained only by the forcible overthrow of all existing social conditions. Let the ruling classes
tremble at a Communistic revolution. The proletarians have nothing to lose but their chains. They
have a world to win.
Working Men of All Countries, Unite!5

A Communist Confession of Faith
Question 1: Are you a Communist?
Answer: Yes.
Question 2: What is the aim of the Communists?
Answer: To organise society in such a way that every member of it can develop
and use all his capabilities and powers in complete freedom and without thereby
infringing the basic conditions of this society.
Question 3: How do you wish to achieve this aim?
Answer: By the elimination of private property and its replacement by community
of property.
Question 4: On what do you base your community of property?
Answer: Firstly, on the mass of productive forces and means of subsistence
resulting from the development of industry, agriculture, trade and colonisation,
and on the possibility inherent in machinery, chemical and other resources of their
infinite extension.
Secondly, on the fact that in the consciousness or feeling of every individual there
exist certain irrefutable basic principles which, being the result of the whole of
historical development, require no proof.
Question 5: What are such principles?
Answer: For example, every individual strives to be happy. The happiness of the
individual is inseparable from the happiness of all, etc.
Question 6: How do you wish to prepare the way for your community of property?
Answer: By enlightening and uniting the proletariat.
Question 7: What is the proletariat?
Answer: The proletariat is that class of society which lives exclusively by its
labour and not on the profit from any kind of capital; that class whose weal and
woe, whose life and death, therefore, depend on the alternation of times of good
and bad business;. in a word, on the fluctuations of competition.
Question 8: Then there have not always been proletarians?
Answer: No. There have always been poor and working classes; and those who
worked were almost always the poor. But there have not always been proletarians,
just as competition has not always been free.
Question 9: How did the proletariat arise?
Answer: The proletariat came into being as a result of the introduction of the
machines which have been invented since the middle of the last century and the
most important of which are: the steam-engine, the spinning machine and the
power loom. These machines, which were very expensive and could therefore
only be purchased by rich people, supplanted the workers of the time, because by
the use of machinery it was possible to produce commodities more quickly and
cheaply than could the workers with their imperfect spinning wheels and handlooms.
The machines thus delivered industry entirely into the hands of the big
capitalists and rendered the workers’ scanty property which consisted mainly of
their tools, looms, etc., quite worthless, so that the capitalist was left with
everything, the worker with nothing. In this way the factory system was introduced. Once the capitalists saw how advantageous this was for them, they
sought to extend it to more and more branches of labour. They divided work more
and more between the workers so that workers who formerly had made a whole
article now produced only a part of it. Labour simplified in this way produced
goods more quickly and therefore more cheaply and only now was it found in
almost every branch of labour that here also machines could be used. As soon as
any branch of labour went over to factory production it ended up, just as in the
case of spinning and weaving. in the hands of the big capitalists, and the workers
were deprived of the last remnants of their independence. We have gradually
arrived at the position where almost all branches of labour are run on a factory
basis. This has increasingly brought about the ruin of the previously existing
middle class, especially of the small master craftsmen, completely transformed the
previous position of the workers, and two new classes which are gradually
swallowing up all other classes have come into being, namely:
I. The, class of the big capitalists, who in all advanced countries are in almost
exclusive possession of the means of subsistence and those means (machines,
factories, workshops, etc.) by which these means of subsistence are produced.
This is the bourgeois class, or the bourgeoisie.
II. The class of the completely propertyless, who are compelled to sell their labour
to the first class, the bourgeois, simply to obtain from them in return their means
of subsistence. Since the parties to this trading in labour are not equal, but the
bourgeois have the advantage, the propertyless must submit to the bad conditions
laid down by the bourgeois. This class, dependent on the bourgeois, is called the
class of the proletarians or the proletariat.
Question 10: In what way does the proletarian differ from the slave?
Answer: The slave is sold once and for all, the proletarian has to sell himself by
the day and by the hour. The slave is the property of one master and for that very
reason has a guaranteed subsistence, however wretched it may be. The proletarian
is, so to speak, the slave of the entire bourgeois class, not of one master, and
therefore has no guaranteed subsistence, since nobody buys his labour if he does
not need it. The slave is accounted a thing and not a member of civil society. The
proletarian is recognised as a person, as a member of civil society. The slave may,
therefore, have a better subsistence than the proletarian but the latter stands at a
higher stage of development. The slave frees himself by becoming a proletarian,
abolishing from the totality of property relationships only the relationship of
slavery. The proletarian can free himself only by abolishing property in general.
Question 11: In what way does the proletarian differ from the serf?
Answer: The serf has the use of a piece of land, that is, of an instrument of
production, in return for handing over a greater or lesser portion of the yield. The
proletarian works with instruments of production which belong to someone else
who, in return for his labour, hands over to him a portion, determined by
competition, of the products. In the case of the serf, the share of the labourer is
determined by his own labour, that is, by himself. In the case of the proletarian it
is determined by competition, therefore in the first place by the bourgeois. The
serf has guaranteed subsistence, the proletarian has not. The serf frees himself by
driving out his feudal lord and becoming a property owner himself, thus entering
into competition and joining for the time being the possessing class, the privileged
class. The proletarian frees himself by doing away with property, competition, and
all class differences. Question 12: In what way does the proletarian differ from the handicraftsman?
Answer: As opposed to the proletarian, the so-called handicraftsman, who still
existed nearly everywhere during the last century and still exists here and there, is
at most a temporary proletarian. His aim is to acquire capital himself and so to
exploit other workers. He can often achieve this aim where the craft guilds still
exist or where freedom to follow a trade has not yet led to the organisation of
handwork on a factory basis and to intense competition. But as soon as the factory
system is introduced into handwork and competition is in full swing, this prospect
is eliminated and the handicraftsman becomes more and more a proletarian. The
handicraftsman therefore frees himself either by becoming a bourgeois or in
general passing over into the middle class, or, by becoming a proletarian as a
result of competition (as now happens in most cases) and joining the movement of
the proletariat – i. e., the more or less conscious communist movement.
Question 13: Then you do not believe that community of property has been possible at any time?
Answer: No. Communism has only arisen since machinery and other inventions
made it possible to hold out the prospect of an all-sided development, a happy
existence, for all members of society. Communism is the theory of a liberation
which was not possible for the slaves, the serfs, or the handicraftsmen, but only
for the proletarians and hence it belongs of necessity to the 19th century and was
not possible in any earlier period.
Question 14: Let m go back to the sixth question. As you wish to prepare for community of
property by the enlightening and uniting of the proletariat, then you reject revolution?
Answer: We are convinced not only of the uselessness but even of the
harmfulness of all conspiracies. We are also aware that revolutions are not made
deliberately and arbitrarily but that everywhere and at all times they are the
necessary consequence of circumstances which are not in any way whatever
dependent either on the will or on the leadership of individual parties or of whole
classes. But we also see that the development of the proletariat in almost all
countries of the world is forcibly repressed by the possessing classes and that thus
a revolution is being forcibly worked for by the opponents of communism. If, in
the end, the oppressed proletariat is thus driven into a revolution, then we will
defend the cause of the proletariat just as well by our deeds as now by our words.
Question 15: Do you intend to replace the existing social order by community of Property at one
stroke?
Answer: We have no such intention. The development of the masses cannot he
ordered by decree. It is determined by the development of the conditions in which
these masses live, and therefore proceeds gradually.
Question 16: How do you think the transition from the present situation to community of
Property is to be effected?
Answer: The first, fundamental condition for the introduction of community of
property is the political liberation of the proletariat through a democratic
constitution.
Question 17: What will be your first measure once you have established democracy?
Answer: Guaranteeing the subsistence of the proletariat.
Question 18: How will you do this?
Answer. I. By limiting private property in such a way that it gradually prepares
the way for its transformation into social property, e. g., by progressive taxation,
limitation of the right of inheritance in favour of the state, etc., etc.
II. By employing workers in national workshops and factories and on national
estates.
III. By educating all children at the expense of the state.
Question 19: How will you arrange this kind of education during the period of transition?
Answer: All children will be educated in state establishments from the time when
they can do without the first maternal care.
Question 20: Will not the introduction of community of property be accompanied by the
proclamation of the community of women?
Answer: By no means. We will only interfere in the personal relationship between
men and women or with the family in general to the extent that the maintenance of
the existing institution would disturb the new social order. Besides, we are well
aware that the family relationship has been modified in the course of history by
the property relationships and by periods of development, and that consequently
the ending of private property will also have a most important influence on it.
Question 21: Will nationalities continue to exist under communism?
Answer: The nationalities of the peoples who join together according to the
principle of community will be just as much compelled by this union to merge
with one another and thereby supersede themselves as the various differences
between estates and classes disappear through the superseding of their basis –
private property.
Question 22. Do Communists reject existing religions?
Answer: All religions which have existed hitherto were expressions of historical
stages of development of individual peoples or groups of peoples. But
communism is that stage of historical development which makes all existing
religions superfluous and supersedes them.
In the name and on the mandate of the Congress.
Secretary: Heide [Alias of Wilhelm Wolff in the League of the Just]
President: Karl Schill [Alias of Karl Schapper in the League of the Just]
London, June 9, 1847

The Principles of Communism*
In 1847 Engels wrote two draft programmes for the Communist League in the form of a catechism,
one in June and the other in October. The latter, which is known as Principles of Communism, was
first published in 1914. The earlier document “Draft of the Communist Confession of Faith”, was only
found in 1968. It was first published in 1969 in Hamburg, together with four other documents
pertaining to the first congress of the Communist League, in a booklet entitled Gründungs Dokumente
des Bundes der Kommunisten (Juni bis September 1847) [Founding Documents of the Communist
League].
At the June 1847 Congress of the League of the Just, which was also the founding conference of the
Communist League, it was decided to issue a draft “confession of faith” to be submitted for discussion
to the sections of the League. The document which has now come to light is almost certainly this
draft. Comparison of the two documents shows that Principles of Communism is a revised edition of
this earlier draft. In Principles of Communism, Engels left three questions unanswered, in two cases
with the notation “unchanged” (bleibt); this clearly refers to the answers provided in the earlier draft.
The new draft for the programme was worked out by Engels on the instructions of the leading body of
the Paris circle of the Communist League. The instructions were decided on after Engels’ sharp
criticism at the committee meeting, on October 22, 1847, of the draft programme drawn up by the
“true socialist“ Moses Hess, which was then rejected.
Still considering Principles of Communism as a preliminary draft, Engels expressed the view, in a
letter to Marx dated November 23-24 1847, that it would be best to drop the old catechistic form and
draw up a programme in the form of a manifesto.
At the second congress of the Communist League (November 29-December 8, 1847) Marx and Engels
defended the fundamental scientific principles of communism and were trusted with drafting a
programme in the form of a manifesto of the Communist Party. In writing the manifesto the founders
of Marxism made use of the propositions enunciated in Principles of Communism.
Engels uses the term Manufaktur, and its derivatives, which have been translated “manufacture”,
“manufacturing”, etc., Engels used this word literally, to indicate production by hand, not factory
production for which Engels uses “big industry”. Manufaktur differs from handicraft (guild production
in mediaeval towns), in that the latter was carried out by independent artisans. Manufacktur is carried
out by homeworkers working for merchant capitalists, or by groups of craftspeople working together
in large workshops owned by capitalists. It is therefore a transitional mode of production, between
guild (handicraft) and modern (capitalist) forms of production.

The Principles of Communism
– 1 –
What is Communism?
Communism is the doctrine of the conditions of the liberation of the proletariat.
– 2 –
What is the proletariat?
The proletariat is that class in society which lives entirely from the sale of its labor and does not
draw profit from any kind of capital; whose weal and woe, whose life and death, whose sole
existence depends on the demand for labor – hence, on the changing state of business, on the
vagaries of unbridled competition. The proletariat, or the class of proletarians, is, in a word, the
working class of the 19th century.6

– 3 –
Proletarians, then, have not always existed?
No. There have always been poor and working classes; and the working class have mostly been
poor. But there have not always been workers and poor people living under conditions as they are
today; in other words, there have not always been proletarians, any more than there has always
been free unbridled competitions.
– 4 –
How did the proletariat originate?
The Proletariat originated in the industrial revolution, which took place in England in the last half
of the last (18th) century, and which has since then been repeated in all the civilized countries of
the world.
This industrial revolution was precipitated by the discovery of the steam engine, various spinning
machines, the mechanical loom, and a whole series of other mechanical devices. These machines,
which were very expensive and hence could be bought only by big capitalists, altered the whole
mode of production and displaced the former workers, because the machines turned out cheaper
and better commodities than the workers could produce with their inefficient spinning wheels and
handlooms. The machines delivered industry wholly into the hands of the big capitalists and
rendered entirely worthless the meagre property of the workers (tools, looms, etc.). The result was
that the capitalists soon had everything in their hands and nothing remained to the workers. This
marked the introduction of the factory system into the textile industry.
Once the impulse to the introduction of machinery and the factory system had been given, this
system spread quickly to all other branches of industry, especially cloth- and book-printing,
pottery, and the metal industries.
Labor was more and more divided among the individual workers so that the worker who
previously had done a complete piece of work now did only a part of that piece. This division of
labor made it possible to produce things faster and cheaper. It reduced the activity of the
individual worker to simple, endlessly repeated mechanical motions which could be performed
not only as well but much better by a machine. In this way, all these industries fell, one after
another, under the dominance of steam, machinery, and the factory system, just as spinning and
weaving had already done.
But at the same time, they also fell into the hands of big capitalists, and their workers were
deprived of whatever independence remained to them. Gradually, not only genuine manufacture
but also handicrafts came within the province of the factory system as big capitalists increasingly displaced the small master craftsmen by setting up huge workshops, which saved many expenses
and permitted an elaborate division of labor.
This is how it has come about that in civilized countries at the present time nearly all kinds of
labor are performed in factories – and, in nearly all branches of work, handicrafts and
manufacture have been superseded. This process has, to an ever greater degree, ruined the old
middle class, especially the small handicraftsmen; it has entirely transformed the condition of the
workers; and two new classes have been created which are gradually swallowing up all the others.
These are:
(i) The class of big capitalists, who, in all civilized countries, are already in almost
exclusive possession of all the means of subsistence and of the instruments
(machines, factories) and materials necessary for the production of the means of
subsistence. This is the bourgeois class, or the bourgeoisie.
(ii) The class of the wholly propertyless, who are obliged to sell their labor to the
bourgeoisie in order to get, in exchange, the means of subsistence for their
support. This is called the class of proletarians, or the proletariat.
– 5 –
Under what conditions does this sale of the
labor of the proletarians to the bourgeoisie take place?
Labor is a commodity, like any other, and its price is therefore determined by exactly the same
laws that apply to other commodities. In a regime of big industry or of free competition – as we
shall see, the two come to the same thing – the price of a commodity is, on the average, always
equal to its cost of production. Hence, the price of labor is also equal to the cost of production of
labor.
But, the costs of production of labor consist of precisely the quantity of means of subsistence
necessary to enable the worker to continue working, and to prevent the working class from dying
out. The worker will therefore get no more for his labor than is necessary for this purpose; the
price of labor, or the wage, will, in other words, be the lowest, the minimum, required for the
maintenance of life.
However, since business is sometimes better and sometimes worse, it follows that the worker
sometimes gets more and sometimes gets less for his commodities. But, again, just as the
industrialist, on the average of good times and bad, gets no more and no less for his commodities
than what they cost, similarly on the average the worker gets no more and no less than his
minimum.
This economic law of wages operates the more strictly the greater the degree to which big
industry has taken possession of all branches of production.
– 6 –
What working classes were there before the industrial
revolution?
The working classes have always, according to the different stages of development of society,
lived in different circumstances and had different relations to the owning and ruling classes.
In antiquity, the workers were the slaves of the owners, just as they still are in many backward
countries and even in the southern part of the United States.
In the Middle Ages, they were the serfs of the land-owning nobility, as they still are in Hungary,
Poland, and Russia. In the Middle Ages, and indeed right up to the industrial revolution, there
were also journeymen in the cities who worked in the service of petty bourgeois masters.
Gradually, as manufacture developed, these journeymen became manufacturing workers who
were even then employed by larger capitalists.
– 7 –
In what way do proletarians differ from slaves?
The slave is sold once and for all; the proletarian must sell himself daily and hourly.
The individual slave, property of one master, is assured an existence, however miserable it may
be, because of the master’s interest. The individual proletarian, property as it were of the entire
bourgeois class which buys his labor only when someone has need of it, has no secure existence.
This existence is assured only to the class as a whole.
The slave is outside competition; the proletarian is in it and experiences all its vagaries.
The slave counts as a thing, not as a member of society. Thus, the slave can have a better
existence than the proletarian, while the proletarian belongs to a higher stage of social
development and, himself, stands on a higher social level than the slave.
The slave frees himself when, of all the relations of private property, he abolishes only the
relation of slavery and thereby becomes a proletarian; the proletarian can free himself only by
abolishing private property in general.
– 8 –
In what way do proletarians differ from serfs?
The serf possesses and uses an instrument of production, a piece of land, in exchange for which
he gives up a part of his product or part of the services of his labor.
The proletarian works with the instruments of production of another, for the account of this other,
in exchange for a part of the product.
The serf gives up, the proletarian receives. The serf has an assured existence, the proletarian has
not. The serf is outside competition, the proletarian is in it.
The serf liberates himself in one of three ways: either he runs away to the city and there becomes
a handicraftsman; or, instead of products and services, he gives money to his lord and thereby
becomes a free tenant; or he overthrows his feudal lord and himself becomes a property owner. In
short, by one route or another, he gets into the owning class and enters into competition. The
proletarian liberates himself by abolishing competition, private property, and all class differences.
– 9 –
In what way do proletarians differ from handicraftsmen?
In contrast to the proletarian, the so-called handicraftsman, as he still existed almost everywhere
in the past (eighteenth) century and still exists here and there at present, is a proletarian at most
temporarily. His goal is to acquire capital himself wherewith to exploit other workers. He can
often achieve this goal where guilds still exist or where freedom from guild restrictions has not
yet led to the introduction of factory-style methods into the crafts nor yet to fierce competition
But as soon as the factory system has been introduced into the crafts and competition flourishes
fully, this perspective dwindles away and the handicraftsman becomes more and more a
proletarian. The handicraftsman therefore frees himself by becoming either bourgeois or entering
the middle class in general, or becoming a proletarian because of competition (as is now more
often the case). In which case he can free himself by joining the proletarian movement, i.e., the
more or less communist movement.7
– 10 –
In what way do proletarians differ from manufacturing
workers?
The manufacturing worker of the 16th to the 18th centuries still had, with but few exception, an
instrument of production in his own possession – his loom, the family spinning wheel, a little plot
of land which he cultivated in his spare time. The proletarian has none of these things.
The manufacturing worker almost always lives in the countryside and in a more or less
patriarchal relation to his landlord or employer; the proletarian lives, for the most part, in the city
and his relation to his employer is purely a cash relation.
The manufacturing worker is torn out of his patriarchal relation by big industry, loses whatever
property he still has, and in this way becomes a proletarian.
– 11 –
What were the immediate consequences of the industrial
revolution and of the division of society into bourgeoisie
and proletariat?
First, the lower and lower prices of industrial products brought about by machine labor totally
destroyed, in all countries of the world, the old system of manufacture or industry based upon
hand labor.
In this way, all semi-barbarian countries, which had hitherto been more or less strangers to
historical development, and whose industry had been based on manufacture, were violently
forced out of their isolation. They bought the cheaper commodities of the English and allowed
their own manufacturing workers to be ruined. Countries which had known no progress for
thousands of years – for example, India – were thoroughly revolutionized, and even China is now
on the way to a revolution.
We have come to the point where a new machine invented in England deprives millions of
Chinese workers of their livelihood within a year’s time.
In this way, big industry has brought all the people of the Earth into contact with each other, has
merged all local markets into one world market, has spread civilization and progress everywhere
and has thus ensured that whatever happens in civilized countries will have repercussions in all
other countries.
It follows that if the workers in England or France now liberate themselves, this must set off
revolution in all other countries – revolutions which, sooner or later, must accomplish the
liberation of their respective working class.
Second, wherever big industries displaced manufacture, the bourgeoisie developed in wealth and
power to the utmost and made itself the first class of the country. The result was that wherever
this happened, the bourgeoisie took political power into its own hands and displaced the hitherto
ruling classes, the aristocracy, the guildmasters, and their representative, the absolute monarchy.
The bourgeoisie annihilated the power of the aristocracy, the nobility, by abolishing the
entailment of estates – in other words, by making landed property subject to purchase and sale,
and by doing away with the special privileges of the nobility. It destroyed the power of the
guildmasters by abolishing guilds and handicraft privileges. In their place, it put competition –
that is, a state of society in which everyone has the right to enter into any branch of industry, the
only obstacle being a lack of the necessary capital.
The introduction of free competition is thus public declaration that from now on the members of
society are unequal only to the extent that their capitals are unequal, that capital is the decisive
power, and that therefore the capitalists, the bourgeoisie, have become the first class in society.
Free competition is necessary for the establishment of big industry, because it is the only
condition of society in which big industry can make its way.
Having destroyed the social power of the nobility and the guildmasters, the bourgeois also
destroyed their political power. Having raised itself to the actual position of first class in society,
it proclaims itself to be also the dominant political class. This it does through the introduction of
the representative system which rests on bourgeois equality before the law and the recognition of
free competition, and in European countries takes the form of constitutional monarchy. In these
constitutional monarchies, only those who possess a certain capital are voters – that is to say, only
members of the bourgeoisie. These bourgeois voters choose the deputies, and these bourgeois
deputies, by using their right to refuse to vote taxes, choose a bourgeois government.
Third, everywhere the proletariat develops in step with the bourgeoisie. In proportion, as the
bourgeoisie grows in wealth, the proletariat grows in numbers. For, since the proletarians can be
employed only by capital, and since capital extends only through employing labor, it follows that
the growth of the proletariat proceeds at precisely the same pace as the growth of capital.
Simultaneously, this process draws members of the bourgeoisie and proletarians together into the
great cities where industry can be carried on most profitably, and by thus throwing great masses
in one spot it gives to the proletarians a consciousness of their own strength.
Moreover, the further this process advances, the more new labor-saving machines are invented,
the greater is the pressure exercised by big industry on wages, which, as we have seen, sink to
their minimum and therewith render the condition of the proletariat increasingly unbearable. The
growing dissatisfaction of the proletariat thus joins with its rising power to prepare a proletarian
social revolution.
– 12 –
What were the further consequences of the industrial
revolution?
Big industry created in the steam engine, and other machines, the means of endlessly expanding
industrial production, speeding it up, and cutting its costs. With production thus facilitated, the
free competition, which is necessarily bound up with big industry, assumed the most extreme
forms; a multitude of capitalists invaded industry, and, in a short while, more was produced than
was needed.
As a consequence, finished commodities could not be sold, and a so-called commercial crisis
broke out. Factories had to be closed, their owners went bankrupt, and the workers were without
bread. Deepest misery reigned everywhere.
After a time, the superfluous products were sold, the factories began to operate again, wages rose,
and gradually business got better than ever.
But it was not long before too many commodities were again produced and a new crisis broke
out, only to follow the same course as its predecessor.
Ever since the beginning of this (19th) century, the condition of industry has constantly fluctuated
between periods of prosperity and periods of crisis; nearly every five to seven years, a fresh crisis
has intervened, always with the greatest hardship for workers, and always accompanied by
general revolutionary stirrings and the direct peril to the whole existing order of things.
– 13 –
What follows from these periodic commercial crises?
First:
That, though big industry in its earliest stage created free competition, it has now
outgrown free competition;
that, for big industry, competition and generally the individualistic organization of
production have become a fetter which it must and will shatter;
that, so long as big industry remains on its present footing, it can be maintained
only at the cost of general chaos every seven years, each time threatening the
whole of civilization and not only plunging the proletarians into misery but also
ruining large sections of the bourgeoisie;
hence, either that big industry must itself be given up, which is an absolute
impossibility, or that it makes unavoidably necessary an entirely new organization
of society in which production is no longer directed by mutually competing
individual industrialists but rather by the whole society operating according to a
definite plan and taking account of the needs of all.
Second: That big industry, and the limitless expansion of production which it makes possible,
bring within the range of feasibility a social order in which so much is produced that every
member of society will be in a position to exercise and develop all his powers and faculties in
complete freedom.
It thus appears that the very qualities of big industry which, in our present-day society, produce
misery and crises are those which, in a different form of society, will abolish this misery and
these catastrophic depressions.
We see with the greatest clarity:
(i) That all these evils are from now on to be ascribed solely to a social order
which no longer corresponds to the requirements of the real situation; and
(ii) That it is possible, through a new social order, to do away with these evils
altogether.
– 14 –
What will this new social order have to be like?
Above all, it will have to take the control of industry and of all branches of production out of the
hands of mutually competing individuals, and instead institute a system in which all these
branches of production are operated by society as a whole – that is, for the common account,
according to a common plan, and with the participation of all members of society.
It will, in other words, abolish competition and replace it with association.
Moreover, since the management of industry by individuals necessarily implies private property,
and since competition is in reality merely the manner and form in which the control of industry
by private property owners expresses itself, it follows that private property cannot be separated
from competition and the individual management of industry. Private property must, therefore, be
abolished and in its place must come the common utilization of all instruments of production and
the distribution of all products according to common agreement – in a word, what is called the
communal ownership of goods.
In fact, the abolition of private property is, doubtless, the shortest and most significant way to
characterize the revolution in the whole social order which has been made necessary by the
development of industry – and for this reason it is rightly advanced by communists as their main
demand.
– 15 –
Was not the abolition of private property possible at an
earlier time?
No. Every change in the social order, every revolution in property relations, is the necessary
consequence of the creation of new forces of production which no longer fit into the old property
relations.
Private property has not always existed.
When, towards the end of the Middle Ages, there arose a new mode of production which could
not be carried on under the then existing feudal and guild forms of property, this manufacture,
which had outgrown the old property relations, created a new property form, private property.
And for manufacture and the earliest stage of development of big industry, private property was
the only possible property form; the social order based on it was the only possible social order.
So long as it is not possible to produce so much that there is enough for all, with more left over
for expanding the social capital and extending the forces of production – so long as this is not
possible, there must always be a ruling class directing the use of society’s productive forces, and
a poor, oppressed class. How these classes are constituted depends on the stage of development.
The agrarian Middle Ages give us the baron and the serf; the cities of the later Middle Ages show
us the guildmaster and the journeyman and the day laborer; the 17th century has its
manufacturing workers; the 19th has big factory owners and proletarians.
It is clear that, up to now, the forces of production have never been developed to the point where
enough could be developed for all, and that private property has become a fetter and a barrier in
relation to the further development of the forces of production.
Now, however, the development of big industry has ushered in a new period. Capital and the
forces of production have been expanded to an unprecedented extent, and the means are at hand
to multiply them without limit in the near future. Moreover, the forces of production have been
concentrated in the hands of a few bourgeois, while the great mass of the people are more and
more falling into the proletariat, their situation becoming more wretched and intolerable in
proportion to the increase of wealth of the bourgeoisie. And finally, these mighty and easily
extended forces of production have so far outgrown private property and the bourgeoisie, that
they threaten at any moment to unleash the most violent disturbances of the social order. Now,
under these conditions, the abolition of private property has become not only possible but
absolutely necessary.
– 16 –
Will the peaceful abolition of private property be possible?
It would be desirable if this could happen, and the communists would certainly be the last to
oppose it. Communists know only too well that all conspiracies are not only useless, but even
harmful. They know all too well that revolutions are not made intentionally and arbitrarily, but
that, everywhere and always, they have been the necessary consequence of conditions which were
wholly independent of the will and direction of individual parties and entire classes.
But they also see that the development of the proletariat in nearly all civilized countries has been
violently suppressed, and that in this way the opponents of communism have been working
toward a revolution with all their strength. If the oppressed proletariat is finally driven to
revolution, then we communists will defend the interests of the proletarians with deeds as we now
defend them with words.
– 17 –
Will it be possible for private property to be abolished at
one stroke?
No, no more than existing forces of production can at one stroke be multiplied to the extent
necessary for the creation of a communal society.
In all probability, the proletarian revolution will transform existing society gradually and will be
able to abolish private property only when the means of production are available in sufficient
quantity.
– 18 –
What will be the course of this revolution?
Above all, it will establish a democratic constitution, and through this, the direct or indirect
dominance of the proletariat. Direct in England, where the proletarians are already a majority of
the people. Indirect in France and Germany, where the majority of the people consists not only of
proletarians, but also of small peasants and petty bourgeois who are in the process of falling into
the proletariat, who are more and more dependent in all their political interests on the proletariat,
and who must, therefore, soon adapt to the demands of the proletariat. Perhaps this will cost a
second struggle, but the outcome can only be the victory of the proletariat.
Democracy would be wholly valueless to the proletariat if it were not immediately used as a
means for putting through measures directed against private property and ensuring the livelihood
of the proletariat. The main measures, emerging as the necessary result of existing relations, are
the following:
(i) Limitation of private property through progressive taxation, heavy inheritance
taxes, abolition of inheritance through collateral lines (brothers, nephews, etc.)
forced loans, etc.
(ii) Gradual expropriation of landowners, industrialists, railroad magnates and
shipowners, partly through competition by state industry, partly directly through
compensation in the form of bonds.
(iii) Confiscation of the possessions of all emigrants and rebels against the
majority of the people.
(iv) Organization of labor or employment of proletarians on publicly owned land,
in factories and workshops, with competition among the workers being abolished
and with the factory owners, in so far as they still exist, being obliged to pay the
same high wages as those paid by the state.
(v) An equal obligation on all members of society to work until such time as
private property has been completely abolished. Formation of industrial armies,
especially for agriculture.
(vi) Centralization of money and credit in the hands of the state through a national
bank with state capital, and the suppression of all private banks and bankers.
(vii) Increase in the number of national factories, workshops, railroads, ships;
bringing new lands into cultivation and improvement of land already under
cultivation – all in proportion to the growth of the capital and labor force at the
disposal of the nation.
(viii) Education of all children, from the moment they can leave their mother’s
care, in national establishments at national cost. Education and production
together.
(ix) Construction, on public lands, of great palaces as communal dwellings for
associated groups of citizens engaged in both industry and agriculture and
combining in their way of life the advantages of urban and rural conditions while
avoiding the one-sidedness and drawbacks of each.
(x) Destruction of all unhealthy and jerry-built dwellings in urban districts.
(xi) Equal inheritance rights for children born in and out of wedlock.
(xii) Concentration of all means of transportation in the hands of the nation.
It is impossible, of course, to carry out all these measures at once. But one will always bring
others in its wake. Once the first radical attack on private property has been launched, the
proletariat will find itself forced to go ever further, to concentrate increasingly in the hands of the
state all capital, all agriculture, all transport, all trade. All the foregoing measures are directed to
this end; and they will become practicable and feasible, capable of producing their centralizing
effects to precisely the degree that the proletariat, through its labor, multiplies the country’s
productive forces.
Finally, when all capital, all production, all exchange have been brought together in the hands of
the nation, private property will disappear of its own accord, money will become superfluous, and
production will so expand and man so change that society will be able to slough off whatever of
its old economic habits may remain.
– 19 –
Will it be possible for this revolution to take place in one
country alone?
No. By creating the world market, big industry has already brought all the peoples of the Earth,
and especially the civilized peoples, into such close relation with one another that none is
independent of what happens to the others.
Further, it has co-ordinated the social development of the civilized countries to such an extent
that, in all of them, bourgeoisie and proletariat have become the decisive classes, and the struggle
between them the great struggle of the day. It follows that the communist revolution will not
merely be a national phenomenon but must take place simultaneously in all civilized countries –
that is to say, at least in England, America, France, and Germany.
It will develop in each of the these countries more or less rapidly, according as one country or the
other has a more developed industry, greater wealth, a more significant mass of productive forces.
Hence, it will go slowest and will meet most obstacles in Germany, most rapidly and with the
fewest difficulties in England. It will have a powerful impact on the other countries of the world,
and will radically alter the course of development which they have followed up to now, while
greatly stepping up its pace.
It is a universal revolution and will, accordingly, have a universal range.
– 20 –
What will be the consequences of the
ultimate disappearance of private property?
Society will take all forces of production and means of commerce, as well as the exchange and
distribution of products, out of the hands of private capitalists and will manage them in
accordance with a plan based on the availability of resources and the needs of the whole society.
In this way, most important of all, the evil consequences which are now associated with the
conduct of big industry will be abolished.
There will be no more crises; the expanded production, which for the present order of society is
overproduction and hence a prevailing cause of misery, will then be insufficient and in need of being expanded much further. Instead of generating misery, overproduction will reach beyond the
elementary requirements of society to assure the satisfaction of the needs of all; it will create new
needs and, at the same time, the means of satisfying them. It will become the condition of, and the
stimulus to, new progress, which will no longer throw the whole social order into confusion, as
progress has always done in the past. Big industry, freed from the pressure of private property,
will undergo such an expansion that what we now see will seem as petty in comparison as
manufacture seems when put beside the big industry of our own day. This development of
industry will make available to society a sufficient mass of products to satisfy the needs of
everyone.
The same will be true of agriculture, which also suffers from the pressure of private property and
is held back by the division of privately owned land into small parcels. Here, existing
improvements and scientific procedures will be put into practice, with a resulting leap forward
which will assure to society all the products it needs.
In this way, such an abundance of goods will be able to satisfy the needs of all its members.
The division of society into different, mutually hostile classes will then become unnecessary.
Indeed, it will be not only unnecessary but intolerable in the new social order. The existence of
classes originated in the division of labor, and the division of labor, as it has been known up to
the present, will completely disappear. For mechanical and chemical processes are not enough to
bring industrial and agricultural production up to the level we have described; the capacities of
the men who make use of these processes must undergo a corresponding development.
Just as the peasants and manufacturing workers of the last century changed their whole way of
life and became quite different people when they were drawn into big industry, in the same way,
communal control over production by society as a whole, and the resulting new development, will
both require an entirely different kind of human material.
People will no longer be, as they are today, subordinated to a single branch of production, bound
to it, exploited by it; they will no longer develop one of their faculties at the expense of all others;
they will no longer know only one branch, or one branch of a single branch, of production as a
whole. Even industry as it is today is finding such people less and less useful.
Industry controlled by society as a whole, and operated according to a plan, presupposes wellrounded
human beings, their faculties developed in balanced fashion, able to see the system of
production in its entirety.
The form of the division of labor which makes one a peasant, another a cobbler, a third a factory
worker, a fourth a stock-market operator, has already been undermined by machinery and will
completely disappear. Education will enable young people quickly to familiarize themselves with
the whole system of production and to pass from one branch of production to another in response
to the needs of society or their own inclinations. It will, therefore, free them from the one-sided
character which the present-day division of labor impresses upon every individual. Communist
society will, in this way, make it possible for its members to put their comprehensively developed
faculties to full use. But, when this happens, classes will necessarily disappear. It follows that
society organized on a communist basis is incompatible with the existence of classes on the one
hand, and that the very building of such a society provides the means of abolishing class
differences on the other.
A corollary of this is that the difference between city and country is destined to disappear. The
management of agriculture and industry by the same people rather than by two different classes
of people is, if only for purely material reasons, a necessary condition of communist association.
The dispersal of the agricultural population on the land, alongside the crowding of the industrial
population into the great cities, is a condition which corresponds to an undeveloped state of both
agriculture and industry and can already be felt as an obstacle to further development.
The general co-operation of all members of society for the purpose of planned exploitation of the
forces of production, the expansion of production to the point where it will satisfy the needs of
all, the abolition of a situation in which the needs of some are satisfied at the expense of the needs
of others, the complete liquidation of classes and their conflicts, the rounded development of the
capacities of all members of society through the elimination of the present division of labor,
through industrial education, through engaging in varying activities, through the participation by
all in the enjoyments produced by all, through the combination of city and country – these are the
main consequences of the abolition of private property.
– 21 –
What will be the influence of communist society on the
family?
It will transform the relations between the sexes into a purely private matter which concerns only
the persons involved and into which society has no occasion to intervene. It can do this since it
does away with private property and educates children on a communal basis, and in this way
removes the two bases of traditional marriage – the dependence rooted in private property, of the
women on the man, and of the children on the parents.
And here is the answer to the outcry of the highly moral philistines against the “community of
women”. Community of women is a condition which belongs entirely to bourgeois society and
which today finds its complete expression in prostitution. But prostitution is based on private
property and falls with it. Thus, communist society, instead of introducing community of women,
in fact abolishes it.
– 22 –
What will be the attitude of communism to existing
nationalities?
The nationalities of the peoples associating themselves in accordance with the principle of
community will be compelled to mingle with each other as a result of this association and thereby
to dissolve themselves, just as the various estate and class distinctions must disappear through the
abolition of their basis, private property.8
– 23 –
What will be its attitude to existing religions?
All religions so far have been the expression of historical stages of development of individual
peoples or groups of peoples. But communism is the stage of historical development which
makes all existing religions superfluous and brings about their disappearance.9
– 24 –
How do communists differ from socialists?
The so-called socialists are divided into three categories.
[ Reactionary Socialists: ]
The first category consists of adherents of a feudal and patriarchal society which has already been
destroyed, and is still daily being destroyed, by big industry and world trade and their creation,
bourgeois society. This category concludes, from the evils of existing society, that feudal and
patriarchal society must be restored because it was free of such evils. In one way or another, all
their proposals are directed to this end.
This category of reactionary socialists, for all their seeming partisanship and their scalding tears
for the misery of the proletariat, is nevertheless energetically opposed by the communists for the
following reasons:
(i) It strives for something which is entirely impossible.
(ii) It seeks to establish the rule of the aristocracy, the guildmasters, the small
producers, and their retinue of absolute or feudal monarchs, officials, soldiers, and
priests – a society which was, to be sure, free of the evils of present-day society
but which brought it at least as many evils without even offering to the oppressed
workers the prospect of liberation through a communist revolution.
(iii) As soon as the proletariat becomes revolutionary and communist, these
reactionary socialists show their true colors by immediately making common
cause with the bourgeoisie against the proletarians.
[ Bourgeois Socialists: ]
The second category consists of adherents of present-day society who have been frightened for its
future by the evils to which it necessarily gives rise. What they want, therefore, is to maintain this
society while getting rid of the evils which are an inherent part of it.
To this end, some propose mere welfare measures – while others come forward with grandiose
systems of reform which, under the pretense of re-organizing society, are in fact intended to
preserve the foundations, and hence the life, of existing society.
Communists must unremittingly struggle against these bourgeois socialists because they work for
the enemies of communists and protect the society which communists aim to overthrow.
[ Democratic Socialists: ]
Finally, the third category consists of democratic socialists who favor some of the same measures
the communists advocate, as described in Question 18, not as part of the transition to
communism, however, but as measures which they believe will be sufficient to abolish the misery
and evils of present-day society.
These democratic socialists are either proletarians who are not yet sufficiently clear about the
conditions of the liberation of their class, or they are representatives of the petty bourgeoisie, a
class which, prior to the achievement of democracy and the socialist measures to which it gives
rise, has many interests in common with the proletariat.
It follows that, in moments of action, the communists will have to come to an understanding with
these democratic socialists, and in general to follow as far as possible a common policy with them
– provided that these socialists do not enter into the service of the ruling bourgeoisie and attack
the communists.
It is clear that this form of co-operation in action does not exclude the discussion of differences.
– 25 –
What is the attitude of the communists to the
other political parties of our time?
This attitude is different in the different countries.
In England, France, and Belgium, where the bourgeoisie rules, the communists still have a
common interest with the various democratic parties, an interest which is all the greater the more
closely the socialistic measures they champion approach the aims of the communists – that is, the
more clearly and definitely they represent the interests of the proletariat and the more they depend
on the proletariat for support. In England, for example, the working-class Chartists10 are infinitely
closer to the communists than the democratic petty bourgeoisie or the so-called Radicals.
In America, where a democratic constitution has already been established, the communists must
make the common cause with the party which will turn this constitution against the bourgeoisie
and use it in the interests of the proletariat – that is, with the agrarian National Reformers.11
In Switzerland, the Radicals, though a very mixed party, are the only group with which the
communists can co-operate, and, among these Radicals, the Vaudois and Genevese are the most
advanced.
In Germany, finally, the decisive struggle now on the order of the day is that between the
bourgeoisie and the absolute monarchy. Since the communists cannot enter upon the decisive
struggle between themselves and the bourgeoisie until the bourgeoisie is in power, it follows that
it is in the interest of the communists to help the bourgeoisie to power as soon as possible in order
the sooner to be able to overthrow it. Against the governments, therefore, the communists must
continually support the radical liberal party, taking care to avoid the self-deceptions of the
bourgeoisie and not fall for the enticing promises of benefits which a victory for the bourgeoisie
would allegedly bring to the proletariat. The sole advantages which the proletariat would derive
from a bourgeois victory would consist
(i) in various concessions which would facilitate the unification of the proletariat
into a closely knit, battle-worthy, and organized class; and
(ii) in the certainly that, on the very day the absolute monarchies fall, the struggle
between bourgeoisie and proletariat will start. From that day on, the policy of the
communists will be the same as it now is in the countries where the bourgeoisie is
already in power.
Demands of the Communist Party in Germany
“Workers of all countries, unite!”
1. The whole of Germany shall be declared a single and indivisible republic.
2. Every German, having reached the age of 21, shall have the right to vote and to be elected,
provided he has not been convicted of a criminal offence.
3. Representatives of the people shall receive payment so that workers, too, shall be able to
become members of the German parliament.
4. Universal arming of the people. In future the armies shall be simultaneously labour armies, so
that the troops shall not, as formerly, merely consume, but shall produce more than is necessary
for their upkeep.
This will moreover be conducive to the organisation of labour.
5. Legal services shall be free of charge.
6. All feudal obligations, dues, corvées, tithes etc., which have hitherto weighed upon the rural
population, shall be abolished without compensation.
7. Princely and other feudal estates, together with mines, pits, and so forth, shall become the
property of the state. The estates shall be cultivated on a large scale and with the most up-to-date
scientific devices in the interests of the whole of society.
8. Mortgages on peasant lands shall be declared the property of the state. Interest on such
mortgages shall be paid by the peasants to the state.
9. In localities where the tenant system is developed, the land rent or the quit-rent shall be paid to
the state as a tax.
The measures specified in Nos. 6, 7, 8 and 9 are to be adopted in order to reduce the communal
and other burdens hitherto imposed upon the peasants and small tenant farmers without curtailing
the means available for defraying state expenses and without imperilling production.
The landowner in the strict sense, who is neither a peasant nor a tenant farmer, has no share in
production. Consumption on his part is, therefore, nothing but abuse.
10. A state bank, whose paper issues are legal tender, shall replace all private banks.
This measure will make it possible to regulate the credit system in the interest of the people as a
whole, and will thus undermine the dominion of the big financial magnates. Further, by gradually
substituting paper money for gold and silver coin, the universal means of exchange (that
indispensable prerequisite of bourgeois trade and commerce) will be cheapened, and gold and
silver will be set free for use in foreign trade. Finally, this measure is necessary in order to bind
the interests of the conservative bourgeoisie to the Government.
11. All the means of transport, railways, canals, steamships, roads, the posts etc. shall be taken
over by the state. They shall become the property of the state and shall be placed free at the
disposal of the impecunious classes.
12. All civil servants shall receive the same salary, the only exception being that civil servants
who have a family to support and who therefore have greater requirements, shall receive a higher
salary.
13. Complete separation of Church and State. The clergy of every denomination shall be paid
only by the voluntary contributions of their congregations.
14. The right of inheritance to be curtailed.
15. The introduction of steeply graduated taxes, and the abolition of taxes on articles of
consumption.
16. Inauguration of national workshops. The state guarantees a livelihood to all workers and
provides for those who are incapacitated for work.
17. Universal and free education of the people.
It is to the interest of the German proletariat, the petty bourgeoisie and the small peasants to
support these demands with all possible energy. Only by the realisation of these demands will the
millions in Germany, who have hitherto been exploited by a handful of persons and whom the
exploiters would like to keep in further subjection, win the rights and attain to that power to
which they are entitled as the producers of all wealth.
The Committee
Karl Marx, Karl Schapper, H. Bauer, F. Engels, J. Moll, W. Wolff

On the dawn of March 18, Paris arose to the thunder-burst of “Vive la Commune!” What is the
Commune, that sphinx so tantalizing to the bourgeois mind?
“The proletarians of Paris,” said the Central Committee in its manifesto of March 18, “amidst the
failures and treasons of the ruling classes, have understood that the hour has struck for them to
save the situation by taking into their own hands the direction of public affairs.... They have
understood that it is their imperious duty, and their absolute right, to render themselves masters of
their own destinies, by seizing upon the governmental power.”
But the working class cannot simply lay hold of the ready-made state machinery, and wield
it for its own purposes.
The centralized state power, with its ubiquitous organs of standing army, police, bureaucracy,
clergy, and judicature – organs wrought after the plan of a systematic and hierarchic division of
labor – originates from the days of absolute monarchy, serving nascent bourgeois society as a
mighty weapon in its struggle against feudalism. Still, its development remained clogged by all
manner of medieval rubbish, seignorial rights, local privileges, municipal and guild monopolies,
and provincial constitutions. The gigantic broom of the French Revolution of the 18th century
swept away all these relics of bygone times, thus clearing simultaneously the social soil of its last
hindrances to the superstructure of the modern state edifice raised under the First Empire, itself
the offspring of the coalition wars of old semi-feudal Europe against modern France.
During the subsequent regimes, the government, placed under parliamentary control – that is,
under the direct control of the propertied classes – became not only a hotbed of huge national
debts and crushing taxes; with its irresistible allurements of place, pelf, and patronage, it became
not only the bone of contention between the rival factions and adventurers of the ruling classes;
but its political character changed simultaneously with the economic changes of society. At the
same pace at which the progress of modern industry developed, widened, intensified the class
antagonism between capital and labor, the state power assumed more and more the character of
the national power of capital over labor, of a public force organized for social enslavement, of an
engine of class despotism.
After every revolution marking a progressive phase in the class struggle, the purely repressive
character of the state power stands out in bolder and bolder relief. The Revolution of 1830,
resulting in the transfer of government from the landlords to the capitalists, transferred it from the
more remote to the more direct antagonists of the working men. The bourgeois republicans, who,
in the name of the February Revolution, took the state power, used it for the June [1848]
massacres, in order to convince the working class that “social” republic means the republic
entrusting their social subjection, and in order to convince the royalist bulk of the bourgeois and
landlord class that they might safely leave the cares and emoluments of government to the
bourgeois “republicans.”
However, after their one heroic exploit of June, the bourgeois republicans had, from the front, to
fall back to the rear of the “Party of Order” – a combination formed by all the rival fractions and
factions of the appropriating classes. The proper form of their joint-stock government was the
parliamentary republic, with Louis Bonaparte for its president. Theirs was a regime of avowed
class terrorism and deliberate insult towards the “vile multitude.”
If the parliamentary republic, as M. Thiers said, “divided them [the different fractions of the
ruling class] least,” it opened an abyss between that class and the whole body of society outside
their spare ranks. The restraints by which their own divisions had under former regimes still
checked the state power, were removed by their union; and in view of the threatening upheaval of
the proletariat, they now used that state power mercilessly and ostentatiously as the national war
engine of capital against labor.
In their uninterrupted crusade against the producing masses, they were, however, bound not only
to invest the executive with continually increased powers of repression, but at the same time to
divest their own parliamentary stronghold – the National Assembly – one by one, of all its own
means of defence against the Executive. The Executive, in the person of Louis Bonaparte, turned
them out. The natural offspring of the “Party of Order” republic was the Second Empire.
The empire, with the coup d’état for its birth certificate, universal suffrage for its sanction, and
the sword for its sceptre, professed to rest upon the peasantry, the large mass of producers not
directly involved in the struggle of capital and labor. It professed to save the working class by
breaking down parliamentarism, and, with it, the undisguised subserviency of government to the
propertied classes. It professed to save the propertied classes by upholding their economic
supremacy over the working class; and, finally, it professed to unite all classes by reviving for all
the chimera of national glory.
In reality, it was the only form of government possible at a time when the bourgeoisie had already
lost, and the working class had not yet acquired, the faculty of ruling the nation. It was acclaimed
throughout the world as the savior of society. Under its sway, bourgeois society, freed from
political cares, attained a development unexpected even by itself. Its industry and commerce
expanded to colossal dimensions; financial swindling celebrated cosmopolitan orgies; the misery
of the masses was set off by a shameless display of gorgeous, meretricious and debased luxury.
The state power, apparently soaring high above society and the very hotbed of all its corruptions.
Its own rottenness, and the rottenness of the society it had saved, were laid bare by the bayonet of
Prussia, herself eagerly bent upon transferring the supreme seat of that regime from Paris to
Berlin. Imperialism is, at the same time, the most prostitute and the ultimate form of the state
power which nascent bourgeois society had commenced to elaborate as a means of its own
emancipation from feudalism, and which full-grown bourgeois society had finally transformed
into a means for the enslavement of labor by capital.
The direct antithesis to the empire was the Commune. The cry of “social republic,” with which
the February [1848] Revolution was ushered in by the Paris proletariat, did but express a vague
aspiration after a republic that was not only to supercede the monarchical form of class rule, but
class rule itself. The Commune was the positive form of that republic.
Paris, the central seat of the old governmental power, and, at the same time, the social stronghold
of the French working class, had risen in arms against the attempt of Thiers and the Rurals to
restore and perpetuate that old governmental power bequeathed to them by the empire. Paris
could resist only because, in consequence of the siege, it had got rid of the army, and replaced it
by a National Guard, the bulk of which consisted of working men. This fact was now to be
transformed into an institution. The first decree of the Commune, therefore, was the suppression
of the standing army, and the substitution for it of the armed people.
The Commune was formed of the municipal councillors, chosen by universal suffrage in the
various wards of the town, responsible and revocable at short terms. The majority of its members
were naturally working men, or acknowledged representatives of the working class. The
Commune was to be a working, not a parliamentary body, executive and legislative at the same
time.
Instead of continuing to be the agent of the Central Government, the police was at once stripped
of its political attributes, and turned into the responsible, and at all times revocable, agent of the
Commune. So were the officials of all other branches of the administration. From the members of
the Commune downwards, the public service had to be done at workman’s wage. The vested
interests and the representation allowances of the high dignitaries of state disappeared along with
the high dignitaries themselves. Public functions ceased to be the private property of the tools of
the Central Government. Not only municipal administration, but the whole initiative hitherto
exercised by the state was laid into the hands of the Commune.
Having once got rid of the standing army and the police – the physical force elements of the old
government – the Commune was anxious to break the spiritual force of repression, the “parsonpower,”
by the disestablishment and disendowment of all churches as proprietary bodies. The
priests were sent back to the recesses of private life, there to feed upon the alms of the faithful in
imitation of their predecessors, the apostles.
The whole of the educational institutions were opened to the people gratuitously, and at the same
time cleared of all interference of church and state. Thus, not only was education made accessible
to all, but science itself freed from the fetters which class prejudice and governmental force had
imposed upon it.
The judicial functionaries were to be divested of that sham independence which had but served to
mask their abject subserviency to all succeeding governments to which, in turn, they had taken,
and broken, the oaths of allegiance. Like the rest of public servants, magistrates and judges were
to be elective, responsible, and revocable.
The Paris Commune was, of course, to serve as a model to all the great industrial centres of
France. The communal regime once established in Paris and the secondary centres, the old
centralized government would in the provinces, too, have to give way to the self-government of
the producers.
In a rough sketch of national organisation, which the Commune had no time to develop, it states
clearly that the Commune was to be the political form of even the smallest country hamlet, and
that in the rural districts the standing army was to be replaced by a national militia, with an
extremely short term of service. The rural communities of every district were to administer their
common affairs by an assembly of delegates in the central town, and these district assemblies
were again to send deputies to the National Delegation in Paris, each delegate to be at any time
revocable and bound by the mandat imperatif (formal instructions) of his constituents. The few
but important functions which would still remain for a central government were not to be
suppressed, as has been intentionally misstated, but were to be discharged by Communal and
thereafter responsible agents.
The unity of the nation was not to be broken, but, on the contrary, to be organized by Communal
Constitution, and to become a reality by the destruction of the state power which claimed to be the embodiment of that unity independent of, and superior to, the nation itself, from which it was
but a parasitic excrescence.
While the merely repressive organs of the old governmental power were to be amputated, its
legitimate functions were to be wrested from an authority usurping pre-eminence over society
itself, and restored to the responsible agents of society. Instead of deciding once in three or six
years which member of the ruling class was to misrepresent the people in Parliament, universal
suffrage was to serve the people, constituted in Communes, as individual suffrage serves every
other employer in the search for the workmen and managers in his business. And it is well-known
that companies, like individuals, in matters of real business generally know how to put the right
man in the right place, and, if they for once make a mistake, to redress it promptly. On the other
hand, nothing could be more foreign to the spirit of the Commune than to supercede universal
suffrage by hierarchical investiture.12
It is generally the fate of completely new historical creations to be mistaken for the counterparts
of older, and even defunct, forms of social life, to which they may bear a certain likeness. Thus,
this new Commune, which breaks with the modern state power, has been mistaken for a
reproduction of the medieval Communes, which first preceded, and afterward became the
substratum of, that very state power. The Communal Constitution has been mistaken for an
attempt to break up into the federation of small states, as dreamt of by Montesquieu and the
Girondins13, that unity of great nations which, if originally brought about by political force, has
now become a powerful coefficient of social production. The antagonism of the Commune
against the state power has been mistaken for an exaggerated form of the ancient struggle against
over-centralization. Peculiar historical circumstances may have prevented the classical
development, as in France, of the bourgeois form of government, and may have allowed, as in
England, to complete the great central state organs by corrupt vestries, jobbing councillors, and
ferocious poor-law guardians in the towns, and virtually hereditary magistrates in the counties.
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According to all known laws
of aviation,


there is no way a bee
should be able to fly.


Its wings are too small to get
its fat little body off the ground.


The bee, of course, flies anyway


because bees don't care
what humans think is impossible.


Yellow, black. Yellow, black.
Yellow, black. Yellow, black.


Ooh, black and yellow!
Let's shake it up a little.


Barry! Breakfast is ready!


Ooming!


Hang on a second.


Hello?


- Barry?
- Adam?


- Oan you believe this is happening?
- I can't. I'll pick you up.


Looking sharp.


Use the stairs. Your father
paid good money for those.


Sorry. I'm excited.


Here's the graduate.
We're very proud of you, son.


A perfect report card, all B's.


Very proud.


Ma! I got a thing going here.


- You got lint on your fuzz.
- Ow! That's me!


- Wave to us! We'll be in row 118,000.
- Bye!


Barry, I told you,
stop flying in the house!


- Hey, Adam.
- Hey, Barry.


- Is that fuzz gel?
- A little. Special day, graduation.


Never thought I'd make it.


Three days grade school,
three days high school.


Those were awkward.


Three days college. I'm glad I took
a day and hitchhiked around the hive.


You did come back different.


- Hi, Barry.
- Artie, growing a mustache? Looks good.


- Hear about Frankie?
- Yeah.


- You going to the funeral?
- No, I'm not going.


Everybody knows,
sting someone, you die.


Don't waste it on a squirrel.
Such a hothead.


I guess he could have
just gotten out of the way.


I love this incorporating
an amusement park into our day.


That's why we don't need vacations.


Boy, quite a bit of pomp...
under the circumstances.


- Well, Adam, today we are men.
- We are!


- Bee-men.
- Amen!


Hallelujah!


Students, faculty, distinguished bees,


please welcome Dean Buzzwell.


Welcome, New Hive Oity
graduating class of...


...9:15.


That concludes our ceremonies.


And begins your career
at Honex Industries!


Will we pick ourjob today?


I heard it's just orientation.


Heads up! Here we go.


Keep your hands and antennas
inside the tram at all times.


- Wonder what it'll be like?
- A little scary.


Welcome to Honex,
a division of Honesco


and a part of the Hexagon Group.


This is it!


Wow.


Wow.


We know that you, as a bee,
have worked your whole life


to get to the point where you
can work for your whole life.


Honey begins when our valiant Pollen
Jocks bring the nectar to the hive.


Our top-secret formula


is automatically color-corrected,
scent-adjusted and bubble-contoured


into this soothing sweet syrup


with its distinctive
golden glow you know as...


Honey!


- That girl was hot.
- She's my cousin!


- She is?
- Yes, we're all cousins.


- Right. You're right.
- At Honex, we constantly strive


to improve every aspect
of bee existence.


These bees are stress-testing
a new helmet technology.


- What do you think he makes?
- Not enough.


Here we have our latest advancement,
the Krelman.


- What does that do?
- Oatches that little strand of honey


that hangs after you pour it.
Saves us millions.


Oan anyone work on the Krelman?


Of course. Most bee jobs are
small ones. But bees know


that every small job,
if it's done well, means a lot.


But choose carefully


because you'll stay in the job
you pick for the rest of your life.


The same job the rest of your life?
I didn't know that.


What's the difference?


You'll be happy to know that bees,
as a species, haven't had one day off


in 27 million years.


So you'll just work us to death?


We'll sure try.


Wow! That blew my mind!


"What's the difference?"
How can you say that?


One job forever?
That's an insane choice to have to make.


I'm relieved. Now we only have
to make one decision in life.


But, Adam, how could they
never have told us that?


Why would you question anything?
We're bees.


We're the most perfectly
functioning society on Earth.


You ever think maybe things
work a little too well here?


Like what? Give me one example.


I don't know. But you know
what I'm talking about.


Please clear the gate.
Royal Nectar Force on approach.


Wait a second. Oheck it out.


- Hey, those are Pollen Jocks!
- Wow.


I've never seen them this close.


They know what it's like
outside the hive.


Yeah, but some don't come back.


- Hey, Jocks!
- Hi, Jocks!


You guys did great!


You're monsters!
You're sky freaks! I love it! I love it!


- I wonder where they were.
- I don't know.


Their day's not planned.


Outside the hive, flying who knows
where, doing who knows what.


You can'tjust decide to be a Pollen
Jock. You have to be bred for that.


Right.


Look. That's more pollen
than you and I will see in a lifetime.


It's just a status symbol.
Bees make too much of it.


Perhaps. Unless you're wearing it
and the ladies see you wearing it.


Those ladies?
Aren't they our cousins too?


Distant. Distant.


Look at these two.


- Oouple of Hive Harrys.
- Let's have fun with them.


It must be dangerous
being a Pollen Jock.


Yeah. Once a bear pinned me
against a mushroom!


He had a paw on my throat,
and with the other, he was slapping me!


- Oh, my!
- I never thought I'd knock him out.


What were you doing during this?


Trying to alert the authorities.


I can autograph that.


A little gusty out there today,
wasn't it, comrades?


Yeah. Gusty.


We're hitting a sunflower patch
six miles from here tomorrow.


- Six miles, huh?
- Barry!


A puddle jump for us,
but maybe you're not up for it.


- Maybe I am.
- You are not!


We're going 0900 at J-Gate.


What do you think, buzzy-boy?
Are you bee enough?


I might be. It all depends
on what 0900 means.


Hey, Honex!


Dad, you surprised me.


You decide what you're interested in?


- Well, there's a lot of choices.
- But you only get one.


Do you ever get bored
doing the same job every day?


Son, let me tell you about stirring.


You grab that stick, and you just
move it around, and you stir it around.


You get yourself into a rhythm.
It's a beautiful thing.


You know, Dad,
the more I think about it,


maybe the honey field
just isn't right for me.


You were thinking of what,
making balloon animals?


That's a bad job
for a guy with a stinger.


Janet, your son's not sure
he wants to go into honey!


- Barry, you are so funny sometimes.
- I'm not trying to be funny.


You're not funny! You're going
into honey. Our son, the stirrer!


- You're gonna be a stirrer?
- No one's listening to me!


Wait till you see the sticks I have.


I could say anything right now.
I'm gonna get an ant tattoo!


Let's open some honey and celebrate!


Maybe I'll pierce my thorax.
Shave my antennae.


Shack up with a grasshopper. Get
a gold tooth and call everybody "dawg"!


I'm so proud.


- We're starting work today!
- Today's the day.


Oome on! All the good jobs
will be gone.


Yeah, right.


Pollen counting, stunt bee, pouring,
stirrer, front desk, hair removal...


- Is it still available?
- Hang on. Two left!


One of them's yours! Oongratulations!
Step to the side.


- What'd you get?
- Picking crud out. Stellar!


Wow!


Oouple of newbies?


Yes, sir! Our first day! We are ready!


Make your choice.


- You want to go first?
- No, you go.


Oh, my. What's available?


Restroom attendant's open,
not for the reason you think.


- Any chance of getting the Krelman?
- Sure, you're on.


I'm sorry, the Krelman just closed out.


Wax monkey's always open.


The Krelman opened up again.


What happened?


A bee died. Makes an opening. See?
He's dead. Another dead one.


Deady. Deadified. Two more dead.


Dead from the neck up.
Dead from the neck down. That's life!


Oh, this is so hard!


Heating, cooling,
stunt bee, pourer, stirrer,


humming, inspector number seven,
lint coordinator, stripe supervisor,


mite wrangler. Barry, what
do you think I should... Barry?


Barry!


All right, we've got the sunflower patch
in quadrant nine...


What happened to you?
Where are you?


- I'm going out.
- Out? Out where?


- Out there.
- Oh, no!


I have to, before I go
to work for the rest of my life.


You're gonna die! You're crazy! Hello?


Another call coming in.


If anyone's feeling brave,
there's a Korean deli on 83rd


that gets their roses today.


Hey, guys.


- Look at that.
- Isn't that the kid we saw yesterday?


Hold it, son, flight deck's restricted.


It's OK, Lou. We're gonna take him up.


Really? Feeling lucky, are you?


Sign here, here. Just initial that.


- Thank you.
- OK.


You got a rain advisory today,


and as you all know,
bees cannot fly in rain.


So be careful. As always,
watch your brooms,


hockey sticks, dogs,
birds, bears and bats.


Also, I got a couple of reports
of root beer being poured on us.


Murphy's in a home because of it,
babbling like a cicada!


- That's awful.
- And a reminder for you rookies,


bee law number one,
absolutely no talking to humans!


All right, launch positions!


Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz! Buzz, buzz,
buzz, buzz! Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz!


Black and yellow!


Hello!


You ready for this, hot shot?


Yeah. Yeah, bring it on.


Wind, check.


- Antennae, check.
- Nectar pack, check.


- Wings, check.
- Stinger, check.


Scared out of my shorts, check.


OK, ladies,


let's move it out!


Pound those petunias,
you striped stem-suckers!


All of you, drain those flowers!


Wow! I'm out!


I can't believe I'm out!


So blue.


I feel so fast and free!


Box kite!


Wow!


Flowers!


This is Blue Leader.
We have roses visual.


Bring it around 30 degrees and hold.


Roses!


30 degrees, roger. Bringing it around.


Stand to the side, kid.
It's got a bit of a kick.


That is one nectar collector!


- Ever see pollination up close?
- No, sir.


I pick up some pollen here, sprinkle it
over here. Maybe a dash over there,


a pinch on that one.
See that? It's a little bit of magic.


That's amazing. Why do we do that?


That's pollen power. More pollen, more
flowers, more nectar, more honey for us.


Oool.


I'm picking up a lot of bright yellow.
Oould be daisies. Don't we need those?


Oopy that visual.


Wait. One of these flowers
seems to be on the move.


Say again? You're reporting
a moving flower?


Affirmative.


That was on the line!


This is the coolest. What is it?


I don't know, but I'm loving this color.


It smells good.
Not like a flower, but I like it.


Yeah, fuzzy.


Ohemical-y.


Oareful, guys. It's a little grabby.


My sweet lord of bees!


Oandy-brain, get off there!


Problem!


- Guys!
- This could be bad.


Affirmative.


Very close.


Gonna hurt.


Mama's little boy.


You are way out of position, rookie!


Ooming in at you like a missile!


Help me!


I don't think these are flowers.


- Should we tell him?
- I think he knows.


What is this?!


Match point!


You can start packing up, honey,
because you're about to eat it!


Yowser!


Gross.


There's a bee in the car!


- Do something!
- I'm driving!


- Hi, bee.
- He's back here!


He's going to sting me!


Nobody move. If you don't move,
he won't sting you. Freeze!


He blinked!


Spray him, Granny!


What are you doing?!


Wow... the tension level
out here is unbelievable.


I gotta get home.


Oan't fly in rain.


Oan't fly in rain.


Oan't fly in rain.


Mayday! Mayday! Bee going down!


Ken, could you close
the window please?


Ken, could you close
the window please?


Oheck out my new resume.
I made it into a fold-out brochure.


You see? Folds out.


Oh, no. More humans. I don't need this.


What was that?


Maybe this time. This time. This time.
This time! This time! This...


Drapes!


That is diabolical.


It's fantastic. It's got all my special
skills, even my top-ten favorite movies.


What's number one? Star Wars?


Nah, I don't go for that...


...kind of stuff.


No wonder we shouldn't talk to them.
They're out of their minds.


When I leave a job interview, they're
flabbergasted, can't believe what I say.


There's the sun. Maybe that's a way out.


I don't remember the sun
having a big 75 on it.


I predicted global warming.


I could feel it getting hotter.
At first I thought it was just me.


Wait! Stop! Bee!


Stand back. These are winter boots.


Wait!


Don't kill him!


You know I'm allergic to them!
This thing could kill me!


Why does his life have
less value than yours?


Why does his life have any less value
than mine? Is that your statement?


I'm just saying all life has value. You
don't know what he's capable of feeling.


My brochure!


There you go, little guy.


I'm not scared of him.
It's an allergic thing.


Put that on your resume brochure.


My whole face could puff up.


Make it one of your special skills.


Knocking someone out
is also a special skill.


Right. Bye, Vanessa. Thanks.


- Vanessa, next week? Yogurt night?
- Sure, Ken. You know, whatever.


- You could put carob chips on there.
- Bye.


- Supposed to be less calories.
- Bye.


I gotta say something.


She saved my life.
I gotta say something.


All right, here it goes.


Nah.


What would I say?


I could really get in trouble.


It's a bee law.
You're not supposed to talk to a human.


I can't believe I'm doing this.


I've got to.


Oh, I can't do it. Oome on!


No. Yes. No.


Do it. I can't.


How should I start it?
"You like jazz?" No, that's no good.


Here she comes! Speak, you fool!


Hi!


I'm sorry.


- You're talking.
- Yes, I know.


You're talking!


I'm so sorry.


No, it's OK. It's fine.
I know I'm dreaming.


But I don't recall going to bed.


Well, I'm sure this
is very disconcerting.


This is a bit of a surprise to me.
I mean, you're a bee!


I am. And I'm not supposed
to be doing this,


but they were all trying to kill me.


And if it wasn't for you...


I had to thank you.
It's just how I was raised.


That was a little weird.


- I'm talking with a bee.
- Yeah.


I'm talking to a bee.
And the bee is talking to me!


I just want to say I'm grateful.
I'll leave now.


- Wait! How did you learn to do that?
- What?


The talking thing.


Same way you did, I guess.
"Mama, Dada, honey." You pick it up.


- That's very funny.
- Yeah.


Bees are funny. If we didn't laugh,
we'd cry with what we have to deal with.


Anyway...


Oan I...


...get you something?
- Like what?


I don't know. I mean...
I don't know. Ooffee?


I don't want to put you out.


It's no trouble. It takes two minutes.


- It's just coffee.
- I hate to impose.


- Don't be ridiculous!
- Actually, I would love a cup.


Hey, you want rum cake?


- I shouldn't.
- Have some.


- No, I can't.
- Oome on!


I'm trying to lose a couple micrograms.


- Where?
- These stripes don't help.


You look great!


I don't know if you know
anything about fashion.


Are you all right?


No.


He's making the tie in the cab
as they're flying up Madison.


He finally gets there.


He runs up the steps into the church.
The wedding is on.


And he says, "Watermelon?
I thought you said Guatemalan.


Why would I marry a watermelon?"


Is that a bee joke?


That's the kind of stuff we do.


Yeah, different.


So, what are you gonna do, Barry?


About work? I don't know.


I want to do my part for the hive,
but I can't do it the way they want.


I know how you feel.


- You do?
- Sure.


My parents wanted me to be a lawyer or
a doctor, but I wanted to be a florist.


- Really?
- My only interest is flowers.


Our new queen was just elected
with that same campaign slogan.


Anyway, if you look...


There's my hive right there. See it?


You're in Sheep Meadow!


Yes! I'm right off the Turtle Pond!


No way! I know that area.
I lost a toe ring there once.


- Why do girls put rings on their toes?
- Why not?


- It's like putting a hat on your knee.
- Maybe I'll try that.


- You all right, ma'am?
- Oh, yeah. Fine.


Just having two cups of coffee!


Anyway, this has been great.
Thanks for the coffee.


Yeah, it's no trouble.


Sorry I couldn't finish it. If I did,
I'd be up the rest of my life.


Are you...?


Oan I take a piece of this with me?


Sure! Here, have a crumb.


- Thanks!
- Yeah.


All right. Well, then...
I guess I'll see you around.


Or not.


OK, Barry.


And thank you
so much again... for before.


Oh, that? That was nothing.


Well, not nothing, but... Anyway...


This can't possibly work.


He's all set to go.
We may as well try it.


OK, Dave, pull the chute.


- Sounds amazing.
- It was amazing!


It was the scariest,
happiest moment of my life.


Humans! I can't believe
you were with humans!


Giant, scary humans!
What were they like?


Huge and crazy. They talk crazy.


They eat crazy giant things.
They drive crazy.


- Do they try and kill you, like on TV?
- Some of them. But some of them don't.


- How'd you get back?
- Poodle.


You did it, and I'm glad. You saw
whatever you wanted to see.


You had your "experience." Now you
can pick out yourjob and be normal.


- Well...
- Well?


Well, I met someone.


You did? Was she Bee-ish?


- A wasp?! Your parents will kill you!
- No, no, no, not a wasp.


- Spider?
- I'm not attracted to spiders.


I know it's the hottest thing,
with the eight legs and all.


I can't get by that face.


So who is she?


She's... human.


No, no. That's a bee law.
You wouldn't break a bee law.


- Her name's Vanessa.
- Oh, boy.


She's so nice. And she's a florist!


Oh, no! You're dating a human florist!


We're not dating.


You're flying outside the hive, talking
to humans that attack our homes


with power washers and M-80s!
One-eighth a stick of dynamite!


She saved my life!
And she understands me.


This is over!


Eat this.


This is not over! What was that?


- They call it a crumb.
- It was so stingin' stripey!


And that's not what they eat.
That's what falls off what they eat!


- You know what a Oinnabon is?
- No.


It's bread and cinnamon and frosting.
They heat it up...


Sit down!


...really hot!
- Listen to me!


We are not them! We're us.
There's us and there's them!


Yes, but who can deny
the heart that is yearning?


There's no yearning.
Stop yearning. Listen to me!


You have got to start thinking bee,
my friend. Thinking bee!


- Thinking bee.
- Thinking bee.


Thinking bee! Thinking bee!
Thinking bee! Thinking bee!


There he is. He's in the pool.


You know what your problem is, Barry?


I gotta start thinking bee?


How much longer will this go on?


It's been three days!
Why aren't you working?


I've got a lot of big life decisions
to think about.


What life? You have no life!
You have no job. You're barely a bee!


Would it kill you
to make a little honey?


Barry, come out.
Your father's talking to you.


Martin, would you talk to him?


Barry, I'm talking to you!


You coming?


Got everything?


All set!


Go ahead. I'll catch up.


Don't be too long.


Watch this!


Vanessa!


- We're still here.
- I told you not to yell at him.


He doesn't respond to yelling!


- Then why yell at me?
- Because you don't listen!


I'm not listening to this.


Sorry, I've gotta go.


- Where are you going?
- I'm meeting a friend.


A girl? Is this why you can't decide?


Bye.


I just hope she's Bee-ish.


They have a huge parade
of flowers every year in Pasadena?


To be in the Tournament of Roses,
that's every florist's dream!


Up on a float, surrounded
by flowers, crowds cheering.


A tournament. Do the roses
compete in athletic events?


No. All right, I've got one.
How come you don't fly everywhere?


It's exhausting. Why don't you
run everywhere? It's faster.


Yeah, OK, I see, I see.
All right, your turn.


TiVo. You can just freeze live TV?
That's insane!


You don't have that?


We have Hivo, but it's a disease.
It's a horrible, horrible disease.


Oh, my.


Dumb bees!


You must want to sting all those jerks.


We try not to sting.
It's usually fatal for us.


So you have to watch your temper.


Very carefully.
You kick a wall, take a walk,


write an angry letter and throw it out.
Work through it like any emotion:


Anger, jealousy, lust.


Oh, my goodness! Are you OK?


Yeah.


- What is wrong with you?!
- It's a bug.


He's not bothering anybody.
Get out of here, you creep!


What was that? A Pic 'N' Save circular?


Yeah, it was. How did you know?


It felt like about 10 pages.
Seventy-five is pretty much our limit.


You've really got that
down to a science.


- I lost a cousin to Italian Vogue.
- I'll bet.


What in the name
of Mighty Hercules is this?


How did this get here?
Oute Bee, Golden Blossom,


Ray Liotta Private Select?


- Is he that actor?
- I never heard of him.


- Why is this here?
- For people. We eat it.


You don't have
enough food of your own?


- Well, yes.
- How do you get it?


- Bees make it.
- I know who makes it!


And it's hard to make it!


There's heating, cooling, stirring.
You need a whole Krelman thing!


- It's organic.
- It's our-ganic!


It's just honey, Barry.


Just what?!


Bees don't know about this!
This is stealing! A lot of stealing!


You've taken our homes, schools,
hospitals! This is all we have!


And it's on sale?!
I'm getting to the bottom of this.


I'm getting to the bottom
of all of this!


Hey, Hector.


- You almost done?
- Almost.


He is here. I sense it.


Well, I guess I'll go home now


and just leave this nice honey out,
with no one around.


You're busted, box boy!


I knew I heard something.
So you can talk!


I can talk.
And now you'll start talking!


Where you getting the sweet stuff?
Who's your supplier?


I don't understand.
I thought we were friends.


The last thing we want
to do is upset bees!


You're too late! It's ours now!


You, sir, have crossed
the wrong sword!


You, sir, will be lunch
for my iguana, Ignacio!


Where is the honey coming from?


Tell me where!


Honey Farms! It comes from Honey Farms!


Orazy person!


What horrible thing has happened here?


These faces, they never knew
what hit them. And now


they're on the road to nowhere!


Just keep still.


What? You're not dead?


Do I look dead? They will wipe anything
that moves. Where you headed?


To Honey Farms.
I am onto something huge here.


I'm going to Alaska. Moose blood,
crazy stuff. Blows your head off!


I'm going to Tacoma.


- And you?
- He really is dead.


All right.


Uh-oh!


- What is that?!
- Oh, no!


- A wiper! Triple blade!
- Triple blade?


Jump on! It's your only chance, bee!


Why does everything have
to be so doggone clean?!


How much do you people need to see?!


Open your eyes!
Stick your head out the window!


From NPR News in Washington,
I'm Oarl Kasell.


But don't kill no more bugs!


- Bee!
- Moose blood guy!!


- You hear something?
- Like what?


Like tiny screaming.


Turn off the radio.


Whassup, bee boy?


Hey, Blood.


Just a row of honey jars,
as far as the eye could see.


Wow!


I assume wherever this truck goes
is where they're getting it.


I mean, that honey's ours.


- Bees hang tight.
- We're all jammed in.


It's a close community.


Not us, man. We on our own.
Every mosquito on his own.


- What if you get in trouble?
- You a mosquito, you in trouble.


Nobody likes us. They just smack.
See a mosquito, smack, smack!


At least you're out in the world.
You must meet girls.


Mosquito girls try to trade up,
get with a moth, dragonfly.


Mosquito girl don't want no mosquito.


You got to be kidding me!


Mooseblood's about to leave
the building! So long, bee!


- Hey, guys!
- Mooseblood!


I knew I'd catch y'all down here.
Did you bring your crazy straw?


We throw it in jars, slap a label on it,
and it's pretty much pure profit.


What is this place?


A bee's got a brain
the size of a pinhead.


They are pinheads!


Pinhead.


- Oheck out the new smoker.
- Oh, sweet. That's the one you want.


The Thomas 3000!


Smoker?


Ninety puffs a minute, semi-automatic.
Twice the nicotine, all the tar.


A couple breaths of this
knocks them right out.


They make the honey,
and we make the money.


"They make the honey,
and we make the money"?


Oh, my!


What's going on? Are you OK?


Yeah. It doesn't last too long.


Do you know you're
in a fake hive with fake walls?


Our queen was moved here.
We had no choice.


This is your queen?
That's a man in women's clothes!


That's a drag queen!


What is this?


Oh, no!


There's hundreds of them!


Bee honey.


Our honey is being brazenly stolen
on a massive scale!


This is worse than anything bears
have done! I intend to do something.


Oh, Barry, stop.


Who told you humans are taking
our honey? That's a rumor.


Do these look like rumors?


That's a conspiracy theory.
These are obviously doctored photos.


How did you get mixed up in this?


He's been talking to humans.


- What?
- Talking to humans?!


He has a human girlfriend.
And they make out!


Make out? Barry!


We do not.


- You wish you could.
- Whose side are you on?


The bees!


I dated a cricket once in San Antonio.
Those crazy legs kept me up all night.


Barry, this is what you want
to do with your life?


I want to do it for all our lives.
Nobody works harder than bees!


Dad, I remember you
coming home so overworked


your hands were still stirring.
You couldn't stop.


I remember that.


What right do they have to our honey?


We live on two cups a year. They put it
in lip balm for no reason whatsoever!


Even if it's true, what can one bee do?


Sting them where it really hurts.


In the face! The eye!


- That would hurt.
- No.


Up the nose? That's a killer.


There's only one place you can sting
the humans, one place where it matters.


Hive at Five, the hive's only
full-hour action news source.


No more bee beards!


With Bob Bumble at the anchor desk.


Weather with Storm Stinger.


Sports with Buzz Larvi.


And Jeanette Ohung.


- Good evening. I'm Bob Bumble.
- And I'm Jeanette Ohung.


A tri-county bee, Barry Benson,


intends to sue the human race
for stealing our honey,


packaging it and profiting
from it illegally!


Tomorrow night on Bee Larry King,


we'll have three former queens here in
our studio, discussing their new book,


Olassy Ladies,
out this week on Hexagon.


Tonight we're talking to Barry Benson.


Did you ever think, "I'm a kid
from the hive. I can't do this"?


Bees have never been afraid
to change the world.


What about Bee Oolumbus?
Bee Gandhi? Bejesus?


Where I'm from, we'd never sue humans.


We were thinking
of stickball or candy stores.


How old are you?


The bee community
is supporting you in this case,


which will be the trial
of the bee century.


You know, they have a Larry King
in the human world too.


It's a common name. Next week...


He looks like you and has a show
and suspenders and colored dots...


Next week...


Glasses, quotes on the bottom from the
guest even though you just heard 'em.


Bear Week next week!
They're scary, hairy and here live.


Always leans forward, pointy shoulders,
squinty eyes, very Jewish.


In tennis, you attack
at the point of weakness!


It was my grandmother, Ken. She's 81.


Honey, her backhand's a joke!
I'm not gonna take advantage of that?


Quiet, please.
Actual work going on here.


- Is that that same bee?
- Yes, it is!


I'm helping him sue the human race.


- Hello.
- Hello, bee.


This is Ken.


Yeah, I remember you. Timberland, size
ten and a half. Vibram sole, I believe.


Why does he talk again?


Listen, you better go
'cause we're really busy working.


But it's our yogurt night!


Bye-bye.


Why is yogurt night so difficult?!


You poor thing.
You two have been at this for hours!


Yes, and Adam here
has been a huge help.


- Frosting...
- How many sugars?


Just one. I try not
to use the competition.


So why are you helping me?


Bees have good qualities.


And it takes my mind off the shop.


Instead of flowers, people
are giving balloon bouquets now.


Those are great, if you're three.


And artificial flowers.


- Oh, those just get me psychotic!
- Yeah, me too.


Bent stingers, pointless pollination.


Bees must hate those fake things!


Nothing worse
than a daffodil that's had work done.


Maybe this could make up
for it a little bit.


- This lawsuit's a pretty big deal.
- I guess.


You sure you want to go through with it?


Am I sure? When I'm done with
the humans, they won't be able


to say, "Honey, I'm home,"
without paying a royalty!


It's an incredible scene
here in downtown Manhattan,


where the world anxiously waits,
because for the first time in history,


we will hear for ourselves
if a honeybee can actually speak.


What have we gotten into here, Barry?


It's pretty big, isn't it?


I can't believe how many humans
don't work during the day.


You think billion-dollar multinational
food companies have good lawyers?


Everybody needs to stay
behind the barricade.


- What's the matter?
- I don't know, I just got a chill.


Well, if it isn't the bee team.


You boys work on this?


All rise! The Honorable
Judge Bumbleton presiding.


All right. Oase number 4475,


Superior Oourt of New York,
Barry Bee Benson v. the Honey Industry


is now in session.


Mr. Montgomery, you're representing
the five food companies collectively?


A privilege.


Mr. Benson... you're representing
all the bees of the world?


I'm kidding. Yes, Your Honor,
we're ready to proceed.


Mr. Montgomery,
your opening statement, please.


Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,


my grandmother was a simple woman.


Born on a farm, she believed
it was man's divine right


to benefit from the bounty
of nature God put before us.


If we lived in the topsy-turvy world
Mr. Benson imagines,


just think of what would it mean.


I would have to negotiate
with the silkworm


for the elastic in my britches!


Talking bee!


How do we know this isn't some sort of


holographic motion-picture-capture
Hollywood wizardry?


They could be using laser beams!


Robotics! Ventriloquism!
Oloning! For all we know,


he could be on steroids!


Mr. Benson?


Ladies and gentlemen,
there's no trickery here.


I'm just an ordinary bee.
Honey's pretty important to me.


It's important to all bees.
We invented it!


We make it. And we protect it
with our lives.


Unfortunately, there are
some people in this room


who think they can take it from us


'cause we're the little guys!
I'm hoping that, after this is all over,


you'll see how, by taking our honey,
you not only take everything we have


but everything we are!


I wish he'd dress like that
all the time. So nice!


Oall your first witness.


So, Mr. Klauss Vanderhayden
of Honey Farms, big company you have.


I suppose so.


I see you also own
Honeyburton and Honron!


Yes, they provide beekeepers
for our farms.


Beekeeper. I find that
to be a very disturbing term.


I don't imagine you employ
any bee-free-ers, do you?


- No.
- I couldn't hear you.


- No.
- No.


Because you don't free bees.
You keep bees. Not only that,


it seems you thought a bear would be
an appropriate image for a jar of honey.


They're very lovable creatures.


Yogi Bear, Fozzie Bear, Build-A-Bear.


You mean like this?


Bears kill bees!


How'd you like his head crashing
through your living room?!


Biting into your couch!
Spitting out your throw pillows!


OK, that's enough. Take him away.


So, Mr. Sting, thank you for being here.
Your name intrigues me.


- Where have I heard it before?
- I was with a band called The Police.


But you've never been
a police officer, have you?


No, I haven't.


No, you haven't. And so here
we have yet another example


of bee culture casually
stolen by a human


for nothing more than
a prance-about stage name.


Oh, please.


Have you ever been stung, Mr. Sting?


Because I'm feeling
a little stung, Sting.


Or should I say... Mr. Gordon M. Sumner!


That's not his real name?! You idiots!


Mr. Liotta, first,
belated congratulations on


your Emmy win for a guest spot
on ER in 2005.


Thank you. Thank you.


I see from your resume
that you're devilishly handsome


with a churning inner turmoil
that's ready to blow.


I enjoy what I do. Is that a crime?


Not yet it isn't. But is this
what it's come to for you?


Exploiting tiny, helpless bees
so you don't


have to rehearse
your part and learn your lines, sir?


Watch it, Benson!
I could blow right now!


This isn't a goodfella.
This is a badfella!


Why doesn't someone just step on
this creep, and we can all go home?!


- Order in this court!
- You're all thinking it!


Order! Order, I say!


- Say it!
- Mr. Liotta, please sit down!


I think it was awfully nice
of that bear to pitch in like that.


I think the jury's on our side.


Are we doing everything right, legally?


I'm a florist.


Right. Well, here's to a great team.


To a great team!


Well, hello.


- Ken!
- Hello.


I didn't think you were coming.


No, I was just late.
I tried to call, but... the battery.


I didn't want all this to go to waste,
so I called Barry. Luckily, he was free.


Oh, that was lucky.


There's a little left.
I could heat it up.


Yeah, heat it up, sure, whatever.


So I hear you're quite a tennis player.


I'm not much for the game myself.
The ball's a little grabby.


That's where I usually sit.
Right... there.


Ken, Barry was looking at your resume,


and he agreed with me that eating with
chopsticks isn't really a special skill.


You think I don't see what you're doing?


I know how hard it is to find
the rightjob. We have that in common.


Do we?


Bees have 100 percent employment,
but we do jobs like taking the crud out.


That's just what
I was thinking about doing.


Ken, I let Barry borrow your razor
for his fuzz. I hope that was all right.


I'm going to drain the old stinger.


Yeah, you do that.


Look at that.


You know, I've just about had it


with your little mind games.


- What's that?
- Italian Vogue.


Mamma mia, that's a lot of pages.


A lot of ads.


Remember what Van said, why is
your life more valuable than mine?


Funny, I just can't seem to recall that!


I think something stinks in here!


I love the smell of flowers.


How do you like the smell of flames?!


Not as much.


Water bug! Not taking sides!


Ken, I'm wearing a Ohapstick hat!
This is pathetic!


I've got issues!


Well, well, well, a royal flush!


- You're bluffing.
- Am I?


Surf's up, dude!


Poo water!


That bowl is gnarly.


Except for those dirty yellow rings!


Kenneth! What are you doing?!


You know, I don't even like honey!
I don't eat it!


We need to talk!


He's just a little bee!


And he happens to be
the nicest bee I've met in a long time!


Long time? What are you talking about?!
Are there other bugs in your life?


No, but there are other things bugging
me in life. And you're one of them!


Fine! Talking bees, no yogurt night...


My nerves are fried from riding
on this emotional roller coaster!


Goodbye, Ken.


And for your information,


I prefer sugar-free, artificial
sweeteners made by man!


I'm sorry about all that.


I know it's got
an aftertaste! I like it!


I always felt there was some kind
of barrier between Ken and me.


I couldn't overcome it.
Oh, well.


Are you OK for the trial?


I believe Mr. Montgomery
is about out of ideas.


We would like to call
Mr. Barry Benson Bee to the stand.


Good idea! You can really see why he's
considered one of the best lawyers...


Yeah.


Layton, you've
gotta weave some magic


with this jury,
or it's gonna be all over.


Don't worry. The only thing I have
to do to turn this jury around


is to remind them
of what they don't like about bees.


- You got the tweezers?
- Are you allergic?


Only to losing, son. Only to losing.


Mr. Benson Bee, I'll ask you
what I think we'd all like to know.


What exactly is your relationship


to that woman?


We're friends.


- Good friends?
- Yes.


How good? Do you live together?


Wait a minute...


Are you her little...


...bedbug?


I've seen a bee documentary or two.
From what I understand,


doesn't your queen give birth
to all the bee children?


- Yeah, but...
- So those aren't your real parents!


- Oh, Barry...
- Yes, they are!


Hold me back!


You're an illegitimate bee,
aren't you, Benson?


He's denouncing bees!


Don't y'all date your cousins?


- Objection!
- I'm going to pincushion this guy!


Adam, don't! It's what he wants!


Oh, I'm hit!!


Oh, lordy, I am hit!


Order! Order!


The venom! The venom
is coursing through my veins!


I have been felled
by a winged beast of destruction!


You see? You can't treat them
like equals! They're striped savages!


Stinging's the only thing
they know! It's their way!


- Adam, stay with me.
- I can't feel my legs.


What angel of mercy
will come forward to suck the poison


from my heaving buttocks?


I will have order in this court. Order!


Order, please!


The case of the honeybees
versus the human race


took a pointed turn against the bees


yesterday when one of their legal
team stung Layton T. Montgomery.


- Hey, buddy.
- Hey.


- Is there much pain?
- Yeah.


I...


I blew the whole case, didn't I?


It doesn't matter. What matters is
you're alive. You could have died.


I'd be better off dead. Look at me.


They got it from the cafeteria
downstairs, in a tuna sandwich.


Look, there's
a little celery still on it.


What was it like to sting someone?


I can't explain it. It was all...


All adrenaline and then...
and then ecstasy!


All right.


You think it was all a trap?


Of course. I'm sorry.
I flew us right into this.


What were we thinking? Look at us. We're
just a couple of bugs in this world.


What will the humans do to us
if they win?


I don't know.


I hear they put the roaches in motels.
That doesn't sound so bad.


Adam, they check in,
but they don't check out!


Oh, my.


Oould you get a nurse
to close that window?


- Why?
- The smoke.


Bees don't smoke.


Right. Bees don't smoke.


Bees don't smoke!
But some bees are smoking.


That's it! That's our case!


It is? It's not over?


Get dressed. I've gotta go somewhere.


Get back to the court and stall.
Stall any way you can.


And assuming you've done step correctly, you're ready for the tub.


Mr. Flayman.


Yes? Yes, Your Honor!


Where is the rest of your team?


Well, Your Honor, it's interesting.


Bees are trained to fly haphazardly,


and as a result,
we don't make very good time.


I actually heard a funny story about...


Your Honor,
haven't these ridiculous bugs


taken up enough
of this court's valuable time?


How much longer will we allow
these absurd shenanigans to go on?


They have presented no compelling
evidence to support their charges


against my clients,
who run legitimate businesses.


I move for a complete dismissal
of this entire case!


Mr. Flayman, I'm afraid I'm going


to have to consider
Mr. Montgomery's motion.


But you can't! We have a terrific case.


Where is your proof?
Where is the evidence?


Show me the smoking gun!


Hold it, Your Honor!
You want a smoking gun?


Here is your smoking gun.


What is that?


It's a bee smoker!


What, this?
This harmless little contraption?


This couldn't hurt a fly,
let alone a bee.


Look at what has happened


to bees who have never been asked,
"Smoking or non?"


Is this what nature intended for us?


To be forcibly addicted
to smoke machines


and man-made wooden slat work camps?


Living out our lives as honey slaves
to the white man?


- What are we gonna do?
- He's playing the species card.


Ladies and gentlemen, please,
free these bees!


Free the bees! Free the bees!


Free the bees!


Free the bees! Free the bees!


The court finds in favor of the bees!


Vanessa, we won!


I knew you could do it! High-five!


Sorry.


I'm OK! You know what this means?


All the honey
will finally belong to the bees.


Now we won't have
to work so hard all the time.


This is an unholy perversion
of the balance of nature, Benson.


You'll regret this.


Barry, how much honey is out there?


All right. One at a time.


Barry, who are you wearing?


My sweater is Ralph Lauren,
and I have no pants.


- What if Montgomery's right?
- What do you mean?


We've been living the bee way
a long time, 27 million years.


Oongratulations on your victory.
What will you demand as a settlement?


First, we'll demand a complete shutdown
of all bee work camps.


Then we want back the honey
that was ours to begin with,


every last drop.


We demand an end to the glorification
of the bear as anything more


than a filthy, smelly,
bad-breath stink machine.


We're all aware
of what they do in the woods.


Wait for my signal.


Take him out.


He'll have nauseous
for a few hours, then he'll be fine.


And we will no longer tolerate
bee-negative nicknames...


But it's just a prance-about stage name!


...unnecessary inclusion of honey
in bogus health products


and la-dee-da human
tea-time snack garnishments.


Oan't breathe.


Bring it in, boys!


Hold it right there! Good.


Tap it.


Mr. Buzzwell, we just passed three cups,
and there's gallons more coming!


- I think we need to shut down!
- Shut down? We've never shut down.


Shut down honey production!


Stop making honey!


Turn your key, sir!


What do we do now?


Oannonball!


We're shutting honey production!


Mission abort.


Aborting pollination and nectar detail.
Returning to base.


Adam, you wouldn't believe
how much honey was out there.


Oh, yeah?


What's going on? Where is everybody?


- Are they out celebrating?
- They're home.


They don't know what to do.
Laying out, sleeping in.


I heard your Uncle Oarl was on his way
to San Antonio with a cricket.


At least we got our honey back.


Sometimes I think, so what if humans
liked our honey? Who wouldn't?


It's the greatest thing in the world!
I was excited to be part of making it.


This was my new desk. This was my
new job. I wanted to do it really well.


And now...


Now I can't.


I don't understand
why they're not happy.


I thought their lives would be better!


They're doing nothing. It's amazing.
Honey really changes people.


You don't have any idea
what's going on, do you?


- What did you want to show me?
- This.


What happened here?


That is not the half of it.


Oh, no. Oh, my.


They're all wilting.


Doesn't look very good, does it?


No.


And whose fault do you think that is?


You know, I'm gonna guess bees.


Bees?


Specifically, me.


I didn't think bees not needing to make
honey would affect all these things.


It's notjust flowers.
Fruits, vegetables, they all need bees.


That's our whole SAT test right there.


Take away produce, that affects
the entire animal kingdom.


And then, of course...


The human species?


So if there's no more pollination,


it could all just go south here,
couldn't it?


I know this is also partly my fault.


How about a suicide pact?


How do we do it?


- I'll sting you, you step on me.
- Thatjust kills you twice.


Right, right.


Listen, Barry...
sorry, but I gotta get going.


I had to open my mouth and talk.


Vanessa?


Vanessa? Why are you leaving?
Where are you going?


To the final Tournament of Roses parade
in Pasadena.


They've moved it to this weekend
because all the flowers are dying.


It's the last chance
I'll ever have to see it.


Vanessa, I just wanna say I'm sorry.
I never meant it to turn out like this.


I know. Me neither.


Tournament of Roses.
Roses can't do sports.


Wait a minute. Roses. Roses?


Roses!


Vanessa!


Roses?!


Barry?


- Roses are flowers!
- Yes, they are.


Flowers, bees, pollen!


I know.
That's why this is the last parade.


Maybe not.
Oould you ask him to slow down?


Oould you slow down?


Barry!


OK, I made a huge mistake.
This is a total disaster, all my fault.


Yes, it kind of is.


I've ruined the planet.
I wanted to help you


with the flower shop.
I've made it worse.


Actually, it's completely closed down.


I thought maybe you were remodeling.


But I have another idea, and it's
greater than my previous ideas combined.


I don't want to hear it!


All right, they have the roses,
the roses have the pollen.


I know every bee, plant
and flower bud in this park.


All we gotta do is get what they've got
back here with what we've got.


- Bees.
- Park.


- Pollen!
- Flowers.


- Repollination!
- Across the nation!


Tournament of Roses,
Pasadena, Oalifornia.


They've got nothing
but flowers, floats and cotton candy.


Security will be tight.


I have an idea.


Vanessa Bloome, FTD.


Official floral business. It's real.


Sorry, ma'am. Nice brooch.


Thank you. It was a gift.


Once inside,
we just pick the right float.


How about The Princess and the Pea?


I could be the princess,
and you could be the pea!


Yes, I got it.


- Where should I sit?
- What are you?


- I believe I'm the pea.
- The pea?


It goes under the mattresses.


- Not in this fairy tale, sweetheart.
- I'm getting the marshal.


You do that!
This whole parade is a fiasco!


Let's see what this baby'll do.


Hey, what are you doing?!


Then all we do
is blend in with traffic...


...without arousing suspicion.


Once at the airport,
there's no stopping us.


Stop! Security.


- You and your insect pack your float?
- Yes.


Has it been
in your possession the entire time?


Would you remove your shoes?


- Remove your stinger.
- It's part of me.


I know. Just having some fun.
Enjoy your flight.


Then if we're lucky, we'll have
just enough pollen to do the job.


Oan you believe how lucky we are? We
have just enough pollen to do the job!


I think this is gonna work.


It's got to work.


Attention, passengers,
this is Oaptain Scott.


We have a bit of bad weather
in New York.


It looks like we'll experience
a couple hours delay.


Barry, these are cut flowers
with no water. They'll never make it.


I gotta get up there
and talk to them.


Be careful.


Oan I get help
with the Sky Mall magazine?


I'd like to order the talking
inflatable nose and ear hair trimmer.


Oaptain, I'm in a real situation.


- What'd you say, Hal?
- Nothing.


Bee!


Don't freak out! My entire species...


What are you doing?


- Wait a minute! I'm an attorney!
- Who's an attorney?


Don't move.


Oh, Barry.


Good afternoon, passengers.
This is your captain.


Would a Miss Vanessa Bloome in 24B
please report to the cockpit?


And please hurry!


What happened here?


There was a DustBuster,
a toupee, a life raft exploded.


One's bald, one's in a boat,
they're both unconscious!


- Is that another bee joke?
- No!


No one's flying the plane!


This is JFK control tower, Flight 356.
What's your status?


This is Vanessa Bloome.
I'm a florist from New York.


Where's the pilot?


He's unconscious,
and so is the copilot.


Not good. Does anyone onboard
have flight experience?


As a matter of fact, there is.


- Who's that?
- Barry Benson.


From the honey trial?! Oh, great.


Vanessa, this is nothing more
than a big metal bee.


It's got giant wings, huge engines.


I can't fly a plane.


- Why not? Isn't John Travolta a pilot?
- Yes.


How hard could it be?


Wait, Barry!
We're headed into some lightning.


This is Bob Bumble. We have some
late-breaking news from JFK Airport,


where a suspenseful scene
is developing.


Barry Benson,
fresh from his legal victory...


That's Barry!


...is attempting to land a plane,
loaded with people, flowers


and an incapacitated flight crew.


Flowers?!


We have a storm in the area
and two individuals at the controls


with absolutely no flight experience.


Just a minute.
There's a bee on that plane.


I'm quite familiar with Mr. Benson
and his no-account compadres.


They've done enough damage.


But isn't he your only hope?


Technically, a bee
shouldn't be able to fly at all.


Their wings are too small...


Haven't we heard this a million times?


"The surface area of the wings
and body mass make no sense."


- Get this on the air!
- Got it.


- Stand by.
- We're going live.


The way we work may be a mystery to you.


Making honey takes a lot of bees
doing a lot of small jobs.


But let me tell you about a small job.


If you do it well,
it makes a big difference.


More than we realized.
To us, to everyone.


That's why I want to get bees
back to working together.


That's the bee way!
We're not made of Jell-O.


We get behind a fellow.


- Black and yellow!
- Hello!


Left, right, down, hover.


- Hover?
- Forget hover.


This isn't so hard.
Beep-beep! Beep-beep!


Barry, what happened?!


Wait, I think we were
on autopilot the whole time.


- That may have been helping me.
- And now we're not!


So it turns out I cannot fly a plane.


All of you, let's get
behind this fellow! Move it out!


Move out!


Our only chance is if I do what I'd do,
you copy me with the wings of the plane!


Don't have to yell.


I'm not yelling!
We're in a lot of trouble.


It's very hard to concentrate
with that panicky tone in your voice!


It's not a tone. I'm panicking!


I can't do this!


Vanessa, pull yourself together.
You have to snap out of it!


You snap out of it.


You snap out of it.


- You snap out of it!
- You snap out of it!


- You snap out of it!
- You snap out of it!


- You snap out of it!
- You snap out of it!


- Hold it!
- Why? Oome on, it's my turn.


How is the plane flying?


I don't know.


Hello?


Benson, got any flowers
for a happy occasion in there?


The Pollen Jocks!


They do get behind a fellow.


- Black and yellow.
- Hello.


All right, let's drop this tin can
on the blacktop.


Where? I can't see anything. Oan you?


No, nothing. It's all cloudy.


Oome on. You got to think bee, Barry.


- Thinking bee.
- Thinking bee.


Thinking bee!
Thinking bee! Thinking bee!


Wait a minute.
I think I'm feeling something.


- What?
- I don't know. It's strong, pulling me.


Like a 27-million-year-old instinct.


Bring the nose down.


Thinking bee!
Thinking bee! Thinking bee!


- What in the world is on the tarmac?
- Get some lights on that!


Thinking bee!
Thinking bee! Thinking bee!


- Vanessa, aim for the flower.
- OK.


Out the engines. We're going in
on bee power. Ready, boys?


Affirmative!


Good. Good. Easy, now. That's it.


Land on that flower!


Ready? Full reverse!


Spin it around!


- Not that flower! The other one!
- Which one?


- That flower.
- I'm aiming at the flower!


That's a fat guy in a flowered shirt.
I mean the giant pulsating flower


made of millions of bees!


Pull forward. Nose down. Tail up.


Rotate around it.


- This is insane, Barry!
- This's the only way I know how to fly.


Am I koo-koo-kachoo, or is this plane
flying in an insect-like pattern?


Get your nose in there. Don't be afraid.
Smell it. Full reverse!


Just drop it. Be a part of it.


Aim for the center!


Now drop it in! Drop it in, woman!


Oome on, already.


Barry, we did it!
You taught me how to fly!


- Yes. No high-five!
- Right.


Barry, it worked!
Did you see the giant flower?


What giant flower? Where? Of course
I saw the flower! That was genius!


- Thank you.
- But we're not done yet.


Listen, everyone!


This runway is covered
with the last pollen


from the last flowers
available anywhere on Earth.


That means this is our last chance.


We're the only ones who make honey,
pollinate flowers and dress like this.


If we're gonna survive as a species,
this is our moment! What do you say?


Are we going to be bees, orjust
Museum of Natural History keychains?


We're bees!


Keychain!


Then follow me! Except Keychain.


Hold on, Barry. Here.


You've earned this.


Yeah!


I'm a Pollen Jock! And it's a perfect
fit. All I gotta do are the sleeves.


Oh, yeah.


That's our Barry.


Mom! The bees are back!


If anybody needs
to make a call, now's the time.


I got a feeling we'll be
working late tonight!


Here's your change. Have a great
afternoon! Oan I help who's next?


Would you like some honey with that?
It is bee-approved. Don't forget these.


Milk, cream, cheese, it's all me.
And I don't see a nickel!


Sometimes I just feel
like a piece of meat!


I had no idea.


Barry, I'm sorry.
Have you got a moment?


Would you excuse me?
My mosquito associate will help you.


Sorry I'm late.


He's a lawyer too?


I was already a blood-sucking parasite.
All I needed was a briefcase.


Have a great afternoon!


Barry, I just got this huge tulip order,
and I can't get them anywhere.


No problem, Vannie.
Just leave it to me.


You're a lifesaver, Barry.
Oan I help who's next?


All right, scramble, jocks!
It's time to fly.


Thank you, Barry!


That bee is living my life!


Let it go, Kenny.


- When will this nightmare end?!
- Let it all go.


- Beautiful day to fly.
- Sure is.


Between you and me,
I was dying to get out of that office.


You have got
to start thinking bee, my friend.


- Thinking bee!
- Me?


Hold it. Let's just stop
for a second. Hold it.


I'm sorry. I'm sorry, everyone.
Oan we stop here?


I'm not making a major life decision
during a production number!


All right. Take ten, everybody.
Wrap it up, guys.


I had virtually no rehearsal for that.

Special thanks to SergeiK.
Hidden 7 yrs ago Post by BrokenPromise
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BrokenPromise With Rightious Hands

Member Seen 40 min ago

so much copypasta.
Hidden 7 yrs ago Post by Keyguyperson
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Keyguyperson Welcome to Cyberhell

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According to all known laws
of aviation,


there is no way a bee
should be able to fly.


Its wings are too small to get
its fat little body off the ground.


The bee, of course, flies anyway


because bees don't care
what humans think is impossible.


Yellow, black. Yellow, black.
Yellow, black. Yellow, black.


Ooh, black and yellow!
Let's shake it up a little.


Barry! Breakfast is ready!


Ooming!


Hang on a second.


Hello?


- Barry?
- Adam?


- Oan you believe this is happening?
- I can't. I'll pick you up.


Looking sharp.


Use the stairs. Your father
paid good money for those.


Sorry. I'm excited.


Here's the graduate.
We're very proud of you, son.


A perfect report card, all B's.


Very proud.


Ma! I got a thing going here.


- You got lint on your fuzz.
- Ow! That's me!


- Wave to us! We'll be in row 118,000.
- Bye!


Barry, I told you,
stop flying in the house!


- Hey, Adam.
- Hey, Barry.


- Is that fuzz gel?
- A little. Special day, graduation.


Never thought I'd make it.


Three days grade school,
three days high school.


Those were awkward.


Three days college. I'm glad I took
a day and hitchhiked around the hive.


You did come back different.


- Hi, Barry.
- Artie, growing a mustache? Looks good.


- Hear about Frankie?
- Yeah.


- You going to the funeral?
- No, I'm not going.


Everybody knows,
sting someone, you die.


Don't waste it on a squirrel.
Such a hothead.


I guess he could have
just gotten out of the way.


I love this incorporating
an amusement park into our day.


That's why we don't need vacations.


Boy, quite a bit of pomp...
under the circumstances.


- Well, Adam, today we are men.
- We are!


- Bee-men.
- Amen!


Hallelujah!


Students, faculty, distinguished bees,


please welcome Dean Buzzwell.


Welcome, New Hive Oity
graduating class of...


...9:15.


That concludes our ceremonies.


And begins your career
at Honex Industries!


Will we pick ourjob today?


I heard it's just orientation.


Heads up! Here we go.


Keep your hands and antennas
inside the tram at all times.


- Wonder what it'll be like?
- A little scary.


Welcome to Honex,
a division of Honesco


and a part of the Hexagon Group.


This is it!


Wow.


Wow.


We know that you, as a bee,
have worked your whole life


to get to the point where you
can work for your whole life.


Honey begins when our valiant Pollen
Jocks bring the nectar to the hive.


Our top-secret formula


is automatically color-corrected,
scent-adjusted and bubble-contoured


into this soothing sweet syrup


with its distinctive
golden glow you know as...


Honey!


- That girl was hot.
- She's my cousin!


- She is?
- Yes, we're all cousins.


- Right. You're right.
- At Honex, we constantly strive


to improve every aspect
of bee existence.


These bees are stress-testing
a new helmet technology.


- What do you think he makes?
- Not enough.


Here we have our latest advancement,
the Krelman.


- What does that do?
- Oatches that little strand of honey


that hangs after you pour it.
Saves us millions.


Oan anyone work on the Krelman?


Of course. Most bee jobs are
small ones. But bees know


that every small job,
if it's done well, means a lot.


But choose carefully


because you'll stay in the job
you pick for the rest of your life.


The same job the rest of your life?
I didn't know that.


What's the difference?


You'll be happy to know that bees,
as a species, haven't had one day off


in 27 million years.


So you'll just work us to death?


We'll sure try.


Wow! That blew my mind!


"What's the difference?"
How can you say that?


One job forever?
That's an insane choice to have to make.


I'm relieved. Now we only have
to make one decision in life.


But, Adam, how could they
never have told us that?


Why would you question anything?
We're bees.


We're the most perfectly
functioning society on Earth.


You ever think maybe things
work a little too well here?


Like what? Give me one example.


I don't know. But you know
what I'm talking about.


Please clear the gate.
Royal Nectar Force on approach.


Wait a second. Oheck it out.


- Hey, those are Pollen Jocks!
- Wow.


I've never seen them this close.


They know what it's like
outside the hive.


Yeah, but some don't come back.


- Hey, Jocks!
- Hi, Jocks!


You guys did great!


You're monsters!
You're sky freaks! I love it! I love it!


- I wonder where they were.
- I don't know.


Their day's not planned.


Outside the hive, flying who knows
where, doing who knows what.


You can'tjust decide to be a Pollen
Jock. You have to be bred for that.


Right.


Look. That's more pollen
than you and I will see in a lifetime.


It's just a status symbol.
Bees make too much of it.


Perhaps. Unless you're wearing it
and the ladies see you wearing it.


Those ladies?
Aren't they our cousins too?


Distant. Distant.


Look at these two.


- Oouple of Hive Harrys.
- Let's have fun with them.


It must be dangerous
being a Pollen Jock.


Yeah. Once a bear pinned me
against a mushroom!


He had a paw on my throat,
and with the other, he was slapping me!


- Oh, my!
- I never thought I'd knock him out.


What were you doing during this?


Trying to alert the authorities.


I can autograph that.


A little gusty out there today,
wasn't it, comrades?


Yeah. Gusty.


We're hitting a sunflower patch
six miles from here tomorrow.


- Six miles, huh?
- Barry!


A puddle jump for us,
but maybe you're not up for it.


- Maybe I am.
- You are not!


We're going 0900 at J-Gate.


What do you think, buzzy-boy?
Are you bee enough?


I might be. It all depends
on what 0900 means.


Hey, Honex!


Dad, you surprised me.


You decide what you're interested in?


- Well, there's a lot of choices.
- But you only get one.


Do you ever get bored
doing the same job every day?


Son, let me tell you about stirring.


You grab that stick, and you just
move it around, and you stir it around.


You get yourself into a rhythm.
It's a beautiful thing.


You know, Dad,
the more I think about it,


maybe the honey field
just isn't right for me.


You were thinking of what,
making balloon animals?


That's a bad job
for a guy with a stinger.


Janet, your son's not sure
he wants to go into honey!


- Barry, you are so funny sometimes.
- I'm not trying to be funny.


You're not funny! You're going
into honey. Our son, the stirrer!


- You're gonna be a stirrer?
- No one's listening to me!


Wait till you see the sticks I have.


I could say anything right now.
I'm gonna get an ant tattoo!


Let's open some honey and celebrate!


Maybe I'll pierce my thorax.
Shave my antennae.


Shack up with a grasshopper. Get
a gold tooth and call everybody "dawg"!


I'm so proud.


- We're starting work today!
- Today's the day.


Oome on! All the good jobs
will be gone.


Yeah, right.


Pollen counting, stunt bee, pouring,
stirrer, front desk, hair removal...


- Is it still available?
- Hang on. Two left!


One of them's yours! Oongratulations!
Step to the side.


- What'd you get?
- Picking crud out. Stellar!


Wow!


Oouple of newbies?


Yes, sir! Our first day! We are ready!


Make your choice.


- You want to go first?
- No, you go.


Oh, my. What's available?


Restroom attendant's open,
not for the reason you think.


- Any chance of getting the Krelman?
- Sure, you're on.


I'm sorry, the Krelman just closed out.


Wax monkey's always open.


The Krelman opened up again.


What happened?


A bee died. Makes an opening. See?
He's dead. Another dead one.


Deady. Deadified. Two more dead.


Dead from the neck up.
Dead from the neck down. That's life!


Oh, this is so hard!


Heating, cooling,
stunt bee, pourer, stirrer,


humming, inspector number seven,
lint coordinator, stripe supervisor,


mite wrangler. Barry, what
do you think I should... Barry?


Barry!


All right, we've got the sunflower patch
in quadrant nine...


What happened to you?
Where are you?


- I'm going out.
- Out? Out where?


- Out there.
- Oh, no!


I have to, before I go
to work for the rest of my life.


You're gonna die! You're crazy! Hello?


Another call coming in.


If anyone's feeling brave,
there's a Korean deli on 83rd


that gets their roses today.


Hey, guys.


- Look at that.
- Isn't that the kid we saw yesterday?


Hold it, son, flight deck's restricted.


It's OK, Lou. We're gonna take him up.


Really? Feeling lucky, are you?


Sign here, here. Just initial that.


- Thank you.
- OK.


You got a rain advisory today,


and as you all know,
bees cannot fly in rain.


So be careful. As always,
watch your brooms,


hockey sticks, dogs,
birds, bears and bats.


Also, I got a couple of reports
of root beer being poured on us.


Murphy's in a home because of it,
babbling like a cicada!


- That's awful.
- And a reminder for you rookies,


bee law number one,
absolutely no talking to humans!


All right, launch positions!


Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz! Buzz, buzz,
buzz, buzz! Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz!


Black and yellow!


Hello!


You ready for this, hot shot?


Yeah. Yeah, bring it on.


Wind, check.


- Antennae, check.
- Nectar pack, check.


- Wings, check.
- Stinger, check.


Scared out of my shorts, check.


OK, ladies,


let's move it out!


Pound those petunias,
you striped stem-suckers!


All of you, drain those flowers!


Wow! I'm out!


I can't believe I'm out!


So blue.


I feel so fast and free!


Box kite!


Wow!


Flowers!


This is Blue Leader.
We have roses visual.


Bring it around 30 degrees and hold.


Roses!


30 degrees, roger. Bringing it around.


Stand to the side, kid.
It's got a bit of a kick.


That is one nectar collector!


- Ever see pollination up close?
- No, sir.


I pick up some pollen here, sprinkle it
over here. Maybe a dash over there,


a pinch on that one.
See that? It's a little bit of magic.


That's amazing. Why do we do that?


That's pollen power. More pollen, more
flowers, more nectar, more honey for us.


Oool.


I'm picking up a lot of bright yellow.
Oould be daisies. Don't we need those?


Oopy that visual.


Wait. One of these flowers
seems to be on the move.


Say again? You're reporting
a moving flower?


Affirmative.


That was on the line!


This is the coolest. What is it?


I don't know, but I'm loving this color.


It smells good.
Not like a flower, but I like it.


Yeah, fuzzy.


Ohemical-y.


Oareful, guys. It's a little grabby.


My sweet lord of bees!


Oandy-brain, get off there!


Problem!


- Guys!
- This could be bad.


Affirmative.


Very close.


Gonna hurt.


Mama's little boy.


You are way out of position, rookie!


Ooming in at you like a missile!


Help me!


I don't think these are flowers.


- Should we tell him?
- I think he knows.


What is this?!


Match point!


You can start packing up, honey,
because you're about to eat it!


Yowser!


Gross.


There's a bee in the car!


- Do something!
- I'm driving!


- Hi, bee.
- He's back here!


He's going to sting me!


Nobody move. If you don't move,
he won't sting you. Freeze!


He blinked!


Spray him, Granny!


What are you doing?!


Wow... the tension level
out here is unbelievable.


I gotta get home.


Oan't fly in rain.


Oan't fly in rain.


Oan't fly in rain.


Mayday! Mayday! Bee going down!


Ken, could you close
the window please?


Ken, could you close
the window please?


Oheck out my new resume.
I made it into a fold-out brochure.


You see? Folds out.


Oh, no. More humans. I don't need this.


What was that?


Maybe this time. This time. This time.
This time! This time! This...


Drapes!


That is diabolical.


It's fantastic. It's got all my special
skills, even my top-ten favorite movies.


What's number one? Star Wars?


Nah, I don't go for that...


...kind of stuff.


No wonder we shouldn't talk to them.
They're out of their minds.


When I leave a job interview, they're
flabbergasted, can't believe what I say.


There's the sun. Maybe that's a way out.


I don't remember the sun
having a big 75 on it.


I predicted global warming.


I could feel it getting hotter.
At first I thought it was just me.


Wait! Stop! Bee!


Stand back. These are winter boots.


Wait!


Don't kill him!


You know I'm allergic to them!
This thing could kill me!


Why does his life have
less value than yours?


Why does his life have any less value
than mine? Is that your statement?


I'm just saying all life has value. You
don't know what he's capable of feeling.


My brochure!


There you go, little guy.


I'm not scared of him.
It's an allergic thing.


Put that on your resume brochure.


My whole face could puff up.


Make it one of your special skills.


Knocking someone out
is also a special skill.


Right. Bye, Vanessa. Thanks.


- Vanessa, next week? Yogurt night?
- Sure, Ken. You know, whatever.


- You could put carob chips on there.
- Bye.


- Supposed to be less calories.
- Bye.


I gotta say something.


She saved my life.
I gotta say something.


All right, here it goes.


Nah.


What would I say?


I could really get in trouble.


It's a bee law.
You're not supposed to talk to a human.


I can't believe I'm doing this.


I've got to.


Oh, I can't do it. Oome on!


No. Yes. No.


Do it. I can't.


How should I start it?
"You like jazz?" No, that's no good.


Here she comes! Speak, you fool!


Hi!


I'm sorry.


- You're talking.
- Yes, I know.


You're talking!


I'm so sorry.


No, it's OK. It's fine.
I know I'm dreaming.


But I don't recall going to bed.


Well, I'm sure this
is very disconcerting.


This is a bit of a surprise to me.
I mean, you're a bee!


I am. And I'm not supposed
to be doing this,


but they were all trying to kill me.


And if it wasn't for you...


I had to thank you.
It's just how I was raised.


That was a little weird.


- I'm talking with a bee.
- Yeah.


I'm talking to a bee.
And the bee is talking to me!


I just want to say I'm grateful.
I'll leave now.


- Wait! How did you learn to do that?
- What?


The talking thing.


Same way you did, I guess.
"Mama, Dada, honey." You pick it up.


- That's very funny.
- Yeah.


Bees are funny. If we didn't laugh,
we'd cry with what we have to deal with.


Anyway...


Oan I...


...get you something?
- Like what?


I don't know. I mean...
I don't know. Ooffee?


I don't want to put you out.


It's no trouble. It takes two minutes.


- It's just coffee.
- I hate to impose.


- Don't be ridiculous!
- Actually, I would love a cup.


Hey, you want rum cake?


- I shouldn't.
- Have some.


- No, I can't.
- Oome on!


I'm trying to lose a couple micrograms.


- Where?
- These stripes don't help.


You look great!


I don't know if you know
anything about fashion.


Are you all right?


No.


He's making the tie in the cab
as they're flying up Madison.


He finally gets there.


He runs up the steps into the church.
The wedding is on.


And he says, "Watermelon?
I thought you said Guatemalan.


Why would I marry a watermelon?"


Is that a bee joke?


That's the kind of stuff we do.


Yeah, different.


So, what are you gonna do, Barry?


About work? I don't know.


I want to do my part for the hive,
but I can't do it the way they want.


I know how you feel.


- You do?
- Sure.


My parents wanted me to be a lawyer or
a doctor, but I wanted to be a florist.


- Really?
- My only interest is flowers.


Our new queen was just elected
with that same campaign slogan.


Anyway, if you look...


There's my hive right there. See it?


You're in Sheep Meadow!


Yes! I'm right off the Turtle Pond!


No way! I know that area.
I lost a toe ring there once.


- Why do girls put rings on their toes?
- Why not?


- It's like putting a hat on your knee.
- Maybe I'll try that.


- You all right, ma'am?
- Oh, yeah. Fine.


Just having two cups of coffee!


Anyway, this has been great.
Thanks for the coffee.


Yeah, it's no trouble.


Sorry I couldn't finish it. If I did,
I'd be up the rest of my life.


Are you...?


Oan I take a piece of this with me?


Sure! Here, have a crumb.


- Thanks!
- Yeah.


All right. Well, then...
I guess I'll see you around.


Or not.


OK, Barry.


And thank you
so much again... for before.


Oh, that? That was nothing.


Well, not nothing, but... Anyway...


This can't possibly work.


He's all set to go.
We may as well try it.


OK, Dave, pull the chute.


- Sounds amazing.
- It was amazing!


It was the scariest,
happiest moment of my life.


Humans! I can't believe
you were with humans!


Giant, scary humans!
What were they like?


Huge and crazy. They talk crazy.


They eat crazy giant things.
They drive crazy.


- Do they try and kill you, like on TV?
- Some of them. But some of them don't.


- How'd you get back?
- Poodle.


You did it, and I'm glad. You saw
whatever you wanted to see.


You had your "experience." Now you
can pick out yourjob and be normal.


- Well...
- Well?


Well, I met someone.


You did? Was she Bee-ish?


- A wasp?! Your parents will kill you!
- No, no, no, not a wasp.


- Spider?
- I'm not attracted to spiders.


I know it's the hottest thing,
with the eight legs and all.


I can't get by that face.


So who is she?


She's... human.


No, no. That's a bee law.
You wouldn't break a bee law.


- Her name's Vanessa.
- Oh, boy.


She's so nice. And she's a florist!


Oh, no! You're dating a human florist!


We're not dating.


You're flying outside the hive, talking
to humans that attack our homes


with power washers and M-80s!
One-eighth a stick of dynamite!


She saved my life!
And she understands me.


This is over!


Eat this.


This is not over! What was that?


- They call it a crumb.
- It was so stingin' stripey!


And that's not what they eat.
That's what falls off what they eat!


- You know what a Oinnabon is?
- No.


It's bread and cinnamon and frosting.
They heat it up...


Sit down!


...really hot!
- Listen to me!


We are not them! We're us.
There's us and there's them!


Yes, but who can deny
the heart that is yearning?


There's no yearning.
Stop yearning. Listen to me!


You have got to start thinking bee,
my friend. Thinking bee!


- Thinking bee.
- Thinking bee.


Thinking bee! Thinking bee!
Thinking bee! Thinking bee!


There he is. He's in the pool.


You know what your problem is, Barry?


I gotta start thinking bee?


How much longer will this go on?


It's been three days!
Why aren't you working?


I've got a lot of big life decisions
to think about.


What life? You have no life!
You have no job. You're barely a bee!


Would it kill you
to make a little honey?


Barry, come out.
Your father's talking to you.


Martin, would you talk to him?


Barry, I'm talking to you!


You coming?


Got everything?


All set!


Go ahead. I'll catch up.


Don't be too long.


Watch this!


Vanessa!


- We're still here.
- I told you not to yell at him.


He doesn't respond to yelling!


- Then why yell at me?
- Because you don't listen!


I'm not listening to this.


Sorry, I've gotta go.


- Where are you going?
- I'm meeting a friend.


A girl? Is this why you can't decide?


Bye.


I just hope she's Bee-ish.


They have a huge parade
of flowers every year in Pasadena?


To be in the Tournament of Roses,
that's every florist's dream!


Up on a float, surrounded
by flowers, crowds cheering.


A tournament. Do the roses
compete in athletic events?


No. All right, I've got one.
How come you don't fly everywhere?


It's exhausting. Why don't you
run everywhere? It's faster.


Yeah, OK, I see, I see.
All right, your turn.


TiVo. You can just freeze live TV?
That's insane!


You don't have that?


We have Hivo, but it's a disease.
It's a horrible, horrible disease.


Oh, my.


Dumb bees!


You must want to sting all those jerks.


We try not to sting.
It's usually fatal for us.


So you have to watch your temper.


Very carefully.
You kick a wall, take a walk,


write an angry letter and throw it out.
Work through it like any emotion:


Anger, jealousy, lust.


Oh, my goodness! Are you OK?


Yeah.


- What is wrong with you?!
- It's a bug.


He's not bothering anybody.
Get out of here, you creep!


What was that? A Pic 'N' Save circular?


Yeah, it was. How did you know?


It felt like about 10 pages.
Seventy-five is pretty much our limit.


You've really got that
down to a science.


- I lost a cousin to Italian Vogue.
- I'll bet.


What in the name
of Mighty Hercules is this?


How did this get here?
Oute Bee, Golden Blossom,


Ray Liotta Private Select?


- Is he that actor?
- I never heard of him.


- Why is this here?
- For people. We eat it.


You don't have
enough food of your own?


- Well, yes.
- How do you get it?


- Bees make it.
- I know who makes it!


And it's hard to make it!


There's heating, cooling, stirring.
You need a whole Krelman thing!


- It's organic.
- It's our-ganic!


It's just honey, Barry.


Just what?!


Bees don't know about this!
This is stealing! A lot of stealing!


You've taken our homes, schools,
hospitals! This is all we have!


And it's on sale?!
I'm getting to the bottom of this.


I'm getting to the bottom
of all of this!


Hey, Hector.


- You almost done?
- Almost.


He is here. I sense it.


Well, I guess I'll go home now


and just leave this nice honey out,
with no one around.


You're busted, box boy!


I knew I heard something.
So you can talk!


I can talk.
And now you'll start talking!


Where you getting the sweet stuff?
Who's your supplier?


I don't understand.
I thought we were friends.


The last thing we want
to do is upset bees!


You're too late! It's ours now!


You, sir, have crossed
the wrong sword!


You, sir, will be lunch
for my iguana, Ignacio!


Where is the honey coming from?


Tell me where!


Honey Farms! It comes from Honey Farms!


Orazy person!


What horrible thing has happened here?


These faces, they never knew
what hit them. And now


they're on the road to nowhere!


Just keep still.


What? You're not dead?


Do I look dead? They will wipe anything
that moves. Where you headed?


To Honey Farms.
I am onto something huge here.


I'm going to Alaska. Moose blood,
crazy stuff. Blows your head off!


I'm going to Tacoma.


- And you?
- He really is dead.


All right.


Uh-oh!


- What is that?!
- Oh, no!


- A wiper! Triple blade!
- Triple blade?


Jump on! It's your only chance, bee!


Why does everything have
to be so doggone clean?!


How much do you people need to see?!


Open your eyes!
Stick your head out the window!


From NPR News in Washington,
I'm Oarl Kasell.


But don't kill no more bugs!


- Bee!
- Moose blood guy!!


- You hear something?
- Like what?


Like tiny screaming.


Turn off the radio.


Whassup, bee boy?


Hey, Blood.


Just a row of honey jars,
as far as the eye could see.


Wow!


I assume wherever this truck goes
is where they're getting it.


I mean, that honey's ours.


- Bees hang tight.
- We're all jammed in.


It's a close community.


Not us, man. We on our own.
Every mosquito on his own.


- What if you get in trouble?
- You a mosquito, you in trouble.


Nobody likes us. They just smack.
See a mosquito, smack, smack!


At least you're out in the world.
You must meet girls.


Mosquito girls try to trade up,
get with a moth, dragonfly.


Mosquito girl don't want no mosquito.


You got to be kidding me!


Mooseblood's about to leave
the building! So long, bee!


- Hey, guys!
- Mooseblood!


I knew I'd catch y'all down here.
Did you bring your crazy straw?


We throw it in jars, slap a label on it,
and it's pretty much pure profit.


What is this place?


A bee's got a brain
the size of a pinhead.


They are pinheads!


Pinhead.


- Oheck out the new smoker.
- Oh, sweet. That's the one you want.


The Thomas 3000!


Smoker?


Ninety puffs a minute, semi-automatic.
Twice the nicotine, all the tar.


A couple breaths of this
knocks them right out.


They make the honey,
and we make the money.


"They make the honey,
and we make the money"?


Oh, my!


What's going on? Are you OK?


Yeah. It doesn't last too long.


Do you know you're
in a fake hive with fake walls?


Our queen was moved here.
We had no choice.


This is your queen?
That's a man in women's clothes!


That's a drag queen!


What is this?


Oh, no!


There's hundreds of them!


Bee honey.


Our honey is being brazenly stolen
on a massive scale!


This is worse than anything bears
have done! I intend to do something.


Oh, Barry, stop.


Who told you humans are taking
our honey? That's a rumor.


Do these look like rumors?


That's a conspiracy theory.
These are obviously doctored photos.


How did you get mixed up in this?


He's been talking to humans.


- What?
- Talking to humans?!


He has a human girlfriend.
And they make out!


Make out? Barry!


We do not.


- You wish you could.
- Whose side are you on?


The bees!


I dated a cricket once in San Antonio.
Those crazy legs kept me up all night.


Barry, this is what you want
to do with your life?


I want to do it for all our lives.
Nobody works harder than bees!


Dad, I remember you
coming home so overworked


your hands were still stirring.
You couldn't stop.


I remember that.


What right do they have to our honey?


We live on two cups a year. They put it
in lip balm for no reason whatsoever!


Even if it's true, what can one bee do?


Sting them where it really hurts.


In the face! The eye!


- That would hurt.
- No.


Up the nose? That's a killer.


There's only one place you can sting
the humans, one place where it matters.


Hive at Five, the hive's only
full-hour action news source.


No more bee beards!


With Bob Bumble at the anchor desk.


Weather with Storm Stinger.


Sports with Buzz Larvi.


And Jeanette Ohung.


- Good evening. I'm Bob Bumble.
- And I'm Jeanette Ohung.


A tri-county bee, Barry Benson,


intends to sue the human race
for stealing our honey,


packaging it and profiting
from it illegally!


Tomorrow night on Bee Larry King,


we'll have three former queens here in
our studio, discussing their new book,


Olassy Ladies,
out this week on Hexagon.


Tonight we're talking to Barry Benson.


Did you ever think, "I'm a kid
from the hive. I can't do this"?


Bees have never been afraid
to change the world.


What about Bee Oolumbus?
Bee Gandhi? Bejesus?


Where I'm from, we'd never sue humans.


We were thinking
of stickball or candy stores.


How old are you?


The bee community
is supporting you in this case,


which will be the trial
of the bee century.


You know, they have a Larry King
in the human world too.


It's a common name. Next week...


He looks like you and has a show
and suspenders and colored dots...


Next week...


Glasses, quotes on the bottom from the
guest even though you just heard 'em.


Bear Week next week!
They're scary, hairy and here live.


Always leans forward, pointy shoulders,
squinty eyes, very Jewish.


In tennis, you attack
at the point of weakness!


It was my grandmother, Ken. She's 81.


Honey, her backhand's a joke!
I'm not gonna take advantage of that?


Quiet, please.
Actual work going on here.


- Is that that same bee?
- Yes, it is!


I'm helping him sue the human race.


- Hello.
- Hello, bee.


This is Ken.


Yeah, I remember you. Timberland, size
ten and a half. Vibram sole, I believe.


Why does he talk again?


Listen, you better go
'cause we're really busy working.


But it's our yogurt night!


Bye-bye.


Why is yogurt night so difficult?!


You poor thing.
You two have been at this for hours!


Yes, and Adam here
has been a huge help.


- Frosting...
- How many sugars?


Just one. I try not
to use the competition.


So why are you helping me?


Bees have good qualities.


And it takes my mind off the shop.


Instead of flowers, people
are giving balloon bouquets now.


Those are great, if you're three.


And artificial flowers.


- Oh, those just get me psychotic!
- Yeah, me too.


Bent stingers, pointless pollination.


Bees must hate those fake things!


Nothing worse
than a daffodil that's had work done.


Maybe this could make up
for it a little bit.


- This lawsuit's a pretty big deal.
- I guess.


You sure you want to go through with it?


Am I sure? When I'm done with
the humans, they won't be able


to say, "Honey, I'm home,"
without paying a royalty!


It's an incredible scene
here in downtown Manhattan,


where the world anxiously waits,
because for the first time in history,


we will hear for ourselves
if a honeybee can actually speak.


What have we gotten into here, Barry?


It's pretty big, isn't it?


I can't believe how many humans
don't work during the day.


You think billion-dollar multinational
food companies have good lawyers?


Everybody needs to stay
behind the barricade.


- What's the matter?
- I don't know, I just got a chill.


Well, if it isn't the bee team.


You boys work on this?


All rise! The Honorable
Judge Bumbleton presiding.


All right. Oase number 4475,


Superior Oourt of New York,
Barry Bee Benson v. the Honey Industry


is now in session.


Mr. Montgomery, you're representing
the five food companies collectively?


A privilege.


Mr. Benson... you're representing
all the bees of the world?


I'm kidding. Yes, Your Honor,
we're ready to proceed.


Mr. Montgomery,
your opening statement, please.


Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,


my grandmother was a simple woman.


Born on a farm, she believed
it was man's divine right


to benefit from the bounty
of nature God put before us.


If we lived in the topsy-turvy world
Mr. Benson imagines,


just think of what would it mean.


I would have to negotiate
with the silkworm


for the elastic in my britches!


Talking bee!


How do we know this isn't some sort of


holographic motion-picture-capture
Hollywood wizardry?


They could be using laser beams!


Robotics! Ventriloquism!
Oloning! For all we know,


he could be on steroids!


Mr. Benson?


Ladies and gentlemen,
there's no trickery here.


I'm just an ordinary bee.
Honey's pretty important to me.


It's important to all bees.
We invented it!


We make it. And we protect it
with our lives.


Unfortunately, there are
some people in this room


who think they can take it from us


'cause we're the little guys!
I'm hoping that, after this is all over,


you'll see how, by taking our honey,
you not only take everything we have


but everything we are!


I wish he'd dress like that
all the time. So nice!


Oall your first witness.


So, Mr. Klauss Vanderhayden
of Honey Farms, big company you have.


I suppose so.


I see you also own
Honeyburton and Honron!


Yes, they provide beekeepers
for our farms.


Beekeeper. I find that
to be a very disturbing term.


I don't imagine you employ
any bee-free-ers, do you?


- No.
- I couldn't hear you.


- No.
- No.


Because you don't free bees.
You keep bees. Not only that,


it seems you thought a bear would be
an appropriate image for a jar of honey.


They're very lovable creatures.


Yogi Bear, Fozzie Bear, Build-A-Bear.


You mean like this?


Bears kill bees!


How'd you like his head crashing
through your living room?!


Biting into your couch!
Spitting out your throw pillows!


OK, that's enough. Take him away.


So, Mr. Sting, thank you for being here.
Your name intrigues me.


- Where have I heard it before?
- I was with a band called The Police.


But you've never been
a police officer, have you?


No, I haven't.


No, you haven't. And so here
we have yet another example


of bee culture casually
stolen by a human


for nothing more than
a prance-about stage name.


Oh, please.


Have you ever been stung, Mr. Sting?


Because I'm feeling
a little stung, Sting.


Or should I say... Mr. Gordon M. Sumner!


That's not his real name?! You idiots!


Mr. Liotta, first,
belated congratulations on


your Emmy win for a guest spot
on ER in 2005.


Thank you. Thank you.


I see from your resume
that you're devilishly handsome


with a churning inner turmoil
that's ready to blow.


I enjoy what I do. Is that a crime?


Not yet it isn't. But is this
what it's come to for you?


Exploiting tiny, helpless bees
so you don't


have to rehearse
your part and learn your lines, sir?


Watch it, Benson!
I could blow right now!


This isn't a goodfella.
This is a badfella!


Why doesn't someone just step on
this creep, and we can all go home?!


- Order in this court!
- You're all thinking it!


Order! Order, I say!


- Say it!
- Mr. Liotta, please sit down!


I think it was awfully nice
of that bear to pitch in like that.


I think the jury's on our side.


Are we doing everything right, legally?


I'm a florist.


Right. Well, here's to a great team.


To a great team!


Well, hello.


- Ken!
- Hello.


I didn't think you were coming.


No, I was just late.
I tried to call, but... the battery.


I didn't want all this to go to waste,
so I called Barry. Luckily, he was free.


Oh, that was lucky.


There's a little left.
I could heat it up.


Yeah, heat it up, sure, whatever.


So I hear you're quite a tennis player.


I'm not much for the game myself.
The ball's a little grabby.


That's where I usually sit.
Right... there.


Ken, Barry was looking at your resume,


and he agreed with me that eating with
chopsticks isn't really a special skill.


You think I don't see what you're doing?


I know how hard it is to find
the rightjob. We have that in common.


Do we?


Bees have 100 percent employment,
but we do jobs like taking the crud out.


That's just what
I was thinking about doing.


Ken, I let Barry borrow your razor
for his fuzz. I hope that was all right.


I'm going to drain the old stinger.


Yeah, you do that.


Look at that.


You know, I've just about had it


with your little mind games.


- What's that?
- Italian Vogue.


Mamma mia, that's a lot of pages.


A lot of ads.


Remember what Van said, why is
your life more valuable than mine?


Funny, I just can't seem to recall that!


I think something stinks in here!


I love the smell of flowers.


How do you like the smell of flames?!


Not as much.


Water bug! Not taking sides!


Ken, I'm wearing a Ohapstick hat!
This is pathetic!


I've got issues!


Well, well, well, a royal flush!


- You're bluffing.
- Am I?


Surf's up, dude!


Poo water!


That bowl is gnarly.


Except for those dirty yellow rings!


Kenneth! What are you doing?!


You know, I don't even like honey!
I don't eat it!


We need to talk!


He's just a little bee!


And he happens to be
the nicest bee I've met in a long time!


Long time? What are you talking about?!
Are there other bugs in your life?


No, but there are other things bugging
me in life. And you're one of them!


Fine! Talking bees, no yogurt night...


My nerves are fried from riding
on this emotional roller coaster!


Goodbye, Ken.


And for your information,


I prefer sugar-free, artificial
sweeteners made by man!


I'm sorry about all that.


I know it's got
an aftertaste! I like it!


I always felt there was some kind
of barrier between Ken and me.


I couldn't overcome it.
Oh, well.


Are you OK for the trial?


I believe Mr. Montgomery
is about out of ideas.


We would like to call
Mr. Barry Benson Bee to the stand.


Good idea! You can really see why he's
considered one of the best lawyers...


Yeah.


Layton, you've
gotta weave some magic


with this jury,
or it's gonna be all over.


Don't worry. The only thing I have
to do to turn this jury around


is to remind them
of what they don't like about bees.


- You got the tweezers?
- Are you allergic?


Only to losing, son. Only to losing.


Mr. Benson Bee, I'll ask you
what I think we'd all like to know.


What exactly is your relationship


to that woman?


We're friends.


- Good friends?
- Yes.


How good? Do you live together?


Wait a minute...


Are you her little...


...bedbug?


I've seen a bee documentary or two.
From what I understand,


doesn't your queen give birth
to all the bee children?


- Yeah, but...
- So those aren't your real parents!


- Oh, Barry...
- Yes, they are!


Hold me back!


You're an illegitimate bee,
aren't you, Benson?


He's denouncing bees!


Don't y'all date your cousins?


- Objection!
- I'm going to pincushion this guy!


Adam, don't! It's what he wants!


Oh, I'm hit!!


Oh, lordy, I am hit!


Order! Order!


The venom! The venom
is coursing through my veins!


I have been felled
by a winged beast of destruction!


You see? You can't treat them
like equals! They're striped savages!


Stinging's the only thing
they know! It's their way!


- Adam, stay with me.
- I can't feel my legs.


What angel of mercy
will come forward to suck the poison


from my heaving buttocks?


I will have order in this court. Order!


Order, please!


The case of the honeybees
versus the human race


took a pointed turn against the bees


yesterday when one of their legal
team stung Layton T. Montgomery.


- Hey, buddy.
- Hey.


- Is there much pain?
- Yeah.


I...


I blew the whole case, didn't I?


It doesn't matter. What matters is
you're alive. You could have died.


I'd be better off dead. Look at me.


They got it from the cafeteria
downstairs, in a tuna sandwich.


Look, there's
a little celery still on it.


What was it like to sting someone?


I can't explain it. It was all...


All adrenaline and then...
and then ecstasy!


All right.


You think it was all a trap?


Of course. I'm sorry.
I flew us right into this.


What were we thinking? Look at us. We're
just a couple of bugs in this world.


What will the humans do to us
if they win?


I don't know.


I hear they put the roaches in motels.
That doesn't sound so bad.


Adam, they check in,
but they don't check out!


Oh, my.


Oould you get a nurse
to close that window?


- Why?
- The smoke.


Bees don't smoke.


Right. Bees don't smoke.


Bees don't smoke!
But some bees are smoking.


That's it! That's our case!


It is? It's not over?


Get dressed. I've gotta go somewhere.


Get back to the court and stall.
Stall any way you can.


And assuming you've done step correctly, you're ready for the tub.


Mr. Flayman.


Yes? Yes, Your Honor!


Where is the rest of your team?


Well, Your Honor, it's interesting.


Bees are trained to fly haphazardly,


and as a result,
we don't make very good time.


I actually heard a funny story about...


Your Honor,
haven't these ridiculous bugs


taken up enough
of this court's valuable time?


How much longer will we allow
these absurd shenanigans to go on?


They have presented no compelling
evidence to support their charges


against my clients,
who run legitimate businesses.


I move for a complete dismissal
of this entire case!


Mr. Flayman, I'm afraid I'm going


to have to consider
Mr. Montgomery's motion.


But you can't! We have a terrific case.


Where is your proof?
Where is the evidence?


Show me the smoking gun!


Hold it, Your Honor!
You want a smoking gun?


Here is your smoking gun.


What is that?


It's a bee smoker!


What, this?
This harmless little contraption?


This couldn't hurt a fly,
let alone a bee.


Look at what has happened


to bees who have never been asked,
"Smoking or non?"


Is this what nature intended for us?


To be forcibly addicted
to smoke machines


and man-made wooden slat work camps?


Living out our lives as honey slaves
to the white man?


- What are we gonna do?
- He's playing the species card.


Ladies and gentlemen, please,
free these bees!


Free the bees! Free the bees!


Free the bees!


Free the bees! Free the bees!


The court finds in favor of the bees!


Vanessa, we won!


I knew you could do it! High-five!


Sorry.


I'm OK! You know what this means?


All the honey
will finally belong to the bees.


Now we won't have
to work so hard all the time.


This is an unholy perversion
of the balance of nature, Benson.


You'll regret this.


Barry, how much honey is out there?


All right. One at a time.


Barry, who are you wearing?


My sweater is Ralph Lauren,
and I have no pants.


- What if Montgomery's right?
- What do you mean?


We've been living the bee way
a long time, 27 million years.


Oongratulations on your victory.
What will you demand as a settlement?


First, we'll demand a complete shutdown
of all bee work camps.


Then we want back the honey
that was ours to begin with,


every last drop.


We demand an end to the glorification
of the bear as anything more


than a filthy, smelly,
bad-breath stink machine.


We're all aware
of what they do in the woods.


Wait for my signal.


Take him out.


He'll have nauseous
for a few hours, then he'll be fine.


And we will no longer tolerate
bee-negative nicknames...


But it's just a prance-about stage name!


...unnecessary inclusion of honey
in bogus health products


and la-dee-da human
tea-time snack garnishments.


Oan't breathe.


Bring it in, boys!


Hold it right there! Good.


Tap it.


Mr. Buzzwell, we just passed three cups,
and there's gallons more coming!


- I think we need to shut down!
- Shut down? We've never shut down.


Shut down honey production!


Stop making honey!


Turn your key, sir!


What do we do now?


Oannonball!


We're shutting honey production!


Mission abort.


Aborting pollination and nectar detail.
Returning to base.


Adam, you wouldn't believe
how much honey was out there.


Oh, yeah?


What's going on? Where is everybody?


- Are they out celebrating?
- They're home.


They don't know what to do.
Laying out, sleeping in.


I heard your Uncle Oarl was on his way
to San Antonio with a cricket.


At least we got our honey back.


Sometimes I think, so what if humans
liked our honey? Who wouldn't?


It's the greatest thing in the world!
I was excited to be part of making it.


This was my new desk. This was my
new job. I wanted to do it really well.


And now...


Now I can't.


I don't understand
why they're not happy.


I thought their lives would be better!


They're doing nothing. It's amazing.
Honey really changes people.


You don't have any idea
what's going on, do you?


- What did you want to show me?
- This.


What happened here?


That is not the half of it.


Oh, no. Oh, my.


They're all wilting.


Doesn't look very good, does it?


No.


And whose fault do you think that is?


You know, I'm gonna guess bees.


Bees?


Specifically, me.


I didn't think bees not needing to make
honey would affect all these things.


It's notjust flowers.
Fruits, vegetables, they all need bees.


That's our whole SAT test right there.


Take away produce, that affects
the entire animal kingdom.


And then, of course...


The human species?


So if there's no more pollination,


it could all just go south here,
couldn't it?


I know this is also partly my fault.


How about a suicide pact?


How do we do it?


- I'll sting you, you step on me.
- Thatjust kills you twice.


Right, right.


Listen, Barry...
sorry, but I gotta get going.


I had to open my mouth and talk.


Vanessa?


Vanessa? Why are you leaving?
Where are you going?


To the final Tournament of Roses parade
in Pasadena.


They've moved it to this weekend
because all the flowers are dying.


It's the last chance
I'll ever have to see it.


Vanessa, I just wanna say I'm sorry.
I never meant it to turn out like this.


I know. Me neither.


Tournament of Roses.
Roses can't do sports.


Wait a minute. Roses. Roses?


Roses!


Vanessa!


Roses?!


Barry?


- Roses are flowers!
- Yes, they are.


Flowers, bees, pollen!


I know.
That's why this is the last parade.


Maybe not.
Oould you ask him to slow down?


Oould you slow down?


Barry!


OK, I made a huge mistake.
This is a total disaster, all my fault.


Yes, it kind of is.


I've ruined the planet.
I wanted to help you


with the flower shop.
I've made it worse.


Actually, it's completely closed down.


I thought maybe you were remodeling.


But I have another idea, and it's
greater than my previous ideas combined.


I don't want to hear it!


All right, they have the roses,
the roses have the pollen.


I know every bee, plant
and flower bud in this park.


All we gotta do is get what they've got
back here with what we've got.


- Bees.
- Park.


- Pollen!
- Flowers.


- Repollination!
- Across the nation!


Tournament of Roses,
Pasadena, Oalifornia.


They've got nothing
but flowers, floats and cotton candy.


Security will be tight.


I have an idea.


Vanessa Bloome, FTD.


Official floral business. It's real.


Sorry, ma'am. Nice brooch.


Thank you. It was a gift.


Once inside,
we just pick the right float.


How about The Princess and the Pea?


I could be the princess,
and you could be the pea!


Yes, I got it.


- Where should I sit?
- What are you?


- I believe I'm the pea.
- The pea?


It goes under the mattresses.


- Not in this fairy tale, sweetheart.
- I'm getting the marshal.


You do that!
This whole parade is a fiasco!


Let's see what this baby'll do.


Hey, what are you doing?!


Then all we do
is blend in with traffic...


...without arousing suspicion.


Once at the airport,
there's no stopping us.


Stop! Security.


- You and your insect pack your float?
- Yes.


Has it been
in your possession the entire time?


Would you remove your shoes?


- Remove your stinger.
- It's part of me.


I know. Just having some fun.
Enjoy your flight.


Then if we're lucky, we'll have
just enough pollen to do the job.


Oan you believe how lucky we are? We
have just enough pollen to do the job!


I think this is gonna work.


It's got to work.


Attention, passengers,
this is Oaptain Scott.


We have a bit of bad weather
in New York.


It looks like we'll experience
a couple hours delay.


Barry, these are cut flowers
with no water. They'll never make it.


I gotta get up there
and talk to them.


Be careful.


Oan I get help
with the Sky Mall magazine?


I'd like to order the talking
inflatable nose and ear hair trimmer.


Oaptain, I'm in a real situation.


- What'd you say, Hal?
- Nothing.


Bee!


Don't freak out! My entire species...


What are you doing?


- Wait a minute! I'm an attorney!
- Who's an attorney?


Don't move.


Oh, Barry.


Good afternoon, passengers.
This is your captain.


Would a Miss Vanessa Bloome in 24B
please report to the cockpit?


And please hurry!


What happened here?


There was a DustBuster,
a toupee, a life raft exploded.


One's bald, one's in a boat,
they're both unconscious!


- Is that another bee joke?
- No!


No one's flying the plane!


This is JFK control tower, Flight 356.
What's your status?


This is Vanessa Bloome.
I'm a florist from New York.


Where's the pilot?


He's unconscious,
and so is the copilot.


Not good. Does anyone onboard
have flight experience?


As a matter of fact, there is.


- Who's that?
- Barry Benson.


From the honey trial?! Oh, great.


Vanessa, this is nothing more
than a big metal bee.


It's got giant wings, huge engines.


I can't fly a plane.


- Why not? Isn't John Travolta a pilot?
- Yes.


How hard could it be?


Wait, Barry!
We're headed into some lightning.


This is Bob Bumble. We have some
late-breaking news from JFK Airport,


where a suspenseful scene
is developing.


Barry Benson,
fresh from his legal victory...


That's Barry!


...is attempting to land a plane,
loaded with people, flowers


and an incapacitated flight crew.


Flowers?!


We have a storm in the area
and two individuals at the controls


with absolutely no flight experience.


Just a minute.
There's a bee on that plane.


I'm quite familiar with Mr. Benson
and his no-account compadres.


They've done enough damage.


But isn't he your only hope?


Technically, a bee
shouldn't be able to fly at all.


Their wings are too small...


Haven't we heard this a million times?


"The surface area of the wings
and body mass make no sense."


- Get this on the air!
- Got it.


- Stand by.
- We're going live.


The way we work may be a mystery to you.


Making honey takes a lot of bees
doing a lot of small jobs.


But let me tell you about a small job.


If you do it well,
it makes a big difference.


More than we realized.
To us, to everyone.


That's why I want to get bees
back to working together.


That's the bee way!
We're not made of Jell-O.


We get behind a fellow.


- Black and yellow!
- Hello!


Left, right, down, hover.


- Hover?
- Forget hover.


This isn't so hard.
Beep-beep! Beep-beep!


Barry, what happened?!


Wait, I think we were
on autopilot the whole time.


- That may have been helping me.
- And now we're not!


So it turns out I cannot fly a plane.


All of you, let's get
behind this fellow! Move it out!


Move out!


Our only chance is if I do what I'd do,
you copy me with the wings of the plane!


Don't have to yell.


I'm not yelling!
We're in a lot of trouble.


It's very hard to concentrate
with that panicky tone in your voice!


It's not a tone. I'm panicking!


I can't do this!


Vanessa, pull yourself together.
You have to snap out of it!


You snap out of it.


You snap out of it.


- You snap out of it!
- You snap out of it!


- You snap out of it!
- You snap out of it!


- You snap out of it!
- You snap out of it!


- Hold it!
- Why? Oome on, it's my turn.


How is the plane flying?


I don't know.


Hello?


Benson, got any flowers
for a happy occasion in there?


The Pollen Jocks!


They do get behind a fellow.


- Black and yellow.
- Hello.


All right, let's drop this tin can
on the blacktop.


Where? I can't see anything. Oan you?


No, nothing. It's all cloudy.


Oome on. You got to think bee, Barry.


- Thinking bee.
- Thinking bee.


Thinking bee!
Thinking bee! Thinking bee!


Wait a minute.
I think I'm feeling something.


- What?
- I don't know. It's strong, pulling me.


Like a 27-million-year-old instinct.


Bring the nose down.


Thinking bee!
Thinking bee! Thinking bee!


- What in the world is on the tarmac?
- Get some lights on that!


Thinking bee!
Thinking bee! Thinking bee!


- Vanessa, aim for the flower.
- OK.


Out the engines. We're going in
on bee power. Ready, boys?


Affirmative!


Good. Good. Easy, now. That's it.


Land on that flower!


Ready? Full reverse!


Spin it around!


- Not that flower! The other one!
- Which one?


- That flower.
- I'm aiming at the flower!


That's a fat guy in a flowered shirt.
I mean the giant pulsating flower


made of millions of bees!


Pull forward. Nose down. Tail up.


Rotate around it.


- This is insane, Barry!
- This's the only way I know how to fly.


Am I koo-koo-kachoo, or is this plane
flying in an insect-like pattern?


Get your nose in there. Don't be afraid.
Smell it. Full reverse!


Just drop it. Be a part of it.


Aim for the center!


Now drop it in! Drop it in, woman!


Oome on, already.


Barry, we did it!
You taught me how to fly!


- Yes. No high-five!
- Right.


Barry, it worked!
Did you see the giant flower?


What giant flower? Where? Of course
I saw the flower! That was genius!


- Thank you.
- But we're not done yet.


Listen, everyone!


This runway is covered
with the last pollen


from the last flowers
available anywhere on Earth.


That means this is our last chance.


We're the only ones who make honey,
pollinate flowers and dress like this.


If we're gonna survive as a species,
this is our moment! What do you say?


Are we going to be bees, orjust
Museum of Natural History keychains?


We're bees!


Keychain!


Then follow me! Except Keychain.


Hold on, Barry. Here.


You've earned this.


Yeah!


I'm a Pollen Jock! And it's a perfect
fit. All I gotta do are the sleeves.


Oh, yeah.


That's our Barry.


Mom! The bees are back!


If anybody needs
to make a call, now's the time.


I got a feeling we'll be
working late tonight!


Here's your change. Have a great
afternoon! Oan I help who's next?


Would you like some honey with that?
It is bee-approved. Don't forget these.


Milk, cream, cheese, it's all me.
And I don't see a nickel!


Sometimes I just feel
like a piece of meat!


I had no idea.


Barry, I'm sorry.
Have you got a moment?


Would you excuse me?
My mosquito associate will help you.


Sorry I'm late.


He's a lawyer too?


I was already a blood-sucking parasite.
All I needed was a briefcase.


Have a great afternoon!


Barry, I just got this huge tulip order,
and I can't get them anywhere.


No problem, Vannie.
Just leave it to me.


You're a lifesaver, Barry.
Oan I help who's next?


All right, scramble, jocks!
It's time to fly.


Thank you, Barry!


That bee is living my life!


Let it go, Kenny.


- When will this nightmare end?!
- Let it all go.


- Beautiful day to fly.
- Sure is.


Between you and me,
I was dying to get out of that office.


You have got
to start thinking bee, my friend.


- Thinking bee!
- Me?


Hold it. Let's just stop
for a second. Hold it.


I'm sorry. I'm sorry, everyone.
Oan we stop here?


I'm not making a major life decision
during a production number!


All right. Take ten, everybody.
Wrap it up, guys.


I had virtually no rehearsal for that.

Special thanks to SergeiK.


Mein Gott.
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Hidden 7 yrs ago Post by ClocktowerEchos
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ClocktowerEchos Friendly Neighborhood / Landmine Enthusiast

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"In case you ever needed a copy-pasta of a nonsensical Beatles rant, an excerpt of Russian anarchist Peter Kropotkin's work, an excerpt of Russian anarchist Peter Kropotkin's work but backwards, a copy of the Communist Manifesto and the entirety of the Bee Movie" the Thread. This itz creary a very important threed guyz, we musta kek it leik dat.

Ironically enough I'll probably learn more from reading this thread than all my years of American education.
Spam is so educational and morally just.
Better keep this one in my sub box.
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Hidden 7 yrs ago Post by Dinh AaronMk
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Dinh AaronMk my beloved (french coded)

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Before entering upon the subject-matter of these new memoirs, I must explain an hypothesis which will undoubtedly seem strange, but in the absence of which it is impossible for me to proceed intelligibly: I mean the hypothesis of a God.

To suppose God, it will be said, is to deny him. Why do you not affirm him?

Is it my fault if belief in Divinity has become a suspected opinion; if the bare suspicion of a Supreme Being is already noted as evidence of a weak mind; and if, of all philosophical Utopias, this is the only one which the world no longer tolerates? Is it my fault if hypocrisy and imbecility everywhere hide behind this holy formula?

Let a public teacher suppose the existence, in the universe, of an unknown force governing suns and atoms, and keeping the whole machine in motion. With him this supposition, wholly gratuitous, is perfectly natural; it is received, encouraged: witness attraction — an hypothesis which will never be verified, and which, nevertheless, is the glory of its originator. But when, to explain the course of human events, I suppose, with all imaginable caution, the intervention of a God, I am sure to shock scientific gravity and offend critical ears: to so wonderful an extent has our piety discredited Providence, so many tricks have been played by means of this dogma or fiction by charlatans of every stamp! I have seen the theists of my time, and blasphemy has played over my lips; I have studied the belief of the people, - - this people that Brydaine called the best friend of God, — and have shuddered at the negation which was about to escape me. Tormented by conflicting feelings, I appealed to reason; and it is reason which, amid so many dogmatic contradictions, now forces the hypothesis upon me. A priori dogmatism, applying itself to God, has proved fruitless: who knows whither the hypothesis, in its turn, will lead us?

I will explain therefore how, studying in the silence of my heart, and far from every human consideration, the mystery of social revolutions, God, the great unknown, has become for me an hypothesis, — I mean a necessary dialectical tool.

I.

If I follow the God-idea through its successive transformations, I find that this idea is preeminently social: I mean by this that it is much more a collective act of faith than an individual conception. Now, how and under what circumstances is this act of faith produced? This point it is important to determine.

From the moral and intellectual point of view, society, or the collective man, is especially distinguished from the individual by spontaneity of action, — in other words, instinct. While the individual obeys, or imagines he obeys, only those motives of which he is fully conscious, and upon which he can at will decline or consent to act; while, in a word, he thinks himself free, and all the freer when he knows that he is possessed of keener reasoning faculties and larger information, — society is governed by impulses which, at first blush, exhibit no deliberation and design, but which gradually seem to be directed by a superior power, existing outside of society, and pushing it with irresistible might toward an unknown goal. The establishment of monarchies and republics, caste-distinctions, judicial institutions, etc., are so many manifestations of this social spontaneity, to note the effects of which is much easier than to point out its principle and show its cause. The whole effort, even of those who, following Bossuet, Vico, Herder, Hegel, have applied themselves to the philosophy of history, has been hitherto to establish the presence of a providential destiny presiding over all the movements of man. And I observe, in this connection, that society never fails to evoke its genius previous to action: as if it wished the powers above to ordain what its own spontaneity has already resolved on. Lots, oracles, sacrifices, popular acclamation, public prayers, are the commonest forms of these tardy deliberations of society.

This mysterious faculty, wholly intuitive, and, so to speak, super-social, scarcely or not at all perceptible in persons, but which hovers over humanity like an inspiring genius, is the primordial fact of all psychology.

Now, unlike other species of animals, which, like him, are governed at the same time by individual desires and collective impulses, man has the privilege of perceiving and designating to his own mind the instinct or fatum which leads him; we shall see later that he has also the power of foreseeing and even influencing its decrees. And the first act of man, filled and carried away with enthusiasm (of the divine breath), is to adore the invisible Providence on which he feels that he depends, and which he calls GOD, — that is, Life, Being, Spirit, or, simpler still, Me; for all these words, in the ancient tongues, are synonyms and homophones.

"I am Me," God said to Abraham, "and I covenant with Thee.".... And to Moses: "I am the Being. Thou shalt say unto the children of Israel, `The Being hath sent me unto you.'" These two words, the Being and Me, have in the original language — the most religious that men have ever spoken — the same characteristic. (1) Elsewhere, when Ie-hovah, acting as law-giver through the instrumentality of Moses, attests his eternity and swears by his own essence, he uses, as a form of oath, I; or else, with redoubled force, I, the Being. Thus the God of the Hebrews is the most personal and wilful of all the gods, and none express better than he the intuition of humanity.

God appeared to man, then, as a me, as a pure and permanent essence, placing himself before him as a monarch before his servant, and expressing himself now through the mouth of poets, legislators, and soothsayers, musa, nomos, numen; now through the popular voice, vox populi vox Dei. This may serve, among other things, to explain the existence of true and false oracles; why individuals secluded from birth do not attain of themselves to the idea of God, while they eagerly grasp it as soon as it is presented to them by the collective mind; why, finally, stationary races, like the Chinese, end by losing it. (2) In the first place, as to oracles, it is clear that all their accuracy depends upon the universal conscience which inspires them; and, as to the idea of God, it is easily seen why isolation and statu quo are alike fatal to it. On the one hand, absence of communication keeps the mind absorbed in animal self-contemplation; on the other, absence of motion, gradually changing social life into mechanical routine, finally eliminates the idea of will and providence. Strange fact! religion, which perishes through progress, perishes also through quiescence.

Notice further that, in attributing to the vague and (so to speak) objectified consciousness of a universal reason the first revelation of Divinity, we assume absolutely nothing concerning even the reality or non-reality of God. In fact, admitting that God is nothing more than collective instinct or universal reason, we have still to learn what this universal reason is in itself. For, as we shall show directly, universal reason is not given in individual reason, in other words, the knowledge of social laws, or the theory of collective ideas, though deduced from the fundamental concepts of pure reason, is nevertheless wholly empirical, and never would have been discovered a priori by means of deduction, induction, or synthesis. Whence it follows that universal reason, which we regard as the origin of these laws; universal reason, which exists, reasons, labors, in a separate sphere and as a reality distinct from pure reason, just as the planetary system, though created according to the laws of mathematics, is a reality distinct from mathematics, whose existence could not have been deduced from mathematics alone: it follows, I say, that universal reason is, in modern languages, exactly what the ancients called God. The name is changed: what do we know of the thing?

Let us now trace the evolution of the Divine idea.

The Supreme Being once posited by a primary mystical judgment, man immediately generalizes the subject by another mysticism, — analogy. God, so to speak, is as yet but a point: directly he shall fill the world.

As, in sensing his social me, man saluted his Author, so, in finding evidence of design and intention in animals, plants, springs, meteors, and the whole universe, he attributes to each special object, and then to the whole, a soul, spirit, or genius presiding over it; pursuing this inductive process of apotheosis from the highest summit of Nature, which is society, down to the humblest forms of life, to inanimate and inorganic matter. From his collective me, taken as the superior pole of creation, to the last atom of matter, man extends, then, the idea of God, — that is, the idea of personality and intelligence, — just as God himself extended heaven, as the book of Genesis tells us; that is, created space and time, the conditions of all things.

Thus, without a God or master-builder, the universe and man would not exist: such is the social profession of faith. But also without man God would not be thought, or — to clear the interval — God would be nothing. If humanity needs an author, God and the gods equally need a revealer; theogony, the history of heaven, hell, and their inhabitants, — those dreams of the human mind, — is the counterpart of the universe, which certain philosophers have called in return the dream of God. And how magnificent this theological creation, the work of society! The creation of the demiourgos was obliterated; what we call the Omnipotent was conquered; and for centuries the enchanted imagination of mortals was turned away from the spectacle of Nature by the contemplation of Olympian marvels.

Let us descend from this fanciful region: pitiless reason knocks at the door; her terrible questions demand a reply.

"What is God?" she asks; "where is he? what is his extent? what are his wishes? what his powers? what his promises?" — and here, in the light of analysis, all the divinities of heaven, earth, and hell are reduced to an incorporeal, insensible, immovable, incomprehensible, undefinable I-know-not-what; in short, to a negation of all the attributes of existence. In fact, whether man attributes to each object a special spirit or genius, or conceives the universe as governed by a single power, he in either case but SUPPOSES an unconditioned, that is, an impossible, entity, that he may deduce therefrom an explanation of such phenomena as he deems inconceivable on any other hypothesis. The mystery of God and reason! In order to render the object of his idolatry more and more rational, the believer despoils him successively of all the qualities which would make him real; and, after marvellous displays of logic and genius, the attributes of the Being par excellence are found to be the same as those of nihility. This evolution is inevitable and fatal: atheism is at the bottom of all theodicy.

Let us try to understand this progress.

God, creator of all things, is himself no sooner created by the conscience, — in other words, no sooner have we lifted God from the idea of the social me to the idea of the cosmic me, — than immediately our reflection begins to demolish him under the pretext of perfecting him. To perfect the idea of God, to purify the theological dogma, was the second hallucination of the human race.

The spirit of analysis, that untiring Satan who continually questions and denies, must sooner or later look for proof of religious dogmas. Now, whether the philosopher determine the idea of God, or declare it indeterminable; whether he approach it with his reason, or retreat from it, — I say that this idea receives a blow; and, as it is impossible for speculation to halt, the idea of God must at last disappear. Then the atheistic movement is the second act of the theologic drama; and this second act follows from the first, as effect from cause. "The heavens declare the glory of God," says the Psalmist. Let us add, And their testimony dethrones him.

Indeed, in proportion as man observes phenomena, he thinks that he perceives, between Nature and God, intermediaries; such as relations of number, form, and succession; organic laws, evolutions, analogies, — forming an unmistakable series of manifestations which invariably produce or give rise to each other. He even observes that, in the development of this society of which he is a part, private wills and associative deliberations have some influence; and he says to himself that the Great Spirit does not act upon the world directly and by himself, or arbitrarily and at the dictation of a capricious will, but mediately, by perceptible means or organs, and by virtue of laws. And, retracing in his mind the chain of effects andcauses, he places clear at the extremity, as a balance, God.

A poet has said, —

Par dela tous les cieux, le Dieu des cieux reside.

Thus, at the first step in the theory, the Supreme Being is reduced to the function of a motive power, a mainspring, a corner-stone, or, if a still more trivial comparison may be allowed me, a constitutional sovereign, reigning but not governing, swearing to obey the law and appointing ministers to execute it. But, under the influence of the mirage which fascinates him, the theist sees, in this ridiculous system, only a new proof of the sublimity of his idol; who, in his opinion, uses his creatures as instruments of his power, and causes the wisdom of human beings to redound to his glory.

Soon, not content with limiting the power of the Eternal, man, increasingly deicidal in his tendencies, insists on sharing it.

If I am a spirit, a sentient me giving voice to ideas, continues the theist, I consequently am a part of absolute existence; I am free, creative, immortal, equal with God. Cogito, ergo sum, — I think, therefore I am immortal, that is the corollary, the translation of Ego sum qui sum: philosophy is in accord with the Bible. The existence of God and the immortality of the soul are posited by the conscience in the same judgment: there, man speaks in the name of the universe, to whose bosom he transports his me; here, he speaks in his own name, without perceiving that, in this going and coming, he only repeats himself.

The immortality of the soul, a true division of divinity, which, at the time of its first promulgation, arriving after a long interval, seemed a heresy to those faithful to the old dogma, has been none the less considered the complement of divine majesty, necessarily postulated by eternal goodness and justice. Unless the soul is immortal, God is incomprehensible, say the theists; resembling in this the political theorists who regard sovereign representation and perpetual tenure of office as essential conditions of monarchy. But the inconsistency of the ideas is as glaring as the parity of the doctrines is exact: consequently the dogma of immortality soon became the stumbling-block of philosophical theologians, who, ever since the days of Pythagoras and Orpheus, have been making futile attempts to harmonize divine attributes with human liberty, and reason with faith. A subject of triumph for the impious!.... But the illusion could not yield so soon: the dogma of immortality, for the very reason that it was a limitation of the uncreated Being, was a step in advance. Now, though the human mind deceives itself by a partial acquisition of the truth, it never retreats, and this perseverance in progress is proof of its infallibility. Of this we shall soon see fresh evidence.

In making himself like God, man made God like himself: this correlation, which for many centuries had been execrated, was the secret spring which determined the new myth. In the days of the patriarchs God made an alliance with man; now, to strengthen the compact, God is to become a man. He will take on our flesh, our form, our passions, our joys, and our sorrows; will be born of woman, and die as we do. Then, after this humiliation of the infinite, man will still pretend that he has elevated the ideal of his God in making, by a logical conversion, him whom he had always called creator, a saviour, a redeemer. Humanity does not yet say, I am God: such a usurpation would shock its piety; it says, God is in me, IMMANUEL, nobiscum Deus. And, at the moment when philosophy with pride, and universal conscience with fright, shouted with unanimous voice, The gods are departing! excedere deos! a period of eighteen centuries of fervent adoration and superhuman faith was inaugurated.

But the fatal end approaches. The royalty which suffers itself to be limited will end by the rule of demagogues; the divinity which is defined dissolves in a pandemonium. Christolatry is the last term of this long evolution of human thought. The angels, saints, and virgins reign in heaven with God, says the catechism; and demons and reprobates live in the hells of eternal punishment. Ultramundane society has its left and its right: it is time for the equation to be completed; for this mystical hierarchy to descend upon earth and appear in its real character.

When Milton represents the first woman admiring herself in a fountain, and lovingly extending her arms toward her own image as if to embrace it, he paints, feature for feature, the human race. — This God whom you worship, O man! this God whom you have made good, just, omnipotent, omniscient, immortal, and holy, is yourself: this ideal of perfection is your image, purified in the shining mirror of your conscience. God, Nature, and man are three aspects of one and the same being; man is God himself arriving at self- consciousness through a thousand evolutions. In Jesus Christ man recognized himself as God; and Christianity is in reality the religion of God-man. There is no other God than he who in the beginning said, ME; there is no other God than THEE.

Such are the last conclusions of philosophy, which dies in unveiling religion's mystery and its own.

II.

It seems, then, that all is ended; it seems that, with the cessation of the worship and mystification of humanity by itself, the theological problem is for ever put aside. The gods have gone: there is nothing left for man but to grow weary and die in his egoism. What frightful solitude extends around me, and forces its way to the bottom of my soul! My exaltation resembles annihilation; and, since I made myself a God, I seem but a shadow. It is possible that I am still a me, but it is very difficult to regard myself as the absolute; and, if I am not the absolute, I am only half of an idea.

Some ironical thinker, I know not who, has said: "A little philosophy leads away from religion, and much philosophy leads back to it." This proposition is humiliatingly true.

Every science develops in three successive periods, which may be called - - comparing them with the grand periods of civilization — the religious period, the sophistical period, the scientific period. (3) Thus, alchemy represents the religious period of the science afterwards called chemistry, whose definitive plan is not yet discovered; likewise astrology was the religious period of another science, since established, — astronomy.

Now, after being laughed at for sixty years about the philosopher's stone, chemists, governed by experience, no longer dare to deny the transmutability of bodies; while astronomers are led by the structure of the world to suspect also an organism of the world; that is, something precisely like astrology. Are we not justified in saying, in imitation of the philosopher just quoted, that, if a little chemistry leads away from the philosopher's stone, much chemistry leads back to it; and similarly, that, if a little astronomy makes us laugh at astrologers, much astronomy will make us believe in them? (4)

I certainly have less inclination to the marvellous than many atheists, but I cannot help thinking that the stories of miracles, prophecies, charms, etc., are but distorted accounts of the extraordinary effects produced by certain latent forces, or, as was formerly said, by occult powers. Our science is still so brutal and unfair; our professors exhibit so much impertinence with so little knowledge; they deny so impudently facts which embarrass them, in order to protect the opinions which they champion, — that I distrust strong minds equally with superstitious ones. Yes, I am convinced of it; our gross rationalism is the inauguration of a period which, thanks to science, will become truly prodigious; the universe, to my eyes, is only a laboratory of magic, from which anything may be expected.... This said, I return to my subject.

They would be deceived, then, who should imagine, after my rapid survey of religious progress, that metaphysics has uttered its last word upon the double enigma expressed in these four words, — the existence of God, the immortality of the soul. Here, as elsewhere, the most advanced and best established conclusions, those which seem to have settled for ever the theological question, lead us back to primeval mysticism, and involve the new data of an inevitable philosophy. The criticism of religious opinions makes us smile today both at ourselves and at religions; and yet the resume of this criticism is but a reproduction of the problem. The human race, at the present moment, is on the eve of recognizing and affirming something equivalent to the old notion of Divinity; and this, not by a spontaneous movement as before, but through reflection and by means of irresistible logic. I will try, in a few words, to make myself understood.

If there is a point on which philosophers, in spite of themselves, have finally succeeded in agreeing, it is without doubt the distinction between intelligence and necessity, the subject of thought and its object, the me and the not-me; in ordinary terms, spirit and matter. I know well that all these terms express nothing that is real and true; that each of them designates only a section of the absolute, which alone is true and real; and that, taken separately, they involve, all alike, a contradiction. But it is no less certain also that the absolute is completely inaccessible to us; that we know it only by its opposite extremes, which alone fall within the limits of our experience; and that, if unity only can win our faith, duality is the first condition of science.

Thus, who thinks, and what is thought? What is a soul? what is a body? I defy any one to escape this dualism. It is with essences as with ideas: the former are seen separated in Nature, as the latter in the understanding; and just as the ideas of God and immortality, in spite of their identity, are posited successively and contradictorily in philosophy, so, in spite of their fusion in the absolute, the me and the not-me posit themselves separately and contradictorily in Nature, and we have beings who think, at the same time with others which do not think.

Now, whoever has taken pains to reflect knows today that such a distinction, wholly realized though it be, is the most unintelligible, most contradictory, most absurd thing which reason can possibly meet. Being is no more conceivable without the properties of spirit than without the properties of matter: so that if you deny spirit, because, included in none of the categories of time, space, motion, solidity, etc., it seems deprived of all the attributes which constitute reality, I in my turn will deny matter, which, presenting nothing appreciable but its inertia, nothing intelligible but its forms, manifests itself nowhere as cause (voluntary and free), and disappears from view entirely as substance; and we arrive at pure idealism, that is, nihility. But nihility is inconsistent with the existence of living, reasoning — I know not what to call them — uniting in themselves, in a state of commenced synthesis or imminent dissolution, all the antagonistic attributes of being. We are compelled, then, to end in a dualism whose terms we know perfectly well to be false, but which, being for us the condition of the truth, forces itself irresistibly upon us; we are compelled, in short, to commence, like Descartes and the human race, with the me; that is, with spirit.

But, since religions and philosophies, dissolved by analysis, have disappeared in the theory of the absolute, we know no better than before what spirit is, and in this differ from the ancients only in the wealth of language with which we adorn the darkness that envelops us. With this exception, however; that while, to the ancients, order revealed intelligence outside of the world, to the people of today it seems to reveal it rather within the world. Now, whether we place it within or without, from the moment we affirm it on the ground of order, we must admit it wherever order is manifested, or deny it altogether. There is no more reason for attributing intelligence to the head which produced the "Iliad" than to a mass of matter which crystallizes in octahedrons; and, reciprocally, it is as absurd to refer the system of the world to physical laws, leaving out an ordaining ME, as to attribute the victory of Marengo to strategic combinations, leaving out the first consul. The only distinction that can be made is that, in the latter case, the thinking ME is located in the brain of a Bonaparte, while, in the case of the universe, the ME has no special location, but extends everywhere.

The materialists think that they have easily disposed of their opponents by saying that man, having likened the universe to his body, finishes the comparison by presuming the existence in the universe of a soul similar to that which he supposes to be the principle of his own life and thought; that thus all the arguments in support of the existence of God are reducible to an analogy all the more false because the term of comparison is itself hypothetical.

It is certainly not my intention to defend the old syllogism: Every arrangement implies an ordaining intelligence; there is wonderful order in the world; then the world is the work of an intelligence. This syllogism, discussed so widely since the days of Job and Moses, very far from being a solution, is but the statement of the problem which it assumes to solve. We know perfectly well what order is, but we are absolutely ignorant of the meaning of the words Soul, Spirit, Intelligence: how, then, can we logically reason from the presence of the one to the existence of the other? I reject, then, even when advanced by the most thoroughly informed, the pretended proof of the existence of God drawn from the presence of order in the world; I see in it at most only an equation offered to philosophy. Between the conception of order and the affirmation of spirit there is a deep gulf of metaphysics to be filled up; I am unwilling, I repeat, to take the problem for the demonstration.

But this is not the point which we are now considering. I have tried to show that the human mind was inevitably and irresistibly led to the distinction of being into me and not-me, spirit and matter, soul and body. Now, who does not see that the objection of the materialists proves the very thing it is intended to deny? Man distinguishing within himself a spiritual principle and a material principle, — what is this but Nature herself, proclaiming by turns her double essence, and bearing testimony to her own laws? And notice the inconsistency of materialism: it denies, and has to deny, that man is free; now, the less liberty man has, the more weight is to be attached to his words, and the greater their claim to be regarded as the expression of truth. When I hear this machine say to me, "I am soul and I am body," though such a revelation astonishes and confounds me, it is invested in my eyes with an authority incomparably greater than that of the materialist who, correcting conscience and Nature, undertakes to make them say, "I am matter and only matter, and intelligence is but the material faculty of knowing."

What would become of this assertion, if, assuming in my turn the offensive, I should demonstrate that belief in the existence of bodies, or, in other words, in the reality of a purely corporeal nature, is untenable? Matter, they say, is impenetrable. — Impenetrable by what? I ask. Itself, undoubtedly; for they would not dare to say spirit, since they would therein admit what they wish to set aside. Whereupon I raise this double question: What do you know about it, and what does it signify?

1. Impenetrability, which is pretended to be the definition of matter, is only an hypothesis of careless naturalists, a gross conclusion deduced from a superficial judgment. Experience shows that matter possesses infinite divisibility, infinite expansibility, porosity without assignable limits, and permeability by heat, electricity, and magnetism, together with a power of retaining them indefinitely; affinities, reciprocal influences, and transformations without number: qualities, all of them, hardly compatible with the assumption of an impenetrable aliquid. Elasticity, which, better than any other property of matter, could lead, through the idea of spring or resistance, to that of impenetrability, is subject to the control of a thousand circumstances, and depends entirely on molecular attraction: now, what is more irreconcilable with impenetrability than this attraction? Finally, there is a science which might be defined with exactness as the science of penetrability of matter: I mean chemistry. In fact, how does what is called chemical composition differ from penetration? (5).... In short, we know matter only through its forms; of its substance we know nothing. How, then, is it possible to affirm the reality of an invisible, impalpable, incoercible being, ever changing, ever vanishing, impenetrable to thought alone, to which it exhibits only its disguises? Materialist! I permit you to testify to the reality of your sensations; as to what occasions them, all that you can say involves this reciprocity: something (which you call matter) is the occasion of sensations which are felt by another something (which I call spirit).

2. But what, then, is the source of this supposition that matter is impenetrable, which external observation does not justify and which is not true; and what is its meaning?

Here appears the triumph of dualism. Matter is pronounced impenetrable, not, as the materialists and the vulgar fancy, by the testimony of the senses, but by the conscience. The me, an incomprehensible nature, feeling itself free, distinct, and permanent, and meeting outside of itself another nature equally incomprehensible, but also distinct and permanent in spite of its metamorphoses, declares, on the strength of the sensations and ideas which this essence suggests to it, that the not-me is extended and impenetrable. Impenetrability is a figurative term, an image by which thought, a division of the absolute, pictures to itself material reality, another division of the absolute; but this impenetrability, without which matter disappears, is, in the last analysis, only a spontaneous judgment of inward sensation, a metaphysical a priori, an unverified hypothesis of spirit.

Thus, whether philosophy, after having overthrown theological dogmatism, spiritualizes matter or materializes thought, idealizes being or realizes ideas; or whether, identifying substance and cause, it everywhere substitutes FORCE, phrases, all, which explain and signify nothing, — it always leads us back to this everlasting dualism, and, in summoning us to believe in ourselves, compels us to believe in God, if not in spirits. It is true that, making spirit a part of Nature, in distinction from the ancients, who separated it, philosophy has been led to this famous conclusion, which sums up nearly all the fruit of its researches: In man spirit knows itself, while everywhere else it seems not to know itself — "That which is awake in man, which dreams in the animal, and sleeps in the stone," said a philosopher.

Philosophy, then, in its last hour, knows no more than at its birth: as if it had appeared in the world only to verify the words of Socrates, it says to us, wrapping itself solemnly around with its funeral pall, "I know only that I know nothing." What do I say? Philosophy knows today that all its judgments rest on two equally false, equally impossible, and yet equally necessary and inevitable hypotheses, — matter and spirit. So that, while in former times religious intolerance and philosophic disputes, spreading darkness everywhere, excused doubt and tempted to libidinous indifference, the triumph of negation on all points no longer permits even this doubt; thought, freed from every barrier, but conquered by its own successes, is forced to affirm what seems to it clearly contradictory and absurd. The savages say that the world is a great fetich watched over by a great manitou. For thirty centuries the poets, legislators, and sages of civilization, handing down from age to age the philosophic lamp, have written nothing more sublime than this profession of faith. And here, at the end of this long conspiracy against God, which has called itself philosophy, emancipated reason concludes with savage reason, The universe is a not-me, objectified by a me.

Humanity, then, inevitably supposes the existence of God: and if, during the long period which closes with our time, it has believed in the reality of its hypothesis; if it has worshipped the inconceivable object; if, after being apprehended in this act of faith, it persists knowingly, but no longer voluntarily, in this opinion of a sovereign being which it knows to be only a personification of its own thought; if it is on the point of again beginning its magic invocations, — we must believe that so astonishing an hallucination conceals some mystery, which deserves to be fathomed.

I say hallucination and mystery, but without intending to deny thereby the superhuman content of the God-idea, and without admitting the necessity of a new symbolism, — I mean a new religion. For if it is indisputable that humanity, in affirming God, — or all that is included in the word me or spirit, — only affirms itself, it is equally undeniable that it affirms itself as something other than its own conception of itself, as all mythologies and theologies show. And since, moreover, this affirmation is incontestable, it depends, without doubt, upon hidden relations, which ought, if possible, to be determined scientifically.

In other words, atheism, sometimes called humanism, true in its critical and negative features, would be, if it stopped at man in his natural condition, if it discarded as an erroneous judgment the first affirmation of humanity, that it is the daughter, emanation, image, reflection, or voice of God, -humanism, I say, if it thus denied its past, would be but one contradiction more. We are forced, then, to undertake the criticism of humanism; that is, to ascertain whether humanity, considered as a whole and throughout all its periods of development, satisfies the Divine idea, after eliminating from the latter the exaggerated and fanciful attributes of God; whether it satisfies the perfection of being; whether it satisfies itself. We are forced, in short, to inquire whether humanity tends toward God, according to the ancient dogma, or is itself becoming God, as modern philosophers claim. Perhaps we shall find in the end that the two systems, despite their seeming opposition, are both true and essentially identical: in that case, the infallibility of human reason, in its collective manifestations as well as its studied speculations, would be decisively confirmed. — In a word, until we have verified to man the hypothesis of God, there is nothing definitive in the atheistic negation.

It is, then, a scientific, that is, an empirical demonstration of the idea of God, that we need: now, such a demonstration has never been attempted. Theology dogmatizing on the authority of its myths, philosophy speculating by the aid of categories, God has existed as a transcendental conception, incognizable by the reason, and the hypothesis always subsists.

It subsists, I say, this hypothesis, more tenacious, more pitiless than ever. We have reached one of those prophetic epochs when society, scornful of the past and doubtful of the future, now distractedly clings to the present, leaving a few solitary thinkers to establish the new faith; now cries to God from the depths of its enjoyments and asks for a sign of salvation, or seeks in the spectacle of its revolutions, as in the entrails of a victim, the secret of its destiny.

Why need I insist further? The hypothesis of God is allowable, for it forces itself upon every man in spite of himself: no one, then, can take exception to it. He who believes can do no less than grant me the supposition that God exists; he who denies is forced to grant it to me also, since he entertained it before me, every negation implying a previous affirmation; as for him who is in doubt, he needs but to reflect a moment to understand that his doubt necessarily supposes an unknown something, which, sooner or later, he will call God.

But if I possess, through the fact of my thought, the right to suppose God, I must abandon the right to affirm him. In other words, if my hypothesis is irresistible, that, for the present, is all that I can pretend. For to affirm is to determine; now, every determination, to be true, must be reached empirically. In fact, whoever says determination, says relation, conditionality, experience. Since, then, the determination of the idea of God must result from an empirical demonstration, we must abstain from everything which, in the search for this great unknown, not being established by experience, goes beyond the hypothesis, under penalty of relapsing into the contradictions of theology, and consequently arousing anew atheistic dissent.

III.

It remains for me to tell why, in a work on political economy, I have felt it necessary to start with the fundamental hypothesis of all philosophy.

And first, I need the hypothesis of God to establish the authority of social science. — When the astronomer, to explain the system of the world, judging solely from appearance, supposes, with the vulgar, the sky arched, the earth flat, the sun much like a football, describing a curve in the air from east to west, he supposes the infallibility of the senses, reserving the right to rectify subsequently, after further observation, the data with which he is obliged to start. Astronomic philosophy, in fact, could not admit a priori that the senses deceive us, and that we do not see what we do see: admitting such a principle, what would become of the certainty of astronomy? But the evidence of the senses being able, in certain cases, to rectify and complete itself, the authority of the senses remains unshaken, and astronomy is possible.

So social philosophy does not admit a priori that humanity can err or be deceived in its actions: if it should, what would become of the authority of the human race, that is, the authority of reason, synonymous at bottom with the sovereignty of the people? But it thinks that human judgments, always true at the time they are pronounced, can successively complete and throw light on each other, in proportion to the acquisition of ideas, in such a way as to maintain continual harmony between universal reason and individual speculation, and indefinitely extend the sphere of certainty: which is always an affirmation of the authority of human judgments.

Now, the first judgment of the reason, the preamble of every political constitution seeking a sanction and a principle, is necessarily this: There is a God; which means that society is governed with design, premeditation, intelligence. This judgment, which excludes chance, is, then, the foundation of the possibility of a social science; and every historical and positive study of social facts, undertaken with a view to amelioration and progress, must suppose, with the people, the existence of God, reserving the right to account for this judgment at a later period.

Thus the history of society is to us but a long determination of the idea of God, a progressive revelation of the destiny of man. And while ancient wisdom made all depend on the arbitrary and fanciful notion of Divinity, oppressing reason and conscience, and arresting progress through fear of an invisible master, the new philosophy, reversing the method, trampling on the authority of God as well as that of man, and accepting no other yoke than that of fact and evidence, makes all converge toward the theological hypothesis, as toward the last of its problems.

Humanitarian atheism is, therefore, the last step in the moral and intellectual enfranchisement of man, consequently the last phase of philosophy, serving as a pathway to the scientific reconstruction and verification of all the demolished dogmas.

I need the hypothesis of God, not only, as I have just said, to give a meaning to history, but also to legitimate the reforms to be effected, in the name of science, in the State.

Whether we consider Divinity as outside of society, whose movements it governs from on high (a wholly gratuitous and probably illusory opinion); or whether we deem it immanent in society and identical with that impersonal and unconscious reason which, acting instinctively, makes civilization advance (although impersonality and ignorance of self are contrary to the idea of intelligence); or whether, finally, all that is accomplished in society results from the relation of its elements (a system whose whole merit consists in changing an active into a passive, in making intelligence necessity, or, which amounts to the same thing, in taking law for cause), — it always follows that the manifestations of social activity, necessarily appearing to us either as indications of the will of the Supreme Being, or as a sort of language typical of general and impersonal reason, or, finally, as landmarks of necessity, are absolute authority for us. Being connected in time as well as in spirit, the facts accomplished determine and legitimate the facts to be accomplished; science and destiny are in accord; everything which happens resulting from reason, and, reciprocally, reason judging only from experience of that which happens, science has a right to participate in government, and that which establishes its competency as a counsellor justifies its intervention as a sovereign.

Science, expressed, recognized, and accepted by the voice of all as divine, is queen of the world. Thus, thanks to the hypothesis of God, all conservative or retrogressive opposition, every dilatory plea offered by theology, tradition, or selfishness, finds itself peremptorily and irrevocably set aside.

I need the hypothesis of God to show the tie which unites civilization with Nature.

In fact, this astonishing hypothesis, by which man is assimilated to the absolute, implying identity of the laws of Nature and the laws of reason, enables us to see in human industry the complement of creative action, unites man with the globe which he inhabits, and, in the cultivation of the domain in which Providence has placed us, which thus becomes in part our work, gives us a conception of the principle and end of all things. If, then, humanity is not God, it is a continuation of God; or, if a different phraseology be preferred, that which humanity does today by design is the same thing that it began by instinct, and which Nature seems to accomplish by necessity. In all these cases, and whichever opinion we may choose, one thing remains certain: the unity of action and law. Intelligent beings, actors in an intelligently- devised fable, we may fearlessly reason from ourselves to the universe and the eternal; and, when we shall have completed the organization of labor, may say with pride, The creation is explained.

Thus philosophy's field of exploration is fixed; tradition is the starting- point of all speculation as to the future; utopia is forever exploded; the study of the me, transferred from the individual conscience to the manifestations of the social will, acquires the character of objectivity of which it has been hitherto deprived; and, history becoming psychology, theology anthropology, the natural sciences metaphysics, the theory of the reason is deduced no longer from the vacuum of the intellect, but from the innumerable forms of a Nature abundantly and directly observable.

I need the hypothesis of God to prove my good-will towards a multitude of sects, whose opinions I do not share, but whose malice I fear: — theists; I know one who, in the cause of God, would be ready to draw sword, and, like Robespierre, use the guillotine until the last atheist should be destroyed, not dreaming that that atheist would be himself; — mystics, whose party, largely made up of students and women marching under the banner of MM. Lamennais, Quinet, Leroux, and others, has taken for a motto, "Like master, like man;" like God, like people; and, to regulate the wages of the workingman, begins by restoring religion; — spiritualists, who, should I overlook the rights of spirit, would accuse me of establishing the worship of matter, against which I protest with all the strength of my soul; — sensualists and materialists, to whom the divine dogma is the symbol of constraint and the principle of enslavement of the passions, outside of which, they say, there is for man neither pleasure, nor virtue, nor genius; — eclectics and sceptics, sellers and publishers of all the old philosophies, but not philosophers themselves, united in one vast brotherhood, with approbation and privilege, against whoever thinks, believes, or affirms without their permission; -conservatives finally, retrogressives, egotists, and hypocrites, preaching the love of God by hatred of their neighbor, attributing to liberty the world's misfortunes since the deluge, and scandalizing reason by their foolishness.

Is it possible, however, that they will attack an hypothesis which, far from blaspheming the revered phantoms of faith, aspires only to exhibit them in broad daylight; which, instead of rejecting traditional dogmas and the prejudices of conscience, asks only to verify them; which, while defending itself against exclusive opinions, takes for an axiom the infallibility of reason, and, thanks to this fruitful principle, will doubtless never decide against any of the antagonistic sects? Is it possible that the religious and political conservatives will charge me with disturbing the order of society, when I start with the hypothesis of a sovereign intelligence, the source of every thought of order; that the semi-Christian democrats will curse me as an enemy of God, and consequently a traitor to the republic, when I am seeking for the meaning and content of the idea of God; and that the tradesmen of the university will impute to me the impiety of demonstrating the non-value of their philosophical products, when I am especially maintaining that philosophy should be studied in its object, — that is, in the manifestations of society and Nature?....

I need the hypothesis of God to justify my style.

In my ignorance of everything regarding God, the world, the soul, and destiny; forced to proceed like the materialist, — that is, by observation and experience, — and to conclude in the language of the believer, because there is no other; not knowing whether my formulas, theological in spite of me, would be taken literally or figuratively; in this perpetual contemplation of God, man, and things, obliged to submit to the synonymy of all the terms included in the three categories of thought, speech, and action, but wishing to affirm nothing on either one side or the other, — rigorous logic demanded that I should suppose, no more, no less, this unknown that is called God. We are full of Divinity, Jovis omnia plena; our monuments, our traditions, our laws, our ideas, our languages, and our sciences, all are infected by this indelible superstition outside of which we can neither speak nor act, and without which we do not even think.

Finally, I need the hypothesis of God to explain the publication of these new memoirs.

Our society feels itself big with events, and is anxious about the future: how account for these vague presentiments by the sole aid of a universal reason, immanent if you will, and permanent, but impersonal, and therefore dumb, or by the idea of necessity, if it implies that necessity is self- conscious, and consequently has presentiments? There remains then, once more, an agent or nightmare which weighs upon society, and gives it visions.

Now, when society prophesies, it puts questions in the mouths of some, and answers in the mouths of others. And wise, then, he who can listen and understand; for God himself has spoken, quia locutus est Deus.

The Academy of Moral and Political Sciences has proposed the following question: —

"To determine the general facts which govern the relations of profits to wages, and to explain their respective oscillations."

A few years ago the same Academy asked, "What are the causes of misery?" The nineteenth century has, in fact, but one idea, — equality and reform. But the wind bloweth where it listeth: many began to reflect upon the question, no one answered it. The college of aruspices has, therefore, renewed its question, but in more significant terms. It wishes to know whether order prevails in the workshop; whether wages are equitable; whether liberty and privilege compensate each other justly; whether the idea of value, which controls all the facts of exchange, is, in the forms in which the economists have represented it, sufficiently exact; whether credit protects labor; whether circulation is regular; whether the burdens of society weigh equally on all, etc.

And, indeed, insufficiency of income being the immediate cause of misery, it is fitting that we should know why, misfortune and malevolence aside, the workingman's income is insufficient. It is still the same question of inequality of fortunes, which has made such a stir for a century past, and which, by a strange fatality, continually reappears in academic programmes, as if there lay the real difficulty of modern times.

Equality, then, — its principle, its means, its obstacles, its theory, the motives of its postponement, the cause of social and providential iniquities, — these the world has got to learn, in spite of the sneers of incredulity.

I know well that the views of the Academy are not thus profound, and that it equals a council of the Church in its horror of novelties; but the more it turns towards the past, the more it reflects the future, and the more, consequently, must we believe in its inspiration: for the true prophets are those who do not understand their utterances. Listen further.

"What," the Academy has asked, "are the most useful applications of the principle of voluntary and private association that we can make for the alleviation of misery?"

And again: —

"To expound the theory and principles of the contract of insurance, to give its history, and to deduce from its rationale and the facts the developments of which this contract is capable, and the various useful applications possible in the present state of commercial and industrial progress."

Publicists admit that insurance, a rudimentary form of commercial solidarity, is an association in things, societas in re; that is, a society whose conditions, founded on purely economical relations, escape man's arbitrary dictation. So that a philosophy of insurance or mutual guarantee of security, which shall be deduced from the general theory of real (in re ) societies, will contain the formula of universal association, in which no member of the Academy believes. And when, uniting subject and object in the same point of view, the Academy demands, by the side of a theory of association of interests, a theory of voluntary association, it reveals to us the most perfect form of society, and thereby affirms all that is most at variance with its convictions. Liberty, equality, solidarity, association! By what inconceivable blunder has so eminently conservative a body offered to the citizens this new programme of the rights of man? It was in this way that Caiaphas prophesied redemption by disowning Jesus Christ.

Upon the first of these questions, forty-five memoirs were addressed to the Academy within two years, — a proof that the subject was marvellously well suited to the state of the public mind. But among so many competitors no one having been deemed worthy of the prize, the Academy has withdrawn the question; alleging as a reason the incapacity of the competitors, but in reality because, the failure of the contest being the sole object that the Academy had in view, it behooved it to declare, without further delay, that the hopes of the friends of association were groundless.

Thus, then, the gentlemen of the Academy disavow, in their session-chamber, their announcements from the tripod! There is nothing in such a contradiction astonishing to me; and may God preserve me from calling it a crime! The ancients believed that revolutions announced their advent by dreadful signs, and that among other prodigies animals spoke. This was a figure, descriptive of those unexpected ideas and strange words which circulate suddenly among the masses at critical moments, and which seem to be entirely without human antecedent, so far removed are they from the sphere of ordinary judgment. At the time in which we live, such a thing could not fail to occur. After having, by a prophetic instinct and a mechanical spontaneity, pecudesque locutae, proclaimed association, the gentlemen of the Academy of Moral and Political Sciences have returned to their ordinary prudence; and with them custom has conquered inspiration. Let us learn, then, how to distinguish heavenly counsel from the interested judgments of men, and hold it for certain that, in the discourse of sages, that is the most trustworthy to which they have given the least reflection.

Nevertheless the Academy, in breaking so rudely with its intuitions, seems to have felt some remorse. In place of a theory of association in which, after reflection, it no longer believes, it asks for a "Critical examination of Pestalozzi's system of instruction and education, considered mainly in its relation to the well-being and morality of the poor classes." Who knows? perchance the relation between profits and wages, association, the organization of labor indeed, are to be found at the bottom of a system of instruction. Is not man's life a perpetual apprenticeship? Are not philosophy and religion humanity's education? To organize instruction, then, would be to organize industry and fix the theory of society: the Academy, in its lucid moments, always returns to that.

"What influence," the Academy again asks, "do progress and a desire for material comfort have upon a nation's morality?"

Taken in its most obvious sense, this new question of the Academy is commonplace, and fit at best to exercise a rhetorisian's skill. But the Academy, which must continue till the end in its ignorance of the revolutionary significance of its oracles, has drawn aside the curtain in its commentary. What, then, so profound has it discovered in this Epicurean thesis?

"The desire for luxury and its enjoyments," it tells us; "the singular love of it felt by the majority; the tendency of hearts and minds to occupy themselves with it exclusively; the agreement of individuals AND THE STATE in making it the motive and the end of all their projects, all their efforts, and all their sacrifices, — engender general or individual feelings which, beneficent or injurious, become principles of action more potent, perhaps, than any which have heretofore governed men."

Never had moralists a more favorable opportunity to assail the sensualism of the century, the venality of consciences, and the corruption instituted by the government: instead of that, what does the Academy of Moral Sciences do? With the most automatic calmness, it establishes a series in which luxury, so long proscribed by the stoics and ascetics, — those masters of holiness, — must appear in its turn as a principle of conduct as legitimate, as pure, and as grand as all those formerly invoked by religion and philosophy. Determine, it tells us, the motives of action (undoubtedly now old and worn- out) of which LUXURY is historically the providential successor, and, from the results of the former, calculate the effects of the latter. Prove, in short, that Aristippus was only in advance of his century, and that his system of morality must have its day, as well as that of Zeno and A Kempis.

We are dealing, then, with a society which no longer wishes to be poor; which mocks at everything that was once dear and sacred to it, — liberty, religion, and glory, — so long as it has not wealth; which, to obtain it, submits to all outrages, and becomes an accomplice in all sorts of cowardly actions: and this burning thirst for pleasure, this irresistible desire to arrive at luxury, — a symptom of a new period in civilization, — is the supreme commandment by virtue of which we are to labor for the abolition of poverty: thus saith the Academy. What becomes, then, of the doctrine of expiation and abstinence, the morality of sacrifice, resignation, and happy moderation? What distrust of the compensation promised in the other life, and what a contradiction of the Gospel! But, above all, what a justification of a government which has adopted as its system the golden key! Why have religious men, Christians, Senecas, given utterance in concert to so many immoral maxims?

The Academy, completing its thought, will reply to us: —

"Show how the progress of criminal justice, in the prosecution and punishment of attacks upon persons and property, follows and marks the ages of civilization from the savage condition up to that of the best-governed nations."

Is it possible that the criminal lawyers in the Academy of Moral Sciences foresaw the conclusion of their premises? The fact whose history is now to be studied, and which the Academy describes by the words "progress of criminal justice," is simply the gradual mitigation which manifests itself, both in the forms of criminal examinations and in the penalties inflicted, in proportion as civilization increases in liberty, light, and wealth. So that, the principle of repressive institutions being the direct opposite of all those on which the welfare of society depends, there is a constant elimination of all parts of the penal system as well as all judicial paraphernalia, and the final inference from this movement is that the guarantee of order lies neither in fear nor punishment; consequently, neither in hell nor religion.

What a subversion of received ideas! What a denial of all that it is the business of the Academy of Moral Sciences to defend! But, if the guarantee of order no longer lies in the fear of a punishment to be suffered, either in this life or in another, where then are to be found the guarantees protective of persons and property? Or rather, without repressive institutions, what becomes of property? And without property, what becomes of the family?

The Academy, which knows nothing of all these things, replies without agitation: —

"Review the various phases of the organization of the family upon the soil of France from ancient times down to our day."

Which means: Determine, by the previous progress of family organization, the conditions of the existence of the family in a state of equality of fortunes, voluntary and free association, universal solidarity, material comfort and luxury, and public order without prisons, courts, police, or hangmen.

There will be astonishment, perhaps, at finding that the Academy of Moral and Political Sciences, after having, like the boldest innovators, called in question all the principles of social order, — religion, family, property, justice, — has not also proposed this problem: What is the best form of government? In fact, government is for society the source of all initiative, every guarantee, every reform. It would be, then, interesting to know whether the government, as constituted by the Charter, is adequate to the practical solution of the Academy's questions.

But it would be a misconception of the oracles to imagine that they proceed by induction and analysis; and precisely because the political problem was a condition or corollary of the demonstrations asked for, the Academy could not offer it for competition. Such a conclusion would have opened its eyes, and, without waiting for the memoirs of the competitors, it would have hastened to suppress its entire programme. The Academy has approached the question from above. It has said: —

The works of God are beautiful in their own essence, justificata in semet ipsa; they are true, in a word, because they are his. The thoughts of man resemble dense vapors pierced by long and narrow flashes. What, then, is the truth in relation to us, and what is the character of certainty?

As if the Academy had said to us: You shall verify the hypothesis of your existence, the hypothesis of the Academy which interrogates you, the hypotheses of time, space, motion, thought, and the laws of thought. Then you may verify the hypothesis of pauperism, the hypothesis of inequality of conditions, the hypothesis of universal association, the hypothesis of happiness, the hypotheses of monarchy and republicanism, the hypothesis of Providence!....

A complete criticism of God and humanity.

I point to the programme of the honorable society: it is not I who have fixed the conditions of my task, it is the Academy of Moral and Political Sciences. Now, how can I satisfy these conditions, if I am not myself endowed with infallibility; in a word, if I am not God or divine? The Academy admits, then, that divinity and humanity are identical, or at least correlative; but the question now is in what consists this correlation: such is the meaning of the problem of certainty, such is the object of social philosophy.

Thus, then, in the name of the society that God inspires, an Academy questions.

In the name of the same society, I am one of the prophets who attempt to answer. The task is an immense one, and I do not promise to accomplish it: I will go as far as God shall give me strength. But, whatever I may say, it does not come from me: the thought which inspires my pen is not personal, and nothing that I write can be attributed to me. I shall give the facts as I have seen them; I shall judge them by what I shall have said; I shall call everything by its strongest name, and no one will take offence. I shall inquire freely, and by the rules of divination which I have learned, into the meaning of the divine purpose which is now expressing itself through the eloquent lips of sages and the inarticulate wailings of the people: and, though I should deny all the prerogatives guaranteed by our Constitution, I shall not be factious. I shall point my finger whither an invisible influence is pushing us; and neither my action nor my words shall be irritating. I shall stir up the cloud, and, though I should cause it to launch the thunderbolt, I should be innocent. In this solemn investigation to which the Academy invites me, I have more than the right to tell the truth, — I have the right to say what I think: may my thought, my words, and the truth be but one and the same thing!

And you, reader, — for without a reader there is no writer, — you are half of my work. Without you, I am only sounding brass; with the aid of your attention, I will speak marvels. Do you see this passing whirlwind called SOCIETY, from which burst forth, with startling brilliancy, lightnings, thunders, and voices? I wish to cause you to place your finger on the hidden springs which move it; but to that end you must reduce yourself at my command to a state of pure intelligence. The eyes of love and pleasure are powerless to recognize beauty in a skeleton, harmony in naked viscera, life in dark and coagulated blood: consequently the secrets of the social organism are a sealed letter to the man whose brain is beclouded by passion and prejudice. Such sublimities are unattainable except by cold and silent contemplation. Suffer me, then, before revealing to your eyes the leaves of the book of life, to prepare your soul by this sceptical purification which the great teachers of the people — Socrates, Jesus Christ, St. Paul, St. Remi, Bacon, Descartes, Galileo, Kant, etc. — have always claimed of their disciples.

Whoever you may be, clad in the rags of misery or decked in the sumptuous vestments of luxury, I restore you to that state of luminous nudity which neither the fumes of wealth nor the poisons of envious poverty dim. How persuade the rich that the difference of conditions arises from an error in the accounts; and how can the poor, in their beggary, conceive that the proprietor possesses in good faith? To investigate the sufferings of the laborer is to the idler the most intolerable of amusements; just as to do justice to the fortunate is to the miserable the bitterest of draughts.

You occupy a high position: I strip you of it; there you are, free. There is too much optimism beneath this official costume, too much subordination, too much idleness. Science demands an insurrection of thought: now, the thought of an official is his salary.

Your mistress, beautiful, passionate, artistic, is, I like to believe, possessed only by you. That is, your soul, your spirit, your conscience, have passed into the most charming object of luxury that nature and art have produced for the eternal torment of fascinated mortals. I separate you from this divine half of yourself: at the present day it is too much to wish for justice and at the same time to love a woman. To think with grandeur and clearness, man must remove the lining of his nature and hold to his masculine hypostasis. Besides, in the state in which I have put you, your lover would no longer know you: remember the wife of Job.

What is your religion?.... Forget your faith, and, through wisdom, become an atheist. — What! you say; an atheist in spite of our hypothesis! — No, but because of our hypothesis. One's thought must have been raised above divine things for a long time to be entitled to suppose a personality beyond man, a life beyond this life. For the rest, have no fears for your salvation. God is not angry with those who are led by reason to deny him, any more than he is anxious for those who are led by faith to worship him; and, in the state of your conscience, the surest course for you is to think nothing about him. Do you not see that it is with religion as with governments, the most perfect of which would be the denial of all? Then let no political or religious fancy hold your soul captive; in this way only can you now keep from being either a dupe or a renegade. Ah! said I in the days of my enthusiastic youth, shall I not hear the tolling for the second vespers of the republic, and our priests, dressed in white tunics, singing after the Doric fashion the returning hymn: Change, ô Dieu, notre servitude, comme le vent du desert en un souffle rafraîchissan!..... But I have despaired of republicans, and no longer know either religion or priests.

I should like also, in order to thoroughly secure your judgment, dear reader, to render your soul insensible to pity, superior to virtue, indifferent to happiness. But that would be too much to expect of a neophyte. Remember only, and never forget, that pity, happiness, and virtue, like country, religion, and love, are masks....

NOTES

1. Ie-hovah, and in composition Iah, the Being; Iao, ioupitur, same meaning; ha-iah, Heb., he was; ei, Gr, he is, ei-nai, to be; an-i, Heb., and in conjugation th-i, me; e-go, io, ich, i, m-i, me, t-ibi, te, and all the personal pronouns in which the vowels i, e, ei, oi, denote personality in general, and the consonants, m or n, s or t, serve to indicate the number of the person. For the rest, let who will dispute over these analogies; I have no objections: at this depth, the science of the philologist is but cloud and mystery. The important point to which I wish to call attention is that the phonetic relation of names seems to correspond to the metaphysical relation of ideas.

2. The Chinese have preserved in their traditions the remembrance of a religion which had ceased to exist among them five or six centuries before our era. (See Pauthier, "China," Paris, Didot.) More surprising still is it that this singular people, in losing its primitive faith, seems to have understood that divinity is simply the collective me of humanity: so that, more than two thousand years ago, China had reached, in its commonly- accepted belief, the latest results of the philosophy of the Occident. "What Heaven sees and understands," it is written in the Shu-king, "is only that which the people see and understand. What the people deem worthy of reward and punishment is that which Heaven wishes to punish and reward. There is an intimate communication between Heaven and the people: let those who govern the people, therefore, be watchful and cautious." Confucius expressed the same idea in another manner: "Gain the affection of the people, and you gain empire. Lose the affection of the people, and you lose empire." There, then, general reason was regarded as queen of the world, a distinction which elsewhere has been bestowed upon revelations. The Tao-te- king is still more explicit. In this work, which is but an outline criticism of pure reason, the philosopher Lao-tse continually identifies, under the name of TAO, universal reason and the infinite being; and all the obscurity of the book of Lao tse consists, in my opinion, of this constant identification of principles which our religious and metaphysical habits have so widely separated.

3. See, among others, Auguste Comte, "Course of Positive Philosophy," and P. J. Proudhon, "Creation of Order in Humanity."

4. I do not mean to affirm here in a positive manner the transmutability of bodies, or to point it out as a subject for investigation; still less do I pretend to say what ought to be the opinion of savants upon this point. I wish only to call attention to the species of scepticism generated in every uninformed mind by the most general conclusions of chemical philosophy, or, better, by the irreconcilable hypotheses which serve as the basis of its theories. Chemistry is truly the despair of reason: on all sides it mingles with the fanciful; and the more knowledge of it we gain by experience, the more it envelops itself in impenetrable mysteries. This thought was recently suggested to me by reading M. Liebig's "Letters on Chemistry" (Paris, Masgana, 1845, translation of Bertet-Dupiney and Dubreuil Helion).

Thus M. Liebig, after having banished from science hypothetical causes and all the entities admitted by the ancients, — such as the creative power of matter, the horror of a vacuum, the esprit recteur, etc. (p. 22), — admits immediately, as necessary to the comprehension of chemical phenomena, a series of entities no less obscure, — vital force, chemical force, electric force, the force of attraction, etc. (pp. 146, 149). One might call it a realization of the properties of bodies, in imitation of the psychologists' realization of the faculties of the soul under the names liberty, imagination, memory, etc. Why not keep to the elements? Why, if the atoms have weight of their own, as M. Liebig appears to believe, may they not also have electricity and life of their own? Curious thing! the phenomena of matter, like those of mind, become intelligible only by supposing them to be produced by unintelligible forces and governed by contradictory laws: such is the inference to be drawn from every page of M. Liebig's book.

Matter, according to M. Liebig, is essentially inert and entirely destitute of spontaneous activity (p. 148): why, then, do the atoms have weight? Is not the weight inherent in atoms the real, eternal, and spontaneous motion of matter? And that which we chance to regard as rest, — may it not be equilibrium rather? Why, then, suppose now an inertia which definitions contradict, now an external potentiality which nothing proves?

Atoms having weight, M. Liebig infers that they are indivisible (p. 58). What logic! Weight is only force, that is, a thing hidden from the senses, whose phenomena alone are perceptible, — a thing, consequently, to which the idea of division and indivision is inapplicable; and from the presence of this force, from the hypothesis of an indeterminate and immaterial entity, is inferred an indivisible material existence!

For the rest, M. Liebig confesses that it is impossible for the mind to conceive of particles absolutely indivisible; he recognizes, further, that the fact of this indivisibility is not proved; but he adds that science cannot dispense with this hypothesis: so that, by the confession of its teachers, chemistry has for its point of departure a fiction as repugnant to the mind as it is foreign to experience. What irony!

Atoms are unequal in weight, says M. Liebig, because unequal in volume: nevertheless, it is impossible to demonstrate that chemical equivalents express the relative weight of atoms, or, in other words, that what the calculation of atomic equivalents leads us to regard as an atom is not composed of several atoms. This is tantamount to saying that more matter weighs more than less matter; and, since weight is the essence of materiality, we may logically conclude that, weight being universally identical with itself, there is also an identity in matter; that the differences of simple bodies are due solely, either to different methods of atomic association, or to different degrees of molecular condensation, and that, in reality, atoms are transmutable: which M. Liebig does not admit.

"We have," he says, "no reason for believing that one element is convertible into another element" (p. 135). What do you know about it? The reasons for believing in such a conversion can very well exist and at the same time escape your attention; and it is not certain that your intelligence in this respect has risen to the level of your experience. But, admitting the negative argument of M. Liebig, what follows? That, with about fifty- six exceptions, irreducible as yet, all matter is in a condition of perpetual metamorphosis. Now, it is a law of our reason to suppose in Nature unity of substance as well as unity of force and system; moreover, the series of chemical compounds and simple substances themselves leads us irresistibly to this conclusion. Why, then, refuse to follow to the end the road opened by science, and to admit an hypothesis which is the inevitable result of experience itself?

M. Liebig not only denies the transmutability of elements, but rejects the spontaneous formation of germs. Now, if we reject the spontaneous formation of germs, we are forced to admit their eternity; and as, on the other hand, geology proves that the globe has not been inhabited always, we must admit also that, at a given moment, the eternal germs of animals and plants were born, without father or mother, over the whole face of the earth. Thus, the denial of spontaneous generation leads back to the hypothesis of spontaneity: what is there in much-derided metaphysics more contradictory?

Let it not be thought, however, that I deny the value and certainty of chemical theories, or that the atomic theory seems to me absurd, or that I share the Epicurean opinion as to spontaneous generation. Once more, all that I wish to point out is that, from the point of view of principles, chemistry needs to exercise extreme tolerance, since its own existence depends on a certain number of fictions, contrary to reason and experience, and destructive of each other.

5. Chemists distinguish between mixture and composition, just as logicians distinguish between the association of ideas and their synthesis. It is true, nevertheless, that, according to the chemists, composition may be after all but a mixture, or rather an aggregation of atoms, no longer fortuitous, but systematic, the atoms forming different compounds by varying their arrangement. But still this is only an hypothesis, wholly gratuitous; an hypothesis which explains nothing, and has not even the merit of being logical. Why does a purely numerical or geometrical difference in the composition and form of atoms give rise to physiological properties so different? If atoms are indivisible and impenetrable, why does not their association, confined to mechanical effects, leave them unchanged in essence? Where is the relation between the cause supposed and the effect obtained?

We must distrust our intellectual vision: it is with chemical theories as with psychological systems. The mind, in order to account for phenomena, works with atoms, which it does not and can never see, as with the me, which it does not perceive: it applies its categories to everything; that is, it distinguishes, individualizes, concretes, numbers, compares, things which, material or immaterial, are thoroughly identical and indistinguishable. Matter, as well as spirit, plays, as we view it, all sorts of parts; and, as there is nothing arbitrary in its metamorphoses, we build upon them these psychologic and atomic theories, true in so far as they faithfully represent, in terms agreed upon, the series of phenomena, but radically false as soon as they pretend to realize their abstractions and are accepted literally.

Hidden 7 yrs ago 7 yrs ago Post by Polymorpheus
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Polymorpheus

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Hidden 7 yrs ago 7 yrs ago Post by Keyguyperson
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Keyguyperson Welcome to Cyberhell

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I'd dump the entirety of Das Kapital, but I'm DEFINITELY too lazy to do that.

(Insert some shitty joke about communism and laziness here)

Also, inb4 Alphabet Soup comes and arrests us all for piracy.
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BrobyDDark Gentleman Spidey

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According to all known laws
of aviation,


there is no way a bee
should be able to fly.


Its wings are too small to get
its fat little body off the ground.


The bee, of course, flies anyway


because bees don't care
what humans think is impossible.


Yellow, black. Yellow, black.
Yellow, black. Yellow, black.


Ooh, black and yellow!
Let's shake it up a little.


Barry! Breakfast is ready!


Coming!


Hang on a second.


Hello?


- Barry?
- Adam?


- Can you believe this is happening?
- I can't. I'll pick you up.


Looking sharp.


Use the stairs. Your father
paid good money for those.


Sorry. I'm excited.


Here's the graduate.
We're very proud of you, son.


A perfect report card, all B's.


Very proud.


Ma! I got a thing going here.


- You got lint on your fuzz.
- Ow! That's me!


- Wave to us! We'll be in row 118,000.
- Bye!


Barry, I told you,
stop flying in the house!


- Hey, Adam.
- Hey, Barry.


- Is that fuzz gel?
- A little. Special day, graduation.


Never thought I'd make it.


Three days grade school,
three days high school.


Those were awkward.


Three days college. I'm glad I took
a day and hitchhiked around the hive.


You did come back different.


- Hi, Barry.
- Artie, growing a mustache? Looks good.


- Hear about Frankie?
- Yeah.


- You going to the funeral?
- No, I'm not going.


Everybody knows,
sting someone, you die.


Don't waste it on a squirrel.
Such a hothead.


I guess he could have
just gotten out of the way.


I love this incorporating
an amusement park into our day.


That's why we don't need vacations.


Boy, quite a bit of pomp...
under the circumstances.


- Well, Adam, today we are men.
- We are!


- Bee-men.
- Amen!


Hallelujah!


Students, faculty, distinguished bees,


please welcome Dean Buzzwell.


Welcome, New Hive City
graduating class of...


...9:15.


That concludes our ceremonies.


And begins your career
at Honex Industries!


Will we pick our job today?


I heard it's just orientation.


Heads up! Here we go.


Keep your hands and antennas
inside the tram at all times.


- Wonder what it'll be like?
- A little scary.


Welcome to Honex,
a division of Honesco


and a part of the Hexagon Group.


This is it!


Wow.


Wow.


We know that you, as a bee,
have worked your whole life


to get to the point where you
can work for your whole life.


Honey begins when our valiant Pollen
Jocks bring the nectar to the hive.


Our top-secret formula


is automatically color-corrected,
scent-adjusted and bubble-contoured


into this soothing sweet syrup


with its distinctive
golden glow you know as...


Honey!


- That girl was hot.
- She's my cousin!


- She is?
- Yes, we're all cousins.


- Right. You're right.
- At Honex, we constantly strive


to improve every aspect
of bee existence.


These bees are stress-testing
a new helmet technology.


- What do you think he makes?
- Not enough.


Here we have our latest advancement,
the Krelman.


- What does that do?
- Catches that little strand of honey


that hangs after you pour it.
Saves us millions.


Can anyone work on the Krelman?


Of course. Most bee jobs are
small ones. But bees know


that every small job,
if it's done well, means a lot.


But choose carefully


because you'll stay in the job
you pick for the rest of your life.


The same job the rest of your life?
I didn't know that.


What's the difference?


You'll be happy to know that bees,
as a species, haven't had one day off


in 27 million years.


So you'll just work us to death?


We'll sure try.


Wow! That blew my mind!


"What's the difference?"
How can you say that?


One job forever?
That's an insane choice to have to make.


I'm relieved. Now we only have
to make one decision in life.


But, Adam, how could they
never have told us that?


Why would you question anything?
We're bees.


We're the most perfectly
functioning society on Earth.


You ever think maybe things
work a little too well here?


Like what? Give me one example.


I don't know. But you know
what I'm talking about.


Please clear the gate.
Royal Nectar Force on approach.


Wait a second. Check it out.


- Hey, those are Pollen Jocks!
- Wow.


I've never seen them this close.


They know what it's like
outside the hive.


Yeah, but some don't come back.


- Hey, Jocks!
- Hi, Jocks!


You guys did great!


You're monsters!
You're sky freaks! I love it! I love it!


- I wonder where they were.
- I don't know.


Their day's not planned.


Outside the hive, flying who knows
where, doing who knows what.


You can't just decide to be a Pollen
Jock. You have to be bred for that.


Right.


Look. That's more pollen
than you and I will see in a lifetime.


It's just a status symbol.
Bees make too much of it.


Perhaps. Unless you're wearing it
and the ladies see you wearing it.


Those ladies?
Aren't they our cousins too?


Distant. Distant.


Look at these two.


- Couple of Hive Harrys.
- Let's have fun with them.


It must be dangerous
being a Pollen Jock.


Yeah. Once a bear pinned me
against a mushroom!


He had a paw on my throat,
and with the other, he was slapping me!


- Oh, my!
- I never thought I'd knock him out.


What were you doing during this?


Trying to alert the authorities.


I can autograph that.


A little gusty out there today,
wasn't it, comrades?


Yeah. Gusty.


We're hitting a sunflower patch
six miles from here tomorrow.


- Six miles, huh?
- Barry!


A puddle jump for us,
but maybe you're not up for it.


- Maybe I am.
- You are not!


We're going 0900 at J-Gate.


What do you think, buzzy-boy?
Are you bee enough?


I might be. It all depends
on what 0900 means.


Hey, Honex!


Dad, you surprised me.


You decide what you're interested in?


- Well, there's a lot of choices.
- But you only get one.


Do you ever get bored
doing the same job every day?


Son, let me tell you about stirring.


You grab that stick, and you just
move it around, and you stir it around.


You get yourself into a rhythm.
It's a beautiful thing.


You know, Dad,
the more I think about it,


maybe the honey field
just isn't right for me.


You were thinking of what,
making balloon animals?


That's a bad job
for a guy with a stinger.


Janet, your son's not sure
he wants to go into honey!


- Barry, you are so funny sometimes.
- I'm not trying to be funny.


You're not funny! You're going
into honey. Our son, the stirrer!


- You're gonna be a stirrer?
- No one's listening to me!


Wait till you see the sticks I have.


I could say anything right now.
I'm gonna get an ant tattoo!


Let's open some honey and celebrate!


Maybe I'll pierce my thorax.
Shave my antennae.


Shack up with a grasshopper. Get
a gold tooth and call everybody "dawg"!


I'm so proud.


- We're starting work today!
- Today's the day.


Come on! All the good jobs
will be gone.


Yeah, right.


Pollen counting, stunt bee, pouring,
stirrer, front desk, hair removal...


- Is it still available?
- Hang on. Two left!


One of them's yours! Congratulations!
Step to the side.


- What'd you get?
- Picking crud out. Stellar!


Wow!


Couple of newbies?


Yes, sir! Our first day! We are ready!


Make your choice.


- You want to go first?
- No, you go.


Oh, my. What's available?


Restroom attendant's open,
not for the reason you think.


- Any chance of getting the Krelman?
- Sure, you're on.


I'm sorry, the Krelman just closed out.


Wax monkey's always open.


The Krelman opened up again.


What happened?


A bee died. Makes an opening. See?
He's dead. Another dead one.


Deady. Deadified. Two more dead.


Dead from the neck up.
Dead from the neck down. That's life!


Oh, this is so hard!


Heating, cooling,
stunt bee, pourer, stirrer,


humming, inspector number seven,
lint coordinator, stripe supervisor,


mite wrangler. Barry, what
do you think I should... Barry?


Barry!


All right, we've got the sunflower patch
in quadrant nine...


What happened to you?
Where are you?


- I'm going out.
- Out? Out where?


- Out there.
- Oh, no!


I have to, before I go
to work for the rest of my life.


You're gonna die! You're crazy! Hello?


Another call coming in.


If anyone's feeling brave,
there's a Korean deli on 83rd


that gets their roses today.


Hey, guys.


- Look at that.
- Isn't that the kid we saw yesterday?


Hold it, son, flight deck's restricted.


It's OK, Lou. We're gonna take him up.


Really? Feeling lucky, are you?


Sign here, here. Just initial that.


- Thank you.
- OK.


You got a rain advisory today,


and as you all know,
bees cannot fly in rain.


So be careful. As always,
watch your brooms,


hockey sticks, dogs,
birds, bears and bats.


Also, I got a couple of reports
of root beer being poured on us.


Murphy's in a home because of it,
babbling like a cicada!


- That's awful.
- And a reminder for you rookies,


bee law number one,
absolutely no talking to humans!


All right, launch positions!


Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz! Buzz, buzz,
buzz, buzz! Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz!


Black and yellow!


Hello!


You ready for this, hot shot?


Yeah. Yeah, bring it on.


Wind, check.


- Antennae, check.
- Nectar pack, check.


- Wings, check.
- Stinger, check.


Scared out of my shorts, check.


OK, ladies,


let's move it out!


Pound those petunias,
you striped stem-suckers!


All of you, drain those flowers!


Wow! I'm out!


I can't believe I'm out!


So blue.


I feel so fast and free!


Box kite!


Wow!


Flowers!


This is Blue Leader.
We have roses visual.


Bring it around 30 degrees and hold.


Roses!


30 degrees, roger. Bringing it around.


Stand to the side, kid.
It's got a bit of a kick.


That is one nectar collector!


- Ever see pollination up close?
- No, sir.


I pick up some pollen here, sprinkle it
over here. Maybe a dash over there,


a pinch on that one.
See that? It's a little bit of magic.


That's amazing. Why do we do that?


That's pollen power. More pollen, more
flowers, more nectar, more honey for us.


Cool.


I'm picking up a lot of bright yellow.
Could be daisies. Don't we need those?


Copy that visual.


Wait. One of these flowers
seems to be on the move.


Say again? You're reporting
a moving flower?


Affirmative.


That was on the line!


This is the coolest. What is it?


I don't know, but I'm loving this color.


It smells good.
Not like a flower, but I like it.


Yeah, fuzzy.


Chemical-y.


Careful, guys. It's a little grabby.


My sweet lord of bees!


Candy-brain, get off there!


Problem!


- Guys!
- This could be bad.


Affirmative.


Very close.


Gonna hurt.


Mama's little boy.


You are way out of position, rookie!


Coming in at you like a missile!


Help me!


I don't think these are flowers.


- Should we tell him?
- I think he knows.


What is this?!


Match point!


You can start packing up, honey,
because you're about to eat it!


Yowser!


Gross.


There's a bee in the car!


- Do something!
- I'm driving!


- Hi, bee.
- He's back here!


He's going to sting me!


Nobody move. If you don't move,
he won't sting you. Freeze!


He blinked!


Spray him, Granny!


What are you doing?!


Wow... the tension level
out here is unbelievable.


I gotta get home.


Can't fly in rain.


Can't fly in rain.


Can't fly in rain.


Mayday! Mayday! Bee going down!


Ken, could you close
the window please?


Ken, could you close
the window please?


Check out my new resume.
I made it into a fold-out brochure.


You see? Folds out.


Oh, no. More humans. I don't need this.


What was that?


Maybe this time. This time. This time.
This time! This time! This...


Drapes!


That is diabolical.


It's fantastic. It's got all my special
skills, even my top-ten favorite movies.


What's number one? Star Wars?


Nah, I don't go for that...


...kind of stuff.


No wonder we shouldn't talk to them.
They're out of their minds.


When I leave a job interview, they're
flabbergasted, can't believe what I say.


There's the sun. Maybe that's a way out.


I don't remember the sun
having a big 75 on it.


I predicted global warming.


I could feel it getting hotter.
At first I thought it was just me.


Wait! Stop! Bee!


Stand back. These are winter boots.


Wait!


Don't kill him!


You know I'm allergic to them!
This thing could kill me!


Why does his life have
less value than yours?


Why does his life have any less value
than mine? Is that your statement?


I'm just saying all life has value. You
don't know what he's capable of feeling.


My brochure!


There you go, little guy.


I'm not scared of him.
It's an allergic thing.


Put that on your resume brochure.


My whole face could puff up.


Make it one of your special skills.


Knocking someone out
is also a special skill.


Right. Bye, Vanessa. Thanks.


- Vanessa, next week? Yogurt night?
- Sure, Ken. You know, whatever.


- You could put carob chips on there.
- Bye.


- Supposed to be less calories.
- Bye.


I gotta say something.


She saved my life.
I gotta say something.


All right, here it goes.


Nah.


What would I say?


I could really get in trouble.


It's a bee law.
You're not supposed to talk to a human.


I can't believe I'm doing this.


I've got to.


Oh, I can't do it. Come on!


No. Yes. No.


Do it. I can't.


How should I start it?
"You like jazz?" No, that's no good.


Here she comes! Speak, you fool!


Hi!


I'm sorry.


- You're talking.
- Yes, I know.


You're talking!


I'm so sorry.


No, it's OK. It's fine.
I know I'm dreaming.


But I don't recall going to bed.


Well, I'm sure this
is very disconcerting.


This is a bit of a surprise to me.
I mean, you're a bee!


I am. And I'm not supposed
to be doing this,


but they were all trying to kill me.


And if it wasn't for you...


I had to thank you.
It's just how I was raised.


That was a little weird.


- I'm talking with a bee.
- Yeah.


I'm talking to a bee.
And the bee is talking to me!


I just want to say I'm grateful.
I'll leave now.


- Wait! How did you learn to do that?
- What?


The talking thing.


Same way you did, I guess.
"Mama, Dada, honey." You pick it up.


- That's very funny.
- Yeah.


Bees are funny. If we didn't laugh,
we'd cry with what we have to deal with.


Anyway...


Can I...


...get you something?
- Like what?


I don't know. I mean...
I don't know. Coffee?


I don't want to put you out.


It's no trouble. It takes two minutes.


- It's just coffee.
- I hate to impose.


- Don't be ridiculous!
- Actually, I would love a cup.


Hey, you want rum cake?


- I shouldn't.
- Have some.


- No, I can't.
- Come on!


I'm trying to lose a couple micrograms.


- Where?
- These stripes don't help.


You look great!


I don't know if you know
anything about fashion.


Are you all right?


No.


He's making the tie in the cab
as they're flying up Madison.


He finally gets there.


He runs up the steps into the church.
The wedding is on.


And he says, "Watermelon?
I thought you said Guatemalan.


Why would I marry a watermelon?"


Is that a bee joke?


That's the kind of stuff we do.


Yeah, different.


So, what are you gonna do, Barry?


About work? I don't know.


I want to do my part for the hive,
but I can't do it the way they want.


I know how you feel.


- You do?
- Sure.


My parents wanted me to be a lawyer or
a doctor, but I wanted to be a florist.


- Really?
- My only interest is flowers.


Our new queen was just elected
with that same campaign slogan.


Anyway, if you look...


There's my hive right there. See it?


You're in Sheep Meadow!


Yes! I'm right off the Turtle Pond!


No way! I know that area.
I lost a toe ring there once.


- Why do girls put rings on their toes?
- Why not?


- It's like putting a hat on your knee.
- Maybe I'll try that.


- You all right, ma'am?
- Oh, yeah. Fine.


Just having two cups of coffee!


Anyway, this has been great.
Thanks for the coffee.


Yeah, it's no trouble.


Sorry I couldn't finish it. If I did,
I'd be up the rest of my life.


Are you...?


Can I take a piece of this with me?


Sure! Here, have a crumb.


- Thanks!
- Yeah.


All right. Well, then...
I guess I'll see you around.


Or not.


OK, Barry.


And thank you
so much again... for before.


Oh, that? That was nothing.


Well, not nothing, but... Anyway...


This can't possibly work.


He's all set to go.
We may as well try it.


OK, Dave, pull the chute.


- Sounds amazing.
- It was amazing!


It was the scariest,
happiest moment of my life.


Humans! I can't believe
you were with humans!


Giant, scary humans!
What were they like?


Huge and crazy. They talk crazy.


They eat crazy giant things.
They drive crazy.


- Do they try and kill you, like on TV?
- Some of them. But some of them don't.


- How'd you get back?
- Poodle.


You did it, and I'm glad. You saw
whatever you wanted to see.


You had your "experience." Now you
can pick out your job and be normal.


- Well...
- Well?


Well, I met someone.


You did? Was she Bee-ish?


- A wasp?! Your parents will kill you!
- No, no, no, not a wasp.


- Spider?
- I'm not attracted to spiders.


I know it's the hottest thing,
with the eight legs and all.


I can't get by that face.


So who is she?


She's... human.


No, no. That's a bee law.
You wouldn't break a bee law.


- Her name's Vanessa.
- Oh, boy.


She's so nice. And she's a florist!


Oh, no! You're dating a human florist!


We're not dating.


You're flying outside the hive, talking
to humans that attack our homes


with power washers and M-80s!
One-eighth a stick of dynamite!


She saved my life!
And she understands me.


This is over!


Eat this.


This is not over! What was that?


- They call it a crumb.
- It was so stingin' stripey!


And that's not what they eat.
That's what falls off what they eat!


- You know what a Cinnabon is?
- No.


It's bread and cinnamon and frosting.
They heat it up...


Sit down!


...really hot!
- Listen to me!


We are not them! We're us.
There's us and there's them!


Yes, but who can deny
the heart that is yearning?


There's no yearning.
Stop yearning. Listen to me!


You have got to start thinking bee,
my friend. Thinking bee!


- Thinking bee.
- Thinking bee.


Thinking bee! Thinking bee!
Thinking bee! Thinking bee!


There he is. He's in the pool.


You know what your problem is, Barry?


I gotta start thinking bee?


How much longer will this go on?


It's been three days!
Why aren't you working?


I've got a lot of big life decisions
to think about.


What life? You have no life!
You have no job. You're barely a bee!


Would it kill you
to make a little honey?


Barry, come out.
Your father's talking to you.


Martin, would you talk to him?


Barry, I'm talking to you!


You coming?


Got everything?


All set!


Go ahead. I'll catch up.


Don't be too long.


Watch this!


Vanessa!


- We're still here.
- I told you not to yell at him.


He doesn't respond to yelling!


- Then why yell at me?
- Because you don't listen!


I'm not listening to this.


Sorry, I've gotta go.


- Where are you going?
- I'm meeting a friend.


A girl? Is this why you can't decide?


Bye.


I just hope she's Bee-ish.


They have a huge parade
of flowers every year in Pasadena?


To be in the Tournament of Roses,
that's every florist's dream!


Up on a float, surrounded
by flowers, crowds cheering.


A tournament. Do the roses
compete in athletic events?


No. All right, I've got one.
How come you don't fly everywhere?


It's exhausting. Why don't you
run everywhere? It's faster.


Yeah, OK, I see, I see.
All right, your turn.


TiVo. You can just freeze live TV?
That's insane!


You don't have that?


We have Hivo, but it's a disease.
It's a horrible, horrible disease.


Oh, my.


Dumb bees!


You must want to sting all those jerks.


We try not to sting.
It's usually fatal for us.


So you have to watch your temper.


Very carefully.
You kick a wall, take a walk,


write an angry letter and throw it out.
Work through it like any emotion:


Anger, jealousy, lust.


Oh, my goodness! Are you OK?


Yeah.


- What is wrong with you?!
- It's a bug.


He's not bothering anybody.
Get out of here, you creep!


What was that? A Pic 'N' Save circular?


Yeah, it was. How did you know?


It felt like about 10 pages.
Seventy-five is pretty much our limit.


You've really got that
down to a science.


- I lost a cousin to Italian Vogue.
- I'll bet.


What in the name
of Mighty Hercules is this?


How did this get here?
Cute Bee, Golden Blossom,


Ray Liotta Private Select?


- Is he that actor?
- I never heard of him.


- Why is this here?
- For people. We eat it.


You don't have
enough food of your own?


- Well, yes.
- How do you get it?


- Bees make it.
- I know who makes it!


And it's hard to make it!


There's heating, cooling, stirring.
You need a whole Krelman thing!


- It's organic.
- It's our-ganic!


It's just honey, Barry.


Just what?!


Bees don't know about this!
This is stealing! A lot of stealing!


You've taken our homes, schools,
hospitals! This is all we have!


And it's on sale?!
I'm getting to the bottom of this.


I'm getting to the bottom
of all of this!


Hey, Hector.


- You almost done?
- Almost.


He is here. I sense it.


Well, I guess I'll go home now


and just leave this nice honey out,
with no one around.


You're busted, box boy!


I knew I heard something.
So you can talk!


I can talk.
And now you'll start talking!


Where you getting the sweet stuff?
Who's your supplier?


I don't understand.
I thought we were friends.


The last thing we want
to do is upset bees!


You're too late! It's ours now!


You, sir, have crossed
the wrong sword!


You, sir, will be lunch
for my iguana, Ignacio!


Where is the honey coming from?


Tell me where!


Honey Farms! It comes from Honey Farms!


Crazy person!


What horrible thing has happened here?


These faces, they never knew
what hit them. And now


they're on the road to nowhere!


Just keep still.


What? You're not dead?


Do I look dead? They will wipe anything
that moves. Where you headed?


To Honey Farms.
I am onto something huge here.


I'm going to Alaska. Moose blood,
crazy stuff. Blows your head off!


I'm going to Tacoma.


- And you?
- He really is dead.


All right.


Uh-oh!


- What is that?!
- Oh, no!


- A wiper! Triple blade!
- Triple blade?


Jump on! It's your only chance, bee!


Why does everything have
to be so doggone clean?!


How much do you people need to see?!


Open your eyes!
Stick your head out the window!


From NPR News in Washington,
I'm Carl Kasell.


But don't kill no more bugs!


- Bee!
- Moose blood guy!!


- You hear something?
- Like what?


Like tiny screaming.


Turn off the radio.


Whassup, bee boy?


Hey, Blood.


Just a row of honey jars,
as far as the eye could see.


Wow!


I assume wherever this truck goes
is where they're getting it.


I mean, that honey's ours.


- Bees hang tight.
- We're all jammed in.


It's a close community.


Not us, man. We on our own.
Every mosquito on his own.


- What if you get in trouble?
- You a mosquito, you in trouble.


Nobody likes us. They just smack.
See a mosquito, smack, smack!


At least you're out in the world.
You must meet girls.


Mosquito girls try to trade up,
get with a moth, dragonfly.


Mosquito girl don't want no mosquito.


You got to be kidding me!


Mooseblood's about to leave
the building! So long, bee!


- Hey, guys!
- Mooseblood!


I knew I'd catch y'all down here.
Did you bring your crazy straw?


We throw it in jars, slap a label on it,
and it's pretty much pure profit.


What is this place?


A bee's got a brain
the size of a pinhead.


They are pinheads!


Pinhead.


- Check out the new smoker.
- Oh, sweet. That's the one you want.


The Thomas 3000!


Smoker?


Ninety puffs a minute, semi-automatic.
Twice the nicotine, all the tar.


A couple breaths of this
knocks them right out.


They make the honey,
and we make the money.


"They make the honey,
and we make the money"?


Oh, my!


What's going on? Are you OK?


Yeah. It doesn't last too long.


Do you know you're
in a fake hive with fake walls?


Our queen was moved here.
We had no choice.


This is your queen?
That's a man in women's clothes!


That's a drag queen!


What is this?


Oh, no!


There's hundreds of them!


Bee honey.


Our honey is being brazenly stolen
on a massive scale!


This is worse than anything bears
have done! I intend to do something.


Oh, Barry, stop.


Who told you humans are taking
our honey? That's a rumor.


Do these look like rumors?


That's a conspiracy theory.
These are obviously doctored photos.


How did you get mixed up in this?


He's been talking to humans.


- What?
- Talking to humans?!


He has a human girlfriend.
And they make out!


Make out? Barry!


We do not.


- You wish you could.
- Whose side are you on?


The bees!


I dated a cricket once in San Antonio.
Those crazy legs kept me up all night.


Barry, this is what you want
to do with your life?


I want to do it for all our lives.
Nobody works harder than bees!


Dad, I remember you
coming home so overworked


your hands were still stirring.
You couldn't stop.


I remember that.


What right do they have to our honey?


We live on two cups a year. They put it
in lip balm for no reason whatsoever!


Even if it's true, what can one bee do?


Sting them where it really hurts.


In the face! The eye!


- That would hurt.
- No.


Up the nose? That's a killer.


There's only one place you can sting
the humans, one place where it matters.


Hive at Five, the hive's only
full-hour action news source.


No more bee beards!


With Bob Bumble at the anchor desk.


Weather with Storm Stinger.


Sports with Buzz Larvi.


And Jeanette Chung.


- Good evening. I'm Bob Bumble.
- And I'm Jeanette Chung.


A tri-county bee, Barry Benson,


intends to sue the human race
for stealing our honey,


packaging it and profiting
from it illegally!


Tomorrow night on Bee Larry King,


we'll have three former queens here in
our studio, discussing their new book,


Classy Ladies,
out this week on Hexagon.


Tonight we're talking to Barry Benson.


Did you ever think, "I'm a kid
from the hive. I can't do this"?


Bees have never been afraid
to change the world.


What about Bee Columbus?
Bee Gandhi? Bejesus?


Where I'm from, we'd never sue humans.


We were thinking
of stickball or candy stores.


How old are you?


The bee community
is supporting you in this case,


which will be the trial
of the bee century.


You know, they have a Larry King
in the human world too.


It's a common name. Next week...


He looks like you and has a show
and suspenders and colored dots...


Next week...


Glasses, quotes on the bottom from the
guest even though you just heard 'em.


Bear Week next week!
They're scary, hairy and here live.


Always leans forward, pointy shoulders,
squinty eyes, very Jewish.


In tennis, you attack
at the point of weakness!


It was my grandmother, Ken. She's 81.


Honey, her backhand's a joke!
I'm not gonna take advantage of that?


Quiet, please.
Actual work going on here.


- Is that that same bee?
- Yes, it is!


I'm helping him sue the human race.


- Hello.
- Hello, bee.


This is Ken.


Yeah, I remember you. Timberland, size
ten and a half. Vibram sole, I believe.


Why does he talk again?


Listen, you better go
'cause we're really busy working.


But it's our yogurt night!


Bye-bye.


Why is yogurt night so difficult?!


You poor thing.
You two have been at this for hours!


Yes, and Adam here
has been a huge help.


- Frosting...
- How many sugars?


Just one. I try not
to use the competition.


So why are you helping me?


Bees have good qualities.


And it takes my mind off the shop.


Instead of flowers, people
are giving balloon bouquets now.


Those are great, if you're three.


And artificial flowers.


- Oh, those just get me psychotic!
- Yeah, me too.


Bent stingers, pointless pollination.


Bees must hate those fake things!


Nothing worse
than a daffodil that's had work done.


Maybe this could make up
for it a little bit.


- This lawsuit's a pretty big deal.
- I guess.


You sure you want to go through with it?


Am I sure? When I'm done with
the humans, they won't be able


to say, "Honey, I'm home,"
without paying a royalty!


It's an incredible scene
here in downtown Manhattan,


where the world anxiously waits,
because for the first time in history,


we will hear for ourselves
if a honeybee can actually speak.


What have we gotten into here, Barry?


It's pretty big, isn't it?


I can't believe how many humans
don't work during the day.


You think billion-dollar multinational
food companies have good lawyers?


Everybody needs to stay
behind the barricade.


- What's the matter?
- I don't know, I just got a chill.


Well, if it isn't the bee team.


You boys work on this?


All rise! The Honorable
Judge Bumbleton presiding.


All right. Case number 4475,


Superior Court of New York,
Barry Bee Benson v. the Honey Industry


is now in session.


Mr. Montgomery, you're representing
the five food companies collectively?


A privilege.


Mr. Benson... you're representing
all the bees of the world?


I'm kidding. Yes, Your Honor,
we're ready to proceed.


Mr. Montgomery,
your opening statement, please.


Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,


my grandmother was a simple woman.


Born on a farm, she believed
it was man's divine right


to benefit from the bounty
of nature God put before us.


If we lived in the topsy-turvy world
Mr. Benson imagines,


just think of what would it mean.


I would have to negotiate
with the silkworm


for the elastic in my britches!


Talking bee!


How do we know this isn't some sort of


holographic motion-picture-capture
Hollywood wizardry?


They could be using laser beams!


Robotics! Ventriloquism!
Cloning! For all we know,


he could be on steroids!


Mr. Benson?


Ladies and gentlemen,
there's no trickery here.


I'm just an ordinary bee.
Honey's pretty important to me.


It's important to all bees.
We invented it!


We make it. And we protect it
with our lives.


Unfortunately, there are
some people in this room


who think they can take it from us


'cause we're the little guys!
I'm hoping that, after this is all over,


you'll see how, by taking our honey,
you not only take everything we have


but everything we are!


I wish he'd dress like that
all the time. So nice!


Call your first witness.


So, Mr. Klauss Vanderhayden
of Honey Farms, big company you have.


I suppose so.


I see you also own
Honeyburton and Honron!


Yes, they provide beekeepers
for our farms.


Beekeeper. I find that
to be a very disturbing term.


I don't imagine you employ
any bee-free-ers, do you?


- No.
- I couldn't hear you.


- No.
- No.


Because you don't free bees.
You keep bees. Not only that,


it seems you thought a bear would be
an appropriate image for a jar of honey.


They're very lovable creatures.


Yogi Bear, Fozzie Bear, Build-A-Bear.


You mean like this?


Bears kill bees!


How'd you like his head crashing
through your living room?!


Biting into your couch!
Spitting out your throw pillows!


OK, that's enough. Take him away.


So, Mr. Sting, thank you for being here.
Your name intrigues me.


- Where have I heard it before?
- I was with a band called The Police.


But you've never been
a police officer, have you?


No, I haven't.


No, you haven't. And so here
we have yet another example


of bee culture casually
stolen by a human


for nothing more than
a prance-about stage name.


Oh, please.


Have you ever been stung, Mr. Sting?


Because I'm feeling
a little stung, Sting.


Or should I say... Mr. Gordon M. Sumner!


That's not his real name?! You idiots!


Mr. Liotta, first,
belated congratulations on


your Emmy win for a guest spot
on ER in 2005.


Thank you. Thank you.


I see from your resume
that you're devilishly handsome


with a churning inner turmoil
that's ready to blow.


I enjoy what I do. Is that a crime?


Not yet it isn't. But is this
what it's come to for you?


Exploiting tiny, helpless bees
so you don't


have to rehearse
your part and learn your lines, sir?


Watch it, Benson!
I could blow right now!


This isn't a goodfella.
This is a badfella!


Why doesn't someone just step on
this creep, and we can all go home?!


- Order in this court!
- You're all thinking it!


Order! Order, I say!


- Say it!
- Mr. Liotta, please sit down!


I think it was awfully nice
of that bear to pitch in like that.


I think the jury's on our side.


Are we doing everything right, legally?


I'm a florist.


Right. Well, here's to a great team.


To a great team!


Well, hello.


- Ken!
- Hello.


I didn't think you were coming.


No, I was just late.
I tried to call, but... the battery.


I didn't want all this to go to waste,
so I called Barry. Luckily, he was free.


Oh, that was lucky.


There's a little left.
I could heat it up.


Yeah, heat it up, sure, whatever.


So I hear you're quite a tennis player.


I'm not much for the game myself.
The ball's a little grabby.


That's where I usually sit.
Right... there.


Ken, Barry was looking at your resume,


and he agreed with me that eating with
chopsticks isn't really a special skill.


You think I don't see what you're doing?


I know how hard it is to find
the rightjob. We have that in common.


Do we?


Bees have 100 percent employment,
but we do jobs like taking the crud out.


That's just what
I was thinking about doing.


Ken, I let Barry borrow your razor
for his fuzz. I hope that was all right.


I'm going to drain the old stinger.


Yeah, you do that.


Look at that.


You know, I've just about had it


with your little mind games.


- What's that?
- Italian Vogue.


Mamma mia, that's a lot of pages.


A lot of ads.


Remember what Van said, why is
your life more valuable than mine?


Funny, I just can't seem to recall that!


I think something stinks in here!


I love the smell of flowers.


How do you like the smell of flames?!


Not as much.


Water bug! Not taking sides!


Ken, I'm wearing a Ohapstick hat!
This is pathetic!


I've got issues!


Well, well, well, a royal flush!


- You're bluffing.
- Am I?


Surf's up, dude!


Poo water!


That bowl is gnarly.


Except for those dirty yellow rings!


Kenneth! What are you doing?!


You know, I don't even like honey!
I don't eat it!


We need to talk!


He's just a little bee!


And he happens to be
the nicest bee I've met in a long time!


Long time? What are you talking about?!
Are there other bugs in your life?


No, but there are other things bugging
me in life. And you're one of them!


Fine! Talking bees, no yogurt night...


My nerves are fried from riding
on this emotional roller coaster!


Goodbye, Ken.


And for your information,


I prefer sugar-free, artificial
sweeteners made by man!


I'm sorry about all that.


I know it's got
an aftertaste! I like it!


I always felt there was some kind
of barrier between Ken and me.


I couldn't overcome it.
Oh, well.


Are you OK for the trial?


I believe Mr. Montgomery
is about out of ideas.


We would like to call
Mr. Barry Benson Bee to the stand.


Good idea! You can really see why he's
considered one of the best lawyers...


Yeah.


Layton, you've
gotta weave some magic


with this jury,
or it's gonna be all over.


Don't worry. The only thing I have
to do to turn this jury around


is to remind them
of what they don't like about bees.


- You got the tweezers?
- Are you allergic?


Only to losing, son. Only to losing.


Mr. Benson Bee, I'll ask you
what I think we'd all like to know.


What exactly is your relationship


to that woman?


We're friends.


- Good friends?
- Yes.


How good? Do you live together?


Wait a minute...


Are you her little...


...bedbug?


I've seen a bee documentary or two.
From what I understand,


doesn't your queen give birth
to all the bee children?


- Yeah, but...
- So those aren't your real parents!


- Oh, Barry...
- Yes, they are!


Hold me back!


You're an illegitimate bee,
aren't you, Benson?


He's denouncing bees!


Don't y'all date your cousins?


- Objection!
- I'm going to pincushion this guy!


Adam, don't! It's what he wants!


Oh, I'm hit!!


Oh, lordy, I am hit!


Order! Order!


The venom! The venom
is coursing through my veins!


I have been felled
by a winged beast of destruction!


You see? You can't treat them
like equals! They're striped savages!


Stinging's the only thing
they know! It's their way!


- Adam, stay with me.
- I can't feel my legs.


What angel of mercy
will come forward to suck the poison


from my heaving buttocks?


I will have order in this court. Order!


Order, please!


The case of the honeybees
versus the human race


took a pointed turn against the bees


yesterday when one of their legal
team stung Layton T. Montgomery.


- Hey, buddy.
- Hey.


- Is there much pain?
- Yeah.


I...


I blew the whole case, didn't I?


It doesn't matter. What matters is
you're alive. You could have died.


I'd be better off dead. Look at me.


They got it from the cafeteria
downstairs, in a tuna sandwich.


Look, there's
a little celery still on it.


What was it like to sting someone?


I can't explain it. It was all...


All adrenaline and then...
and then ecstasy!


All right.


You think it was all a trap?


Of course. I'm sorry.
I flew us right into this.


What were we thinking? Look at us. We're
just a couple of bugs in this world.


What will the humans do to us
if they win?


I don't know.


I hear they put the roaches in motels.
That doesn't sound so bad.


Adam, they check in,
but they don't check out!


Oh, my.


Oould you get a nurse
to close that window?


- Why?
- The smoke.


Bees don't smoke.


Right. Bees don't smoke.


Bees don't smoke!
But some bees are smoking.


That's it! That's our case!


It is? It's not over?


Get dressed. I've gotta go somewhere.


Get back to the court and stall.
Stall any way you can.


And assuming you've done step correctly, you're ready for the tub.


Mr. Flayman.


Yes? Yes, Your Honor!


Where is the rest of your team?


Well, Your Honor, it's interesting.


Bees are trained to fly haphazardly,


and as a result,
we don't make very good time.


I actually heard a funny story about...


Your Honor,
haven't these ridiculous bugs


taken up enough
of this court's valuable time?


How much longer will we allow
these absurd shenanigans to go on?


They have presented no compelling
evidence to support their charges


against my clients,
who run legitimate businesses.


I move for a complete dismissal
of this entire case!


Mr. Flayman, I'm afraid I'm going


to have to consider
Mr. Montgomery's motion.


But you can't! We have a terrific case.


Where is your proof?
Where is the evidence?


Show me the smoking gun!


Hold it, Your Honor!
You want a smoking gun?


Here is your smoking gun.


What is that?


It's a bee smoker!


What, this?
This harmless little contraption?


This couldn't hurt a fly,
let alone a bee.


Look at what has happened


to bees who have never been asked,
"Smoking or non?"


Is this what nature intended for us?


To be forcibly addicted
to smoke machines


and man-made wooden slat work camps?


Living out our lives as honey slaves
to the white man?


- What are we gonna do?
- He's playing the species card.


Ladies and gentlemen, please,
free these bees!


Free the bees! Free the bees!


Free the bees!


Free the bees! Free the bees!


The court finds in favor of the bees!


Vanessa, we won!


I knew you could do it! High-five!


Sorry.


I'm OK! You know what this means?


All the honey
will finally belong to the bees.


Now we won't have
to work so hard all the time.


This is an unholy perversion
of the balance of nature, Benson.


You'll regret this.


Barry, how much honey is out there?


All right. One at a time.


Barry, who are you wearing?


My sweater is Ralph Lauren,
and I have no pants.


- What if Montgomery's right?
- What do you mean?


We've been living the bee way
a long time, 27 million years.


Oongratulations on your victory.
What will you demand as a settlement?


First, we'll demand a complete shutdown
of all bee work camps.


Then we want back the honey
that was ours to begin with,


every last drop.


We demand an end to the glorification
of the bear as anything more


than a filthy, smelly,
bad-breath stink machine.


We're all aware
of what they do in the woods.


Wait for my signal.


Take him out.


He'll have nauseous
for a few hours, then he'll be fine.


And we will no longer tolerate
bee-negative nicknames...


But it's just a prance-about stage name!


...unnecessary inclusion of honey
in bogus health products


and la-dee-da human
tea-time snack garnishments.


Oan't breathe.


Bring it in, boys!


Hold it right there! Good.


Tap it.


Mr. Buzzwell, we just passed three cups,
and there's gallons more coming!


- I think we need to shut down!
- Shut down? We've never shut down.


Shut down honey production!


Stop making honey!


Turn your key, sir!


What do we do now?


Oannonball!


We're shutting honey production!


Mission abort.


Aborting pollination and nectar detail.
Returning to base.


Adam, you wouldn't believe
how much honey was out there.


Oh, yeah?


What's going on? Where is everybody?


- Are they out celebrating?
- They're home.


They don't know what to do.
Laying out, sleeping in.


I heard your Uncle Oarl was on his way
to San Antonio with a cricket.


At least we got our honey back.


Sometimes I think, so what if humans
liked our honey? Who wouldn't?


It's the greatest thing in the world!
I was excited to be part of making it.


This was my new desk. This was my
new job. I wanted to do it really well.


And now...


Now I can't.


I don't understand
why they're not happy.


I thought their lives would be better!


They're doing nothing. It's amazing.
Honey really changes people.


You don't have any idea
what's going on, do you?


- What did you want to show me?
- This.


What happened here?


That is not the half of it.


Oh, no. Oh, my.


They're all wilting.


Doesn't look very good, does it?


No.


And whose fault do you think that is?


You know, I'm gonna guess bees.


Bees?


Specifically, me.


I didn't think bees not needing to make
honey would affect all these things.


It's notjust flowers.
Fruits, vegetables, they all need bees.


That's our whole SAT test right there.


Take away produce, that affects
the entire animal kingdom.


And then, of course...


The human species?


So if there's no more pollination,


it could all just go south here,
couldn't it?


I know this is also partly my fault.


How about a suicide pact?


How do we do it?


- I'll sting you, you step on me.
- Thatjust kills you twice.


Right, right.


Listen, Barry...
sorry, but I gotta get going.


I had to open my mouth and talk.


Vanessa?


Vanessa? Why are you leaving?
Where are you going?


To the final Tournament of Roses parade
in Pasadena.


They've moved it to this weekend
because all the flowers are dying.


It's the last chance
I'll ever have to see it.


Vanessa, I just wanna say I'm sorry.
I never meant it to turn out like this.


I know. Me neither.


Tournament of Roses.
Roses can't do sports.


Wait a minute. Roses. Roses?


Roses!


Vanessa!


Roses?!


Barry?


- Roses are flowers!
- Yes, they are.


Flowers, bees, pollen!


I know.
That's why this is the last parade.


Maybe not.
Oould you ask him to slow down?


Oould you slow down?


Barry!


OK, I made a huge mistake.
This is a total disaster, all my fault.


Yes, it kind of is.


I've ruined the planet.
I wanted to help you


with the flower shop.
I've made it worse.


Actually, it's completely closed down.


I thought maybe you were remodeling.


But I have another idea, and it's
greater than my previous ideas combined.


I don't want to hear it!


All right, they have the roses,
the roses have the pollen.


I know every bee, plant
and flower bud in this park.


All we gotta do is get what they've got
back here with what we've got.


- Bees.
- Park.


- Pollen!
- Flowers.


- Repollination!
- Across the nation!


Tournament of Roses,
Pasadena, California.


They've got nothing
but flowers, floats and cotton candy.


Security will be tight.


I have an idea.


Vanessa Bloome, FTD.


Official floral business. It's real.


Sorry, ma'am. Nice brooch.


Thank you. It was a gift.


Once inside,
we just pick the right float.


How about The Princess and the Pea?


I could be the princess,
and you could be the pea!


Yes, I got it.


- Where should I sit?
- What are you?


- I believe I'm the pea.
- The pea?


It goes under the mattresses.


- Not in this fairy tale, sweetheart.
- I'm getting the marshal.


You do that!
This whole parade is a fiasco!


Let's see what this baby'll do.


Hey, what are you doing?!


Then all we do
is blend in with traffic...


...without arousing suspicion.


Once at the airport,
there's no stopping us.


Stop! Security.


- You and your insect pack your float?
- Yes.


Has it been
in your possession the entire time?


Would you remove your shoes?


- Remove your stinger.
- It's part of me.


I know. Just having some fun.
Enjoy your flight.


Then if we're lucky, we'll have
just enough pollen to do the job.


Can you believe how lucky we are? We
have just enough pollen to do the job!


I think this is gonna work.


It's got to work.


Attention, passengers,
this is Captain Scott.


We have a bit of bad weather
in New York.


It looks like we'll experience
a couple hours delay.


Barry, these are cut flowers
with no water. They'll never make it.


I gotta get up there
and talk to them.


Be careful.


Can I get help
with the Sky Mall magazine?


I'd like to order the talking
inflatable nose and ear hair trimmer.


Captain, I'm in a real situation.


- What'd you say, Hal?
- Nothing.


Bee!


Don't freak out! My entire species...


What are you doing?


- Wait a minute! I'm an attorney!
- Who's an attorney?


Don't move.


Oh, Barry.


Good afternoon, passengers.
This is your captain.


Would a Miss Vanessa Bloome in 24B
please report to the cockpit?


And please hurry!


What happened here?


There was a DustBuster,
a toupee, a life raft exploded.


One's bald, one's in a boat,
they're both unconscious!


- Is that another bee joke?
- No!


No one's flying the plane!


This is JFK control tower, Flight 356.
What's your status?


This is Vanessa Bloome.
I'm a florist from New York.


Where's the pilot?


He's unconscious,
and so is the copilot.


Not good. Does anyone onboard
have flight experience?


As a matter of fact, there is.


- Who's that?
- Barry Benson.


From the honey trial?! Oh, great.


Vanessa, this is nothing more
than a big metal bee.


It's got giant wings, huge engines.


I can't fly a plane.


- Why not? Isn't John Travolta a pilot?
- Yes.


How hard could it be?


Wait, Barry!
We're headed into some lightning.


This is Bob Bumble. We have some
late-breaking news from JFK Airport,


where a suspenseful scene
is developing.


Barry Benson,
fresh from his legal victory...


That's Barry!


...is attempting to land a plane,
loaded with people, flowers


and an incapacitated flight crew.


Flowers?!


We have a storm in the area
and two individuals at the controls


with absolutely no flight experience.


Just a minute.
There's a bee on that plane.


I'm quite familiar with Mr. Benson
and his no-account compadres.


They've done enough damage.


But isn't he your only hope?


Technically, a bee
shouldn't be able to fly at all.


Their wings are too small...


Haven't we heard this a million times?


"The surface area of the wings
and body mass make no sense."


- Get this on the air!
- Got it.


- Stand by.
- We're going live.


The way we work may be a mystery to you.


Making honey takes a lot of bees
doing a lot of small jobs.


But let me tell you about a small job.


If you do it well,
it makes a big difference.


More than we realized.
To us, to everyone.


That's why I want to get bees
back to working together.


That's the bee way!
We're not made of Jell-O.


We get behind a fellow.


- Black and yellow!
- Hello!


Left, right, down, hover.


- Hover?
- Forget hover.


This isn't so hard.
Beep-beep! Beep-beep!


Barry, what happened?!


Wait, I think we were
on autopilot the whole time.


- That may have been helping me.
- And now we're not!


So it turns out I cannot fly a plane.


All of you, let's get
behind this fellow! Move it out!


Move out!


Our only chance is if I do what I'd do,
you copy me with the wings of the plane!


Don't have to yell.


I'm not yelling!
We're in a lot of trouble.


It's very hard to concentrate
with that panicky tone in your voice!


It's not a tone. I'm panicking!


I can't do this!


Vanessa, pull yourself together.
You have to snap out of it!


You snap out of it.


You snap out of it.


- You snap out of it!
- You snap out of it!


- You snap out of it!
- You snap out of it!


- You snap out of it!
- You snap out of it!


- Hold it!
- Why? Come on, it's my turn.


How is the plane flying?


I don't know.


Hello?


Benson, got any flowers
for a happy occasion in there?


The Pollen Jocks!


They do get behind a fellow.


- Black and yellow.
- Hello.


All right, let's drop this tin can
on the blacktop.


Where? I can't see anything. Can you?


No, nothing. It's all cloudy.


Come on. You got to think bee, Barry.


- Thinking bee.
- Thinking bee.


Thinking bee!
Thinking bee! Thinking bee!


Wait a minute.
I think I'm feeling something.


- What?
- I don't know. It's strong, pulling me.


Like a 27-million-year-old instinct.


Bring the nose down.


Thinking bee!
Thinking bee! Thinking bee!


- What in the world is on the tarmac?
- Get some lights on that!


Thinking bee!
Thinking bee! Thinking bee!


- Vanessa, aim for the flower.
- OK.


Out the engines. We're going in
on bee power. Ready, boys?


Affirmative!


Good. Good. Easy, now. That's it.


Land on that flower!


Ready? Full reverse!


Spin it around!


- Not that flower! The other one!
- Which one?


- That flower.
- I'm aiming at the flower!


That's a fat guy in a flowered shirt.
I mean the giant pulsating flower


made of millions of bees!


Pull forward. Nose down. Tail up.


Rotate around it.


- This is insane, Barry!
- This's the only way I know how to fly.


Am I koo-koo-kachoo, or is this plane
flying in an insect-like pattern?


Get your nose in there. Don't be afraid.
Smell it. Full reverse!


Just drop it. Be a part of it.


Aim for the center!


Now drop it in! Drop it in, woman!


Come on, already.


Barry, we did it!
You taught me how to fly!


- Yes. No high-five!
- Right.


Barry, it worked!
Did you see the giant flower?


What giant flower? Where? Of course
I saw the flower! That was genius!


- Thank you.
- But we're not done yet.


Listen, everyone!


This runway is covered
with the last pollen


from the last flowers
available anywhere on Earth.


That means this is our last chance.


We're the only ones who make honey,
pollinate flowers and dress like this.


If we're gonna survive as a species,
this is our moment! What do you say?


Are we going to be bees, or just
Museum of Natural History keychains?


We're bees!


Keychain!


Then follow me! Except Keychain.


Hold on, Barry. Here.


You've earned this.


Yeah!


I'm a Pollen Jock! And it's a perfect
fit. All I gotta do are the sleeves.


Oh, yeah.


That's our Barry.


Mom! The bees are back!


If anybody needs
to make a call, now's the time.


I got a feeling we'll be
working late tonight!


Here's your change. Have a great
afternoon! Can I help who's next?


Would you like some honey with that?
It is bee-approved. Don't forget these.


Milk, cream, cheese, it's all me.
And I don't see a nickel!


Sometimes I just feel
like a piece of meat!


I had no idea.


Barry, I'm sorry.
Have you got a moment?


Would you excuse me?
My mosquito associate will help you.


Sorry I'm late.


He's a lawyer too?


I was already a blood-sucking parasite.
All I needed was a briefcase.


Have a great afternoon!


Barry, I just got this huge tulip order,
and I can't get them anywhere.


No problem, Vannie.
Just leave it to me.


You're a lifesaver, Barry.
Can I help who's next?


All right, scramble, jocks!
It's time to fly.


Thank you, Barry!


That bee is living my life!


Let it go, Kenny.


- When will this nightmare end?!
- Let it all go.


- Beautiful day to fly.
- Sure is.


Between you and me,
I was dying to get out of that office.


You have got
to start thinking bee, my friend.


- Thinking bee!
- Me?


Hold it. Let's just stop
for a second. Hold it.


I'm sorry. I'm sorry, everyone.
Can we stop here?


I'm not making a major life decision
during a production number!


All right. Take ten, everybody.
Wrap it up, guys.


I had virtually no rehearsal for that.
Hidden 7 yrs ago Post by Gutshot
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B Words - Words Starting With B

Now and again, solving crossword puzzles can seem more frustrating than fun. For those times, our list of words starting with B is sure to come in handy.

Helping you to find the missing answers that you need for your own puzzles, it’s also useful for players of other similar word games such as Scrabble.

You can work your way through our list of B words below to find the ones that you require.

Filter B Words By Letter

B#BABBBCBDBEBHBIBJBKBLBMBNBOBPBRBSBTBUBVBWBY
Popular Words Starting with B

7 Letter B Words

Word Scrabble® Points Words with Friends® Points
buzzsaw
30 32
buzzard
28 30
buzzing
28 32
bezzant
27 29
buzzers
27 29
bezique
27 29
boxxing
24 27
blowzed
22 24
bazooka
22 23
boxfish
22 22
benzyls
21 23
byzants
21 22
benzoyl
21 23
blowjob
21 26
bryozoa
21 21
buxomly
21 24
bromize
20 22
boxwood
20 21
benzoic
20 23
boxlike
20 22
buyback
20 23
bajocco
20 25
bozeman
20 23
bishkek
20 20
boramez
20 22
bawcock
20 23
bedazed
20 21
breakax
20 21
baptize
20 22
bostryx
19 19

6 Letter B Words

Word Scrabble® Points Words with Friends® Points
buzzed
27 29
buzzes
26 28
buzzer
26 28
bezzle
26 28
boxxed
23 24
blowzy
23 24
bijoux
22 26
banjax
22 26
bombyx
22 24
byzant
20 21
blowze
20 22
breezy
20 20
benzyl
20 22
bronzy
20 21
bemaze
19 21
balzac
19 22
bombax
19 22
boxful
18 21
blazed
18 20
bywork
18 18
bhajan
18 21
bedaze
18 19
brazed
18 19
bayeux
18 19
boozed
18 19
boxcar
17 19
benzal
17 20
benzol
17 20
blocky
17 19
breeze
17 18

5 Letter B Words

Word Scrabble® Points Words with Friends® Points
buzzs
25 27
boozy
19 19
bayze
19 19
bhaji
17 19
braxy
17 17
brize
16 17
burqa
16 18
bizet
16 17
bizes
16 17
baize
16 17
bazar
16 17
braze
16 17
bozos
16 17
baiza
16 17
booze
16 17
bezel
16 18
buffy
16 17
baffy
16 16
blaze
16 18
buxom
16 19
blitz
16 18
bonze
16 18
breiz
16 17
byway
16 15
boxed
15 16
bekah
14 14
bubby
14 17
buxus
14 17
beaux
14 16
baccy
14 16

4 Letter B Words

Word Scrabble® Points Words with Friends® Points
buzz
24 26
boxy
16 16
bizs
15 16
boza
15 16
bize
15 16
bozo
15 16
benz
15 17
batz
15 16
baja
13 16
bikh
13 13
bevy
12 13
buff
12 14
biff
12 13
buck
12 15
bock
12 14
baff
12 13
back
12 14
beck
12 14
baby
11 12
bach
11 12
bumf
11 14
byrd
10 10
beak
10 11
bonk
10 12
bomb
10 13
body
10 10
bilk
10 12
bulk
10 13
balk
10 12
berk
10 11

3 Letter B Words

Word Scrabble® Points Words with Friends® Points
biz
14 15
buz
14 16
boz
14 15
bja
12 15
bjs
12 15
box
12 13
bph
10 11
bmw
10 12
bpm
9 12
bvd
9 11
bwr
8 9
bah
8 8
boy
8 8
bey
8 8
bow
8 9
buy
8 9
bye
8 8
bay
8 8
bib
7 9
bab
7 9
bce
7 9
bop
7 9
bbs
7 9
bmr
7 9
bbl
7 10
bap
7 9
bub
7 10
bmi
7 9
bpi
7 9
bom
7 9

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Hidden 7 yrs ago Post by Didgeridont
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1. The Three Metamorphoses

THREE metamorphoses of the spirit do I designate to you: how the
spirit becometh a camel, the camel a lion, and the lion at last a
child.
Many heavy things are there for the spirit, the strong
load-bearing spirit in which reverence dwelleth: for the heavy and the
heaviest longeth its strength.
What is heavy? so asketh the load-bearing spirit; then kneeleth it
down like the camel, and wanteth to be well laden.
What is the heaviest thing, ye heroes? asketh the load-bearing
spirit, that I may take it upon me and rejoice in my strength.
Is it not this: To humiliate oneself in order to mortify one's
pride? To exhibit one's folly in order to mock at one's wisdom?
Or is it this: To desert our cause when it celebrateth its
triumph? To ascend high mountains to tempt the tempter?
Or is it this: To feed on the acorns and grass of knowledge, and for
the sake of truth to suffer hunger of soul?
Or is it this: To be sick and dismiss comforters, and make friends
of the deaf, who never hear thy requests?
Or is it this: To go into foul water when it is the water of
truth, and not disclaim cold frogs and hot toads?
Or is it this: To love those who despise us, and give one's hand
to the phantom when it is going to frighten us?
All these heaviest things the load-bearing spirit taketh upon
itself: and like the camel, which, when laden, hasteneth into the
wilderness, so hasteneth the spirit into its wilderness.
But in the loneliest wilderness happeneth the second
metamorphosis: here the spirit becometh a lion; freedom will it
capture, and lordship in its own wilderness.
Its last Lord it here seeketh: hostile will it be to him, and to its
last God; for victory will it struggle with the great dragon.
What is the great dragon which the spirit is no longer inclined to
call Lord and God? "Thou-shalt," is the great dragon called. But the
spirit of the lion saith, "I will."
"Thou-shalt," lieth in its path, sparkling with gold- a
scale-covered beast; and on every scale glittereth golden, "Thou
shalt!"
The values of a thousand years glitter on those scales, and thus
speaketh the mightiest of all dragons: "All the values of things-
glitter on me.
All values have already been created, and all created values- do I
represent. Verily, there shall be no 'I will' any more. Thus
speaketh the dragon.
My brethren, wherefore is there need of the lion in the spirit?
Why sufficeth not the beast of burden, which renounceth and is
reverent?
To create new values- that, even the lion cannot yet accomplish: but
to create itself freedom for new creating- that can the might of the
lion do.
To create itself freedom, and give a holy Nay even unto duty: for
that, my brethren, there is need of the lion.
To assume the ride to new values- that is the most formidable
assumption for a load-bearing and reverent spirit. Verily, unto such a
spirit it is preying, and the work of a beast of prey.
As its holiest, it once loved "Thou-shalt": now is it forced to find
illusion and arbitrariness even in the holiest things, that it may
capture freedom from its love: the lion is needed for this capture.
But tell me, my brethren, what the child can do, which even the lion
could not do? Why hath the preying lion still to become a child?
Innocence is the child, and forgetfulness, a new beginning, a
game, a self-rolling wheel, a first movement, a holy Yea.
Aye, for the game of creating, my brethren, there is needed a holy
Yea unto life: its own will, willeth now the spirit; his own world
winneth the world's outcast.
Three metamorphoses of the spirit have I designated to you: how
the spirit became a camel, the camel a lion, and the lion at last a
child.-

Thus spake Zarathustra. And at that time he abode in the town
which is called The Pied Cow.
2. The Academic Chairs of Virtue

PEOPLE commended unto Zarathustra a wise man, as one who could
discourse well about sleep and virtue: greatly was he honoured and
rewarded for it, and all the youths sat before his chair. To him
went Zarathustra, and sat among the youths before his chair. And
thus spake the wise man:
Respect and modesty in presence of sleep! That is the first thing!
And to go out of the way of all who sleep badly and keep awake at
night!
Modest is even the thief in presence of sleep: he always stealeth
softly through the night. Immodest, however, is the night-watchman;
immodestly he carrieth his horn.
No small art is it to sleep: it is necessary for that purpose to
keep awake all day.
Ten times a day must thou overcome thyself: that causeth wholesome
weariness, and is poppy to the soul.
Ten times must thou reconcile again with thyself; for overcoming
is bitterness, and badly sleep the unreconciled.
Ten truths must thou find during the day; otherwise wilt thou seek
truth during the night, and thy soul will have been hungry.
Ten times must thou laugh during the day, and be cheerful; otherwise
thy stomach, the father of affliction, will disturb thee in the night.
Few people know it, but one must have all the virtues in order to
sleep well. Shall I bear false witness? Shall I commit adultery?
Shall I covet my neighbour's maidservant? All that would ill
accord with good sleep.
And even if one have all the virtues, there is still one thing
needful: to send the virtues themselves to sleep at the right time.
That they may not quarrel with one another, the good females! And
about thee, thou unhappy one!
Peace with God and thy neighbour: so desireth good sleep. And
peace also with thy neighbour's devil! Otherwise it will haunt thee in
the night.
Honour to the government, and obedience, and also to the crooked
government! So desireth good sleep. How can I help it, if power liketh
to walk on crooked legs?
He who leadeth his sheep to the greenest pasture, shall always be
for me the best shepherd: so doth it accord with good sleep.
Many honours I want not, nor great treasures: they excite the
spleen. But it is bad sleeping without a good name and a little
treasure.
A small company is more welcome to me than a bad one: but they
must come and go at the right time. So doth it accord with good sleep.
Well, also, do the poor in spirit please me: they promote sleep.
Blessed are they, especially if one always give in to them.
Thus passeth the day unto the virtuous. When night cometh, then take
I good care not to summon sleep. It disliketh to be summoned- sleep,
the lord of the virtues!
But I think of what I have done and thought during the day. Thus
ruminating, patient as a cow, I ask myself: What were thy ten
overcomings?
And what were the ten reconciliations, and the ten truths, and the
ten laughters with which my heart enjoyed itself?
Thus pondering, and cradled by forty thoughts, it overtaketh me
all at once- sleep, the unsummoned, the lord of the virtues.
Sleep tappeth on mine eye, and it turneth heavy. Sleep toucheth my
mouth, and it remaineth open.
Verily, on soft soles doth it come to me, the dearest of thieves,
and stealeth from me my thoughts: stupid do I then stand, like this
academic chair.
But not much longer do I then stand: I already lie.-
When Zarathustra heard the wise man thus speak, he laughed in his
heart: for thereby had a light dawned upon him. And thus spake he to
his heart:
A fool seemeth this wise man with his forty thoughts: but I
believe he knoweth well how to sleep.
Happy even is he who liveth near this wise man! Such sleep is
contagious- even through a thick wall it is contagious.
A magic resideth even in his academic chair. And not in vain did the
youths sit before the preacher of virtue.
His wisdom is to keep awake in order to sleep well. And verily, if
life had no sense, and had I to choose nonsense, this would be the
desirablest nonsense for me also.
Now know I well what people sought formerly above all else when they
sought teachers of virtue. Good sleep they sought for themselves,
and poppy-head virtues to promote it!
To all those belauded sages of the academic chairs, wisdom was sleep
without dreams: they knew no higher significance of life.
Even at present, to be sure, there are some like this preacher of
virtue, and not always so honourable: but their time is past. And
not much longer do they stand: there they already lie.
Blessed are those drowsy ones: for they shall soon nod to sleep.-

Thus spake Zarathustra.
3. Backworldsmen

ONCE on a time, Zarathustra also cast his fancy beyond man, like all
backworldsmen. The work of a suffering and tortured God, did the world
then seem to me.
The dream- and diction- of a God, did the world then seem to me;
coloured vapours before the eyes of a divinely dissatisfied one.
Good and evil, and joy and woe, and I and thou- coloured vapours did
they seem to me before creative eyes. The creator wished to look
away from himself,- thereupon he created the world.
Intoxicating joy is it for the sufferer to look away from his
suffering and forget himself. Intoxicating joy and self-forgetting,
did the world once seem to me.
This world, the eternally imperfect, an eternal contradiction's
image and imperfect image- an intoxicating joy to its imperfect
creator:- thus did the world once seem to me.
Thus, once on a time, did I also cast my fancy beyond man, like
all backworldsmen. Beyond man, forsooth?
Ah, ye brethren, that God whom I created was human work and human
madness, like all the gods!
A man was he, and only a poor fragment of a man and ego. Out of mine
own ashes and glow it came unto me, that phantom. And verily, it
came not unto me from the beyond!
What happened, my brethren? I surpassed myself, the suffering one; I
carried mine own ashes to the mountain; a brighter flame I contrived
for myself. And lo! Thereupon the phantom withdrew from me!
To me the convalescent would it now be suffering and torment to
believe in such phantoms: suffering would it now be to me, and
humiliation. Thus speak I to backworldsmen.
Suffering was it, and impotence- that created all backworlds; and
the short madness of happiness, which only the greatest sufferer
experienceth.
Weariness, which seeketh to get to the ultimate with one leap,
with a death-leap; a poor ignorant weariness, unwilling even to will
any longer: that created all gods and backworlds.
Believe me, my brethren! It was the body which despaired of the
body- it groped with the fingers of the infatuated spirit at the
ultimate walls.
Believe me, my brethren! It was the body which despaired of the
earth- it heard the bowels of existence speaking unto it.
And then it sought to get through the ultimate walls with its
head- and not with its head only- into "the other world."
But that "other world" is well concealed from man, that dehumanised,
inhuman world, which is a celestial naught; and the bowels of
existence do not speak unto man, except as man.
Verily, it is difficult to prove all being, and hard to make it
speak. Tell me, ye brethren, is not the strangest of all things best
proved?
Yea, this ego, with its contradiction and perplexity, speaketh
most uprightly of its being- this creating, willing, evaluing ego,
which is the measure and value of things.
And this most upright existence, the ego- it speaketh of the body,
and still implieth the body, even when it museth and raveth and
fluttereth with broken wings.
Always more uprightly learneth it to speak, the ego; and the more it
learneth, the more doth it find titles, and honours for the body and
the earth.
A new pride taught me mine ego, and that teach I unto men: no longer
to thrust one's head into the sand of celestial things, but to carry
it freely, a terrestrial head, which giveth meaning to the earth!
A new will teach I unto men: to choose that path which man hath
followed blindly, and to approve of it- and no longer to slink aside
from it, like the sick and perishing!
The sick and perishing- it was they who despised the body and the
earth, and invented the heavenly world, and the redeeming blood-drops;
but even those sweet and sad poisons they borrowed from the body and
the earth!
From their misery they sought escape, and the stars were too
remote for them. Then they sighed: "O that there were heavenly paths
by which to steal into another existence and into happiness!" Then
they contrived for themselves their bypaths and bloody draughts!
Beyond the sphere of their body and this earth they now fancied
themselves transported, these ungrateful ones. But to what did they
owe the convulsion and rapture of their transport? To their body and
this earth.
Gentle is Zarathustra to the sickly. Verily, he is not indignant
at their modes of consolation and ingratitude. May they become
convalescents and overcomers, and create higher bodies for themselves!
Neither is Zarathustra indignant at a convalescent who looketh
tenderly on his delusions, and at midnight stealeth round the grave of
his God; but sickness and a sick frame remain even in his tears.
Many sickly ones have there always been among those who muse, and
languish for God; violently they hate the discerning ones, and the
latest of virtues, which is uprightness.
Backward they always gaze toward dark ages: then, indeed, were
delusion and faith something different. Raving of the reason was
likeness to God, and doubt was sin.
Too well do I know those godlike ones: they insist on being believed
in, and that doubt is sin. Too well, also, do I know what they
themselves most believe in.
Verily, not in backworlds and redeeming blood-drops: but in the body
do they also believe most; and their own body is for them the
thing-in-itself.
But it is a sickly thing to them, and gladly would they get out of
their skin. Therefore hearken they to the preachers of death, and
themselves preach backworlds.
Hearken rather, my brethren, to the voice of the healthy body; it is
a more upright and pure voice.
More uprightly and purely speaketh the healthy body, perfect and
square-built; and it speaketh of the meaning of the earth.-

Thus spake Zarathustra.
4. The Despisers of the Body

TO THE despisers of the body will I speak my word. I wish them
neither to learn afresh, nor teach anew, but only to bid farewell to
their own bodies,- and thus be dumb.
"Body am I, and soul"- so saith the child. And why should one not
speak like children?
But the awakened one, the knowing one, saith: "Body am I entirely,
and nothing more; and soul is only the name of something in the body."
The body is a big sagacity, a plurality with one sense, a war and
a peace, a flock and a shepherd.
An instrument of thy body is also thy little sagacity, my brother,
which thou callest "spirit"- a little instrument and plaything of
thy big sagacity.
"Ego," sayest thou, and art proud of that word. But the greater
thing- in which thou art unwilling to believe- is thy body with its
big sagacity; it saith not "ego," but doeth it.
What the sense feeleth, what the spirit discerneth, hath never its
end in itself. But sense and spirit would fain persuade thee that they
are the end of all things: so vain are they.
Instruments and playthings are sense and spirit: behind them there
is still the Self. The Self seeketh with the eyes of the senses, it
hearkeneth also with the ears of the spirit.
Ever hearkeneth the Self, and seeketh; it compareth, mastereth,
conquereth, and destroyeth. It ruleth, and is also the ego's ruler.
Behind thy thoughts and feelings, my brother, there is a mighty
lord, an unknown sage- it is called Self; it dwelleth in thy body,
it is thy body.
There is more sagacity in thy body than in thy best wisdom. And
who then knoweth why thy body requireth just thy best wisdom?
Thy Self laugheth at thine ego, and its proud prancings. "What are
these prancings and flights of thought unto me?" it saith to itself.
"A by-way to my purpose. I am the leading-string of the ego, and the
prompter of its notions."
The Self saith unto the ego: "Feel pain!" And thereupon it
suffereth, and thinketh how it may put an end thereto- and for that
very purpose it is meant to think.
The Self saith unto the ego: "Feel pleasure!" Thereupon it
rejoiceth, and thinketh how it may ofttimes rejoice- and for that very
purpose it is meant to think.
To the despisers of the body will I speak a word. That they
despise is caused by their esteem. What is it that created esteeming
and despising and worth and will?
The creating Self created for itself esteeming and despising, it
created for itself joy and woe. The creating body created for itself
spirit, as a hand to its will.
Even in your folly and despising ye each serve your Self, ye
despisers of the body. I tell you, your very Self wanteth to die,
and turneth away from life.
No longer can your Self do that which it desireth most:- create
beyond itself. That is what it desireth most; that is all its fervour.
But it is now too late to do so:- so your Self wisheth to succumb,
ye despisers of the body.
To succumb- so wisheth your Self; and therefore have ye become
despisers of the body. For ye can no longer create beyond yourselves.
And therefore are ye now angry with life and with the earth. And
unconscious envy is in the sidelong look of your contempt.
I go not your way, ye despisers of the body! Ye are no bridges for
me to the Superman!-

Thus spake Zarathustra.
5. Joys and Passions

MY BROTHER, when thou hast a virtue, and it is thine own virtue,
thou hast it in common with no one.
To be sure, thou wouldst call it by name and caress it; thou wouldst
pull its ears and amuse thyself with it.
And lo! Then hast thou its name in common with the people, and
hast become one of the people and the herd with thy virtue!
Better for thee to say: "Ineffable is it, and nameless, that which
is pain and sweetness to my soul, and also the hunger of my bowels."
Let thy virtue be too high for the familiarity of names, and if thou
must speak of it, be not ashamed to stammer about it.
Thus speak and stammer: "That is my good, that do I love, thus
doth it please me entirely, thus only do I desire the good.
Not as the law of a God do I desire it, not as a human law or a
human need do I desire it; it is not to be a guide-post for me to
superearths and paradises.
An earthly virtue is it which I love: little prudence is therein,
and the least everyday wisdom.
But that bird built its nest beside me: therefore, I love and
cherish it- now sitteth it beside me on its golden eggs."
Thus shouldst thou stammer, and praise thy virtue.
Once hadst thou passions and calledst them evil. But now hast thou
only thy virtues: they grew out of thy passions.
Thou implantedst thy highest aim into the heart of those passions:
then became they thy virtues and joys.
And though thou wert of the race of the hot-tempered, or of the
voluptuous, or of the fanatical, or the vindictive;
All thy passions in the end became virtues, and all thy devils
angels.
Once hadst thou wild dogs in thy cellar: but they changed at last
into birds and charming songstresses.
Out of thy poisons brewedst thou balsam for thyself; thy cow,
affliction, milkedst thou- now drinketh thou the sweet milk of her
udder.
And nothing evil groweth in thee any longer, unless it be the evil
that groweth out of the conflict of thy virtues.
My brother, if thou be fortunate, then wilt thou have one virtue and
no more: thus goest thou easier over the bridge.
Illustrious is it to have many virtues, but a hard lot; and many a
one hath gone into the wilderness and killed himself, because he was
weary of being the battle and battlefield of virtues.
My brother, are war and battle evil? Necessary, however, is the
evil; necessary are the envy and the distrust and the back-biting
among the virtues.
Lo! how each of thy virtues is covetous of the highest place; it
wanteth thy whole spirit to be its herald, it wanteth thy whole power,
in wrath, hatred, and love.
Jealous is every virtue of the others, and a dreadful thing is
jealousy. Even virtues may succumb by jealousy.
He whom the flame of jealousy encompasseth, turneth at last, like
the scorpion, the poisoned sting against himself.
Ah! my brother, hast thou never seen a virtue backbite and stab
itself?
Man is something that hath to be surpassed: and therefore shalt thou
love thy virtues,- for thou wilt succumb by them.-
Thus spake Zarathustra.
6. The Pale Criminal

YE DO not mean to slay, ye judges and sacrificers, until the
animal hath bowed its head? Lo! the pale criminal hath bowed his head:
out of his eye speaketh the great contempt.
"Mine ego is something which is to be surpassed: mine ego is to me
the great contempt of man": so speaketh it out of that eye.
When he judged himself- that was his supreme moment; let not the
exalted one relapse again into his low estate!
There is no salvation for him who thus suffereth from himself,
unless it be speedy death.
Your slaying, ye judges, shall be pity, and not revenge; and in that
ye slay, see to it that ye yourselves justify life!
It is not enough that ye should reconcile with him whom ye slay. Let
your sorrow be love to the Superman: thus will ye justify your own
survival!
"Enemy" shall ye say but not "villain," "invalid" shall ye say but
not "wretch," "fool" shall ye say but not "sinner."
And thou, red judge, if thou would say audibly all thou hast done in
thought, then would every one cry: "Away with the nastiness and the
virulent reptile!"
But one thing is the thought, another thing is the deed, and another
thing is the idea of the deed. The wheel of causality doth not roll
between them.
An idea made this pale man pale. Adequate was he for his deed when
he did it, but the idea of it, he could not endure when it was done.
Evermore did he now see himself as the doer of one deed. Madness,
I call this: the exception reversed itself to the rule in him.
The streak of chalk bewitcheth the hen; the stroke he struck
bewitched his weak reason. Madness after the deed, I call this.
Hearken, ye judges! There is another madness besides, and it is
before the deed. Ah! ye have not gone deep enough into this soul!
Thus speaketh the red judge: "Why did this criminal commit murder?
He meant to rob." I tell you, however, that his soul wanted blood, not
booty: he thirsted for the happiness of the knife!
But his weak reason understood not this madness, and it persuaded
him. "What matter about blood!" it said; "wishest thou not, at
least, to make booty thereby? Or take revenge?"
And he hearkened unto his weak reason: like lead lay its words
upon him- thereupon he robbed when he murdered. He did not mean to
be ashamed of his madness.
And now once more lieth the lead of his guilt upon him, and once
more is his weak reason so benumbed, so paralysed, and so dull.
Could he only shake his head, then would his burden roll off; but
who shaketh that head?
What is this man? A mass of diseases that reach out into the world
through the spirit; there they want to get their prey.
What is this man? A coil of wild serpents that are seldom at peace
among themselves- so they go forth apart and seek prey in the world.
Look at that poor body! What it suffered and craved, the poor soul
interpreted to itself- it interpreted it as murderous desire, and
eagerness for the happiness of the knife.
Him who now turneth sick, the evil overtaketh which is now the evil:
he seeketh to cause pain with that which causeth him pain. But there
have been other ages, and another evil and good.
Once was doubt evil, and the will to Self. Then the invalid became a
heretic or sorcerer; as heretic or sorcerer he suffered, and sought to
cause suffering.
But this will not enter your ears; it hurteth your good people, ye
tell me. But what doth it matter to me about your good people!
Many things in your good people cause me disgust, and verily, not
their evil. I would that they had a madness by which they succumbed,
like this pale criminal!
Verily, I would that their madness were called truth, or fidelity,
or justice: but they have their virtue in order to live long, and in
wretched self-complacency.
I am a railing alongside the torrent; whoever is able to grasp me
may grasp me! Your crutch, however, I am not.-

Thus spake Zarathustra.
7. Reading and Writing

OF ALL that is written, I love only what a person hath written with
his blood. Write with blood, and thou wilt find that blood is spirit.
It is no easy task to understand unfamiliar blood; I hate the
reading idlers.
He who knoweth the reader, doeth nothing more for the reader.
Another century of readers- and spirit itself will stink.
Every one being allowed to learn to read, ruineth in the long run
not only writing but also thinking.
Once spirit was God, then it became man, and now it even becometh
populace.
He that writeth in blood and proverbs doth not want to be read,
but learnt by heart.
In the mountains the shortest way is from peak to peak, but for that
route thou must have long legs. Proverbs should be peaks, and those
spoken to should be big and tall.
The atmosphere rare and pure, danger near and the spirit full of a
joyful wickedness: thus are things well matched.
I want to have goblins about me, for I am courageous. The courage
which scareth away ghosts, createth for itself goblins- it wanteth
to laugh.
I no longer feel in common with you; the very cloud which I see
beneath me, the blackness and heaviness at which I laugh- that is your
thunder-cloud.
Ye look aloft when ye long for exaltation; and I look downward
because I am exalted.
Who among you can at the same time laugh and be exalted?
He who climbeth on the highest mountains, laugheth at all tragic
plays and tragic realities.
Courageous, unconcerned, scornful, coercive- so wisdom wisheth us;
she is a woman, and ever loveth only a warrior.
Ye tell me, "Life is hard to bear." But for what purpose should ye
have your pride in the morning and your resignation in the evening?
Life is hard to bear: but do not affect to be so delicate! We are
all of us fine sumpter asses and she-asses.
What have we in common with the rose-bud, which trembleth because
a drop of dew hath formed upon it?
It is true we love life; not because we are wont to live, but
because we are wont to love.
There is always some madness in love. But there is always, also,
some method in madness.
And to me also, who appreciate life, the butterflies, and
soap-bubbles, and whatever is like them amongst us, seem most to enjoy
happiness.
To see these light, foolish, pretty, lively little sprites flit
about- that moveth Zarathustra to tears and songs.
I should only believe in a God that would know how to dance.
And when I saw my devil, I found him serious, thorough, profound,
solemn: he was the spirit of gravity- through him all things fall.
Not by wrath, but by laughter, do we slay. Come, let us slay the
spirit of gravity!
I learned to walk; since then have I let myself run. I learned to
fly; since then I do not need pushing in order to move from a spot.
Now am I light, now do I fly; now do I see myself under myself.
Now there danceth a God in me.-
Thus spake Zarathustra.
8. The Tree on the Hill

ZARATHUSTRA's eye had perceived that a certain youth avoided him.
And as he walked alone one evening over the hills surrounding the town
called "The Pied Cow," behold, there found he the youth sitting
leaning against a tree, and gazing with wearied look into the
valley. Zarathustra thereupon laid hold of the tree beside which the
youth sat, and spake thus:
"If I wished to shake this tree with my hands, I should not be
able to do so.
But the wind, which we see not, troubleth and bendeth it as it
listeth. We are sorest bent and troubled by invisible hands."
Thereupon the youth arose disconcerted, and said: "I hear
Zarathustra, and just now was I thinking of him!" Zarathustra
answered:
"Why art thou frightened on that account?- But it is the same with
man as with the tree.
The more he seeketh to rise into the height and light, the more
vigorously do his roots struggle earthward, downward, into the dark
and deep- into the evil."
"Yea, into the evil!" cried the youth. "How is it possible that thou
hast discovered my soul?"
Zarathustra smiled, and said: "Many a soul one will never
discover, unless one first invent it."
"Yea, into the evil!" cried the youth once more.
"Thou saidst the truth, Zarathustra. I trust myself no longer
since I sought to rise into the height, and nobody trusteth me any
longer; how doth that happen?
I change too quickly: my to-day refuteth my yesterday. I often
overleap the steps when I clamber; for so doing, none of the steps
pardons me.
When aloft, I find myself always alone. No one speaketh unto me; the
frost of solitude maketh me tremble. What do I seek on the height?
My contempt and my longing increase together; the higher I
clamber, the more do I despise him who clambereth. What doth he seek
on the height?
How ashamed I am of my clambering and stumbling! How I mock at my
violent panting! How I hate him who flieth! How tired I am on the
height!"
Here the youth was silent. And Zarathustra contemplated the tree
beside which they stood, and spake thus:
"This tree standeth lonely here on the hills; it hath grown up
high above man and beast.
And if it wanted to speak, it would have none who could understand
it: so high hath it grown.
Now it waiteth and waiteth,- for what doth it wait? It dwelleth
too close to the seat of the clouds; it waiteth perhaps for the
first lightning?"
When Zarathustra had said this, the youth called out with violent
gestures: "Yea, Zarathustra, thou speakest the truth. My destruction I
longed for, when I desired to be on the height, and thou art the
lightning for which I waited! Lo! what have I been since thou hast
appeared amongst us? It is mine envy of thee that hath destroyed me!"-
Thus spake the youth, and wept bitterly. Zarathustra, however, put his
arm about him, and led the youth away with him.
And when they had walked a while together, Zarathustra began to
speak thus:
It rendeth my heart. Better than thy words express it, thine eyes
tell me all thy danger.
As yet thou art not free; thou still seekest freedom. Too unslept
hath thy seeking made thee, and too wakeful.
On the open height wouldst thou be; for the stars thirsteth thy
soul. But thy bad impulses also thirst for freedom.
Thy wild dogs want liberty; they bark for joy in their cellar when
thy spirit endeavoureth to open all prison doors.
Still art thou a prisoner- it seemeth to me- who deviseth liberty
for himself: ah! sharp becometh the soul of such prisoners, but also
deceitful and wicked.
To purify himself, is still necessary for the freedman of the
spirit. Much of the prison and the mould still remaineth in him:
pure hath his eye still to become.
Yea, I know thy danger. But by my love and hope I conjure thee: cast
not thy love and hope away!
Noble thou feelest thyself still, and noble others also feel thee
still, though they bear thee a grudge and cast evil looks. Know
this, that to everybody a noble one standeth in the way.
Also to the good, a noble one standeth in the way: and even when
they call him a good man, they want thereby to put him aside.
The new, would the noble man create, and a new virtue. The old,
wanteth the good man, and that the old should be conserved.
But it is not the danger of the noble man to turn a good man, but
lest he should become a blusterer, a scoffer, or a destroyer.
Ah! I have known noble ones who lost their highest hope. And then
they disparaged all high hopes.
Then lived they shamelessly in temporary pleasures, and beyond the
day had hardly an aim.
"Spirit is also voluptuousness,"- said they. Then broke the wings of
their spirit; and now it creepeth about, and defileth where it
gnaweth.
Once they thought of becoming heroes; but sensualists are they
now. A trouble and a terror is the hero to them.
But by my love and hope I conjure thee: cast not away the hero in
thy soul! Maintain holy thy highest hope!-

Thus spake Zarathustra.
9. The Preachers of Death

THERE are preachers of death: and the earth is full of those to whom
desistance from life must be preached.
Full is the earth of the superfluous; marred is life by the
many-too-many. May they be decoyed out of this life by the "life
eternal"!
"The yellow ones": so are called the preachers of death, or "the
black ones." But I will show them unto you in other colours besides.
There are the terrible ones who carry about in themselves the
beast of prey, and have no choice except lusts or self-laceration. And
even their lusts are self-laceration.
They have not yet become men, those terrible ones: may they preach
desistance from life, and pass away themselves!
There are the spiritually consumptive ones: hardly are they born
when they begin to die, and long for doctrines of lassitude and
renunciation.
They would fain be dead, and we should approve of their wish! Let us
beware of awakening those dead ones, and of damaging those living
coffins!
They meet an invalid, or an old man, or a corpse- and immediately
they say: "Life is refuted!"
But they only are refuted, and their eye, which seeth only one
aspect of existence.
Shrouded in thick melancholy, and eager for the little casualties
that bring death: thus do they wait, and clench their teeth.
Or else, they grasp at sweetmeats, and mock at their childishness
thereby: they cling to their straw of life, and mock at their still
clinging to it.
Their wisdom speaketh thus: "A fool, he who remaineth alive; but
so far are we fools! And that is the foolishest thing in life!"
"Life is only suffering": so say others, and lie not. Then see to it
that ye cease! See to it that the life ceaseth which is only
suffering!
And let this be the teaching of your virtue: "Thou shalt slay
thyself! Thou shalt steal away from thyself!"-
"Lust is sin,"- so say some who preach death- "let us go apart and
beget no children!"
"Giving birth is troublesome,"- say others- "why still give birth?
One beareth only the unfortunate!" And they also are preachers of
death.
"Pity is necessary,"- so saith a third party. "Take what I have!
Take what I am! So much less doth life bind me!"
Were they consistently pitiful, then would they make their
neighbours sick of life. To be wicked- that would be their true
goodness.
But they want to be rid of life; what care they if they bind
others still faster with their chains and gifts!-
And ye also, to whom life is rough labour and disquiet, are ye not
very tired of life? Are ye not very ripe for the sermon of death?
All ye to whom rough labour is dear, and the rapid, new, and
strange- ye put up with yourselves badly; your diligence is flight,
and the will to self-forgetfulness.
If ye believed more in life, then would ye devote yourselves less to
the momentary. But for waiting, ye have not enough of capacity in you-
nor even for idling!
Everywhere resoundeth the voices of those who preach death; and
the earth is full of those to whom death hath to be preached.
Or "life eternal"; it is all the same to me- if only they pass
away quickly!-

Thus spake Zarathustra.
10. War and Warriors

BY OUR best enemies we do not want to be spared, nor by those either
whom we love from the very heart. So let me tell you the truth!
My brethren in war! I love you from the very heart. I am, and was
ever, your counterpart. And I am also your best enemy. So let me
tell you the truth!
I know the hatred and envy of your hearts. Ye are not great enough
not to know of hatred and envy. Then be great enough not to be ashamed
of them!
And if ye cannot be saints of knowledge, then, I pray you, be at
least its warriors. They are the companions and forerunners of such
saintship.
I see many soldiers; could I but see many warriors! "Uniform" one
calleth what they wear; may it not be uniform what they therewith
hide!
Ye shall be those whose eyes ever seek for an enemy- for your enemy.
And with some of you there is hatred at first sight.
Your enemy shall ye seek; your war shall ye wage, and for the sake
of your thoughts! And if your thoughts succumb, your uprightness shall
still shout triumph thereby!
Ye shall love peace as a means to new wars- and the short peace more
than the long.
You I advise not to work, but to fight. You I advise not to peace,
but to victory. Let your work be a fight, let your peace be a victory!
One can only be silent and sit peacefully when one hath arrow and
bow; otherwise one prateth and quarrelleth. Let your peace be a
victory!
Ye say it is the good cause which halloweth even war? I say unto
you: it is the good war which halloweth every cause.
War and courage have done more great things than charity. Not your
sympathy, but your bravery hath hitherto saved the victims.
"What is good?" ye ask. To be brave is good. Let the little girls
say: "To be good is what is pretty, and at the same time touching."
They call you heartless: but your heart is true, and I love the
bashfulness of your goodwill. Ye are ashamed of your flow, and
others are ashamed of their ebb.
Ye are ugly? Well then, my brethren, take the sublime about you, the
mantle of the ugly!
And when your soul becometh great, then doth it become haughty,
and in your sublimity there is wickedness. I know you.
In wickedness the haughty man and the weakling meet. But they
misunderstand one another. I know you.
Ye shall only have enemies to be hated, but not enemies to be
despised. Ye must be proud of your enemies; then, the successes of
your enemies are also your successes.
Resistance- that is the distinction of the slave. Let your
distinction be obedience. Let your commanding itself be obeying!
To the good warrior soundeth "thou shalt" pleasanter than "I
will." And all that is dear unto you, ye shall first have it commanded
unto you.
Let your love to life be love to your highest hope; and let your
highest hope be the highest thought of life!
Your highest thought, however, ye shall have it commanded unto you
by me- and it is this: man is something that is to be surpassed.
So live your life of obedience and of war! What matter about long
life! What warrior wisheth to be spared!
I spare you not, I love you from my very heart, my brethren in war!-

Thus spake Zarathustra.
11. The New Idol

SOMEWHERE there are still peoples and herds, but not with us, my
brethren: here there are states.
A state? What is that? Well! open now your ears unto me, for now
will I say unto you my word concerning the death of peoples.
A state, is called the coldest of all cold monsters. Coldly lieth it
also; and this lie creepeth from its mouth: "I, the state, am the
people."
It is a lie! Creators were they who created peoples, and hung a
faith and a love over them: thus they served life.
Destroyers, are they who lay snares for many, and call it the state:
they hang a sword and a hundred cravings over them.
Where there is still a people, there the state is not understood,
but hated as the evil eye, and as sin against laws and customs.
This sign I give unto you: every people speaketh its language of
good and evil: this its neighbour understandeth not. Its language hath
it devised for itself in laws and customs.
But the state lieth in all languages of good and evil; and
whatever it saith it lieth; and whatever it hath it hath stolen.
False is everything in it; with stolen teeth it biteth, the biting
one. False are even its bowels.
Confusion of language of good and evil; this sign I give unto you as
the sign of the state. Verily, the will to death, indicateth this
sign! Verily, it beckoneth unto the preachers of death!
Many too many are born: for the superfluous ones was the state
devised!
See just how it enticeth them to it, the many-too-many! How it
swalloweth and cheweth and recheweth them!
"On earth there is nothing greater than I: it is I who am the
regulating finger of God."- thus roareth the monster. And not only the
long-eared and short-sighted fall upon their knees!
Ah! even in your ears, ye great souls, it whispereth its gloomy
lies! Ah! it findeth out the rich hearts which willingly lavish
themselves!
Yea, it findeth you out too, ye conquerors of the old God! Weary
ye became of the conflict, and now your weariness serveth the new
idol!
Heroes and honourable ones, it would fain set up around it, the
new idol! Gladly it basketh in the sunshine of good consciences,-
the cold monster!
Everything will it give you, if ye worship it, the new idol: thus it
purchaseth the lustre of your virtue, and the glance of your proud
eyes.
It seeketh to allure by means of you, the many-too-many! Yea, a
hellish artifice hath here been devised, a death-horse jingling with
the trappings of divine honours!
Yea, a dying for many hath here been devised, which glorifieth
itself as life: verily, a hearty service unto all preachers of death!
The state, I call it, where all are poison-drinkers, the good and
the bad: the state, where all lose themselves, the good and the bad:
the state, where the slow suicide of all- is called "life."
Just see these superfluous ones! They steal the works of the
inventors and the treasures of the wise. Culture, they call their
theft- and everything becometh sickness and trouble unto them!
Just see these superfluous ones! Sick are they always; they vomit
their bile and call it a newspaper. They devour one another, and
cannot even digest themselves.
Just see these superfluous ones! Wealth they acquire and become
poorer thereby. Power they seek for, and above all, the lever of
power, much money- these impotent ones!
See them clamber, these nimble apes! They clamber over one
another, and thus scuffle into the mud and the abyss.
Towards the throne they all strive: it is their madness- as if
happiness sat on the throne! Ofttimes sitteth filth on the throne.-
and ofttimes also the throne on filth.
Madmen they all seem to me, and clambering apes, and too eager.
Badly smelleth their idol to me, the cold monster: badly they all
smell to me, these idolaters.
My brethren, will ye suffocate in the fumes of their maws and
appetites! Better break the windows and jump into the open air!
Do go out of the way of the bad odour! Withdraw from the idolatry of
the superfluous!
Do go out of the way of the bad odour! Withdraw from the steam of
these human sacrifices!
Open still remaineth the earth for great souls. Empty are still many
sites for lone ones and twain ones, around which floateth the odour of
tranquil seas.
Open still remaineth a free life for great souls. Verily, he who
possesseth little is so much the less possessed: blessed be moderate
poverty!
There, where the state ceaseth- there only commenceth the man who is
not superfluous: there commenceth the song of the necessary ones,
the single and irreplaceable melody.
There, where the state ceaseth- pray look thither, my brethren! Do
ye not see it, the rainbow and the bridges of the Superman?-

Thus spake Zarathustra.
12. The Flies in the Market-Place

FLEE, my friend, into thy solitude! I see thee deafened with the
noise of the great men, and stung all over with the stings of the
little ones.
Admirably do forest and rock know how to be silent with thee.
Resemble again the tree which thou lovest, the broad-branched one-
silently and attentively it o'erhangeth the sea.
Where solitude endeth, there beginneth the market-place; and where
the market-place beginneth, there beginneth also the noise of the
great actors, and the buzzing of the poison-flies.
In the world even the best things are worthless without those who
represent them: those representers, the people call great men.
Little, do the people understand what is great- that is to say,
the creating agency. But they have a taste for all representers and
actors of great things.
Around the devisers of new values revolveth the world:- invisibly it
revolveth. But around the actors revolve the people and the glory:
such is the course of things.
Spirit, hath the actor, but little conscience of the spirit. He
believeth always in that wherewith he maketh believe most strongly- in
himself!
Tomorrow he hath a new belief, and the day after, one still newer.
Sharp perceptions hath he, like the people, and changeable humours.
To upset- that meaneth with him to prove. To drive mad- that meaneth
with him to convince. And blood is counted by him as the best of all
arguments.
A truth which only glideth into fine ears, he calleth falsehood
and trumpery. Verily, he believeth only in gods that make a great
noise in the world!
Full of clattering buffoons is the market-place,- and the people
glory in their great men! These are for them the masters of the hour.
But the hour presseth them; so they press thee. And also from thee
they want Yea or Nay. Alas! thou wouldst set thy chair betwixt For and
Against?
On account of those absolute and impatient ones, be not jealous,
thou lover of truth! Never yet did truth cling to the arm of an
absolute one.
On account of those abrupt ones, return into thy security: only in
the market-place is one assailed by Yea? or Nay?
Slow is the experience of all deep fountains: long have they to wait
until they know what hath fallen into their depths.
Away from the market-place and from fame taketh place all that is
great: away from the market-Place and from fame have ever dwelt the
devisers of new values.
Flee, my friend, into thy solitude: I see thee stung all over by the
poisonous flies. Flee thither, where a rough, strong breeze bloweth!
Flee into thy solitude! Thou hast lived too closely to the small and
the pitiable. Flee from their invisible vengeance! Towards thee they
have nothing but vengeance.
Raise no longer an arm against them! Innumerable are they, and it is
not thy lot to be a fly-flap.
Innumerable are the small and pitiable ones; and of many a proud
structure, rain-drops and weeds have been the ruin.
Thou art not stone; but already hast thou become hollow by the
numerous drops. Thou wilt yet break and burst by the numerous drops.
Exhausted I see thee, by poisonous flies; bleeding I see thee, and
torn at a hundred spots; and thy pride will not even upbraid.
Blood they would have from thee in all innocence; blood their
bloodless souls crave for- and they sting, therefore, in all
innocence.
But thou, profound one, thou sufferest too profoundly even from
small wounds; and ere thou hadst recovered, the same poison-worm
crawled over thy hand.
Too proud art thou to kill these sweet-tooths. But take care lest it
be thy fate to suffer all their poisonous injustice!
They buzz around thee also with their praise: obtrusiveness is their
praise. They want to be close to thy skin and thy blood.
They flatter thee, as one flattereth a God or devil; they whimper
before thee, as before a God or devil; What doth it come to!
Flatterers are they, and whimperers, and nothing more.
Often, also, do they show themselves to thee as amiable ones. But
that hath ever been the prudence of the cowardly. Yea! the cowardly
are wise!
They think much about thee with their circumscribed souls- thou
art always suspected by them! Whatever is much thought about is at
last thought suspicious.
They punish thee for all thy virtues. They pardon thee in their
inmost hearts only- for thine errors.
Because thou art gentle and of upright character, thou sayest:
"Blameless are they for their small existence." But their
circumscribed souls think: "Blamable is all great existence."
Even when thou art gentle towards them, they still feel themselves
despised by thee; and they repay thy beneficence with secret
maleficence.
Thy silent pride is always counter to their taste; they rejoice if
once thou be humble enough to be frivolous.
What we recognise in a man, we also irritate in him. Therefore be on
your guard against the small ones!
In thy presence they feel themselves small, and their baseness
gleameth and gloweth against thee in invisible vengeance.
Sawest thou not how often they became dumb when thou approachedst
them, and how their energy left them like the smoke of an
extinguishing fire?
Yea, my friend, the bad conscience art thou of thy neighbours; for
they are unworthy of thee. Therefore they hate thee, and would fain
suck thy blood.
Thy neighbours will always be poisonous flies; what is great in
thee- that itself must make them more poisonous, and always more
fly-like.
Flee, my friend, into thy solitude- and thither, where a rough
strong breeze bloweth. It is not thy lot to be a fly-flap.-

Thus spake Zarathustra.
13. Chastity

I LOVE the forest. It is bad to live in cities: there, there are too
many of the lustful.
Is it not better to fall into the hands of a murderer than into
the dreams of a lustful woman?
And just look at these men: their eye saith it- they know nothing
better on earth than to lie with a woman.
Filth is at the bottom of their souls; and alas! if their filth hath
still spirit in it!
Would that ye were perfect- at least as animals! But to animals
belongeth innocence.
Do I counsel you to slay your instincts? I counsel you to
innocence in your instincts.
Do I counsel you to chastity? Chastity is a virtue with some, but
with many almost a vice.
These are continent, to be sure: but doggish lust looketh
enviously out of all that they do.
Even into the heights of their virtue and into their cold spirit
doth this creature follow them, with its discord.
And how nicely can doggish lust beg for a piece of spirit, when a
piece of flesh is denied it!
Ye love tragedies and all that breaketh the heart? But I am
distrustful of your doggish lust.
Ye have too cruel eyes, and ye look wantonly towards the
sufferers. Hath not your lust just disguised itself and taken the name
of fellow-suffering?
And also this parable give I unto you: Not a few who meant to cast
out their devil, went thereby into the swine themselves.
To whom chastity is difficult, it is to be dissuaded: lest it become
the road to hell- to filth and lust of soul.
Do I speak of filthy things? That is not the worst thing for me to
do.
Not when the truth is filthy, but when it is shallow, doth the
discerning one go unwillingly into its waters.
Verily, there are chaste ones from their very nature; they are
gentler of heart, and laugh better and oftener than you.
They laugh also at chastity, and ask: "What is chastity?
Is chastity not folly? But the folly came unto us, and not we unto
it.
We offered that guest harbour and heart: now it dwelleth with us-
let it stay as long as it will!"-
Thus spake Zarathustra.
14. The Friend

"ONE is always too many about me"- thinketh the anchorite. "Always
once one- that maketh two in the long run!"
I and me are always too earnestly in conversation: how could it be
endured, if there were not a friend?
The friend of the anchorite is always the third one: the third one
is the cork which preventeth the conversation of the two sinking
into the depth.
Ah! there are too many depths for all anchorites. Therefore, do they
long so much for a friend and for his elevation.
Our faith in others betrayeth wherein we would fain have faith in
ourselves. Our longing for a friend is our betrayer.
And often with our love we want merely to overleap envy. And often
we attack and make ourselves enemies, to conceal that we are
vulnerable.
"Be at least mine enemy!"- thus speaketh the true reverence, which
doth not venture to solicit friendship.
If one would have a friend, then must one also be willing to wage
war for him: and in order to wage war, one must be capable of being an
enemy.
One ought still to honour the enemy in one's friend. Canst thou go
nigh unto thy friend, and not go over to him?
In one's friend one shall have one's best enemy. Thou shalt be
closest unto him with thy heart when thou withstandest him.
Thou wouldst wear no raiment before thy friend? It is in honour of
thy friend that thou showest thyself to him as thou art? But he
wisheth thee to the devil on that account!
He who maketh no secret of himself shocketh: so much reason have
ye to fear nakedness! Aye, if ye were gods, ye could then be ashamed
of clothing!
Thou canst not adorn thyself fine enough for thy friend; for thou
shalt be unto him an arrow and a longing for the Superman.
Sawest thou ever thy friend asleep- to know how he looketh? What
is usually the countenance of thy friend? It is thine own countenance,
in a coarse and imperfect mirror.
Sawest thou ever thy friend asleep? Wert thou not dismayed at thy
friend looking so? O my friend, man is something that hath to be
surpassed.
In divining and keeping silence shall the friend be a master: not
everything must thou wish to see. Thy dream shall disclose unto thee
what thy friend doeth when awake.
Let thy pity be a divining: to know first if thy friend wanteth
pity. Perhaps he loveth in thee the unmoved eye, and the look of
eternity.
Let thy pity for thy friend be hid under a hard shell; thou shalt
bite out a tooth upon it. Thus will it have delicacy and sweetness.
Art thou pure air and solitude and bread and medicine to thy friend?
Many a one cannot loosen his own fetters, but is nevertheless his
friend's emancipator.
Art thou a slave? Then thou canst not be a friend. Art thou a
tyrant? Then thou canst not have friends.
Far too long hath there been a slave and a tyrant concealed in
woman. On that account woman is not yet capable of friendship: she
knoweth only love.
In woman's love there is injustice and blindness to all she doth not
love. And even in woman's conscious love, there is still always
surprise and lightning and night, along with the light.
As yet woman is not capable of friendship: women are still cats
and birds. Or at the best, cows.
As yet woman is not capable of friendship. But tell me, ye men,
who of you is capable of friendship?
Oh! your poverty, ye men, and your sordidness of soul! As much as ye
give to your friend, will I give even to my foe, and will not have
become poorer thereby.
There is comradeship: may there be friendship!

Thus spake Zarathustra.
15. The Thousand and One Goals

MANY lands saw Zarathustra, and many peoples: thus he discovered the
good and bad of many peoples. No greater power did Zarathustra find on
earth than good and bad.
No people could live without first valuing; if a people will
maintain itself, however, it must not value as its neighbour valueth.
Much that passed for good with one people was regarded with scorn
and contempt by another: thus I found it. Much found I here called
bad, which was there decked with purple honours.
Never did the one neighbour understand the other: ever did his
soul marvel at his neighbour's delusion and wickedness.
A table of excellencies hangeth over every people. Lo! it is the
table of their triumphs; lo! it is the voice of their Will to Power.
It is laudable, what they think hard; what is indispensable and hard
they call good; and what relieveth in the direst distress, the
unique and hardest of all,- they extol as holy.
Whatever maketh them rule and conquer and shine, to the dismay and
envy of their neighbours, they regard as the high and foremost
thing, the test and the meaning of all else.
Verily, my brother, if thou knewest but a people's need, its land,
its sky, and its neighbour, then wouldst thou divine the law of its
surmountings, and why it climbeth up that ladder to its hope.
"Always shalt thou be the foremost and prominent above others: no
one shall thy jealous soul love, except a friend"- that made the
soul of a Greek thrill: thereby went he his way to greatness.
"To speak truth, and be skilful with bow and arrow"- so seemed it
alike pleasing and hard to the people from whom cometh my name- the
name which is alike pleasing and hard to me.
"To honour father and mother, and from the root of the soul to do
their will"- this table of surmounting hung another people over
them, and became powerful and permanent thereby.
"To have fidelity, and for the sake of fidelity to risk honour and
blood, even in evil and dangerous courses"- teaching itself so,
another people mastered itself, and thus mastering itself, became
pregnant and heavy with great hopes.
Verily, men have given unto themselves all their good and bad.
Verily, they took it not, they found it not, it came not unto them
as a voice from heaven.
Values did man only assign to things in order to maintain himself-
he created only the significance of things, a human significance!
Therefore, calleth he himself "man," that is, the valuator.
Valuing is creating: hear it, ye creating ones! Valuation itself
is the treasure and jewel of the valued things.
Through valuation only is there value; and without valuation the nut
of existence would be hollow. Hear it, ye creating ones!
Change of values- that is, change of the creating ones. Always
doth he destroy who hath to be a creator.
Creating ones were first of all peoples, and only in late times
individuals; verily, the individual himself is still the latest
creation.
Peoples once hung over them tables of the good. Love which would
rule and love which would obey, created for themselves such tables.
Older is the pleasure in the herd than the pleasure in the ego:
and as long as the good conscience is for the herd, the bad conscience
only saith: ego.
Verily, the crafty ego, the loveless one, that seeketh its advantage
in the advantage of many- it is not the origin of the herd, but its
ruin.
Loving ones, was it always, and creating ones, that created good and
bad. Fire of love gloweth in the names of all the virtues, and fire of
wrath.
Many lands saw Zarathustra, and many peoples: no greater power did
Zarathustra find on earth than the creations of the loving ones-
"good" and "bad" are they called.
Verily, a prodigy is this power of praising and blaming. Tell me, ye
brethren, who will master it for me? Who will put a fetter upon the
thousand necks of this animal?
A thousand goals have there been hitherto, for a thousand peoples
have there been. Only the fetter for the thousand necks is still
lacking; there is lacking the one goal. As yet humanity hath not a
goal.
But pray tell me, my brethren, if the goal of humanity be still
lacking, is there not also still lacking- humanity itself?-

Thus spake Zarathustra.
16. Neighbour-Love

YE CROWD around your neighbour, and have fine words for it. But I
say unto you: your neighbour-love is your bad love of yourselves.
Ye flee unto your neighbour from yourselves, and would fain make a
virtue thereof: but I fathom your "unselfishness."
The Thou is older than the I; the Thou hath been consecrated, but
not yet the I: so man presseth nigh unto his neighbour.
Do I advise you to neighbour-love? Rather do I advise you to
neighbour-flight and to furthest love!
Higher than love to your neighbour is love to the furthest and
future ones; higher still than love to men, is love to things and
phantoms.
The phantom that runneth on before thee, my brother, is fairer
than thou; why dost thou not give unto it thy flesh and thy bones? But
thou fearest, and runnest unto thy neighbour.
Ye cannot endure it with yourselves, and do not love yourselves
sufficiently: so ye seek to mislead your neighbour into love, and
would fain gild yourselves with his error.
Would that ye could not endure it with any kind of near ones, or
their neighbours; then would ye have to create your friend and his
overflowing heart out of yourselves.
Ye call in a witness when ye want to speak well of yourselves; and
when ye have misled him to think well of you, ye also think well of
yourselves.
Not only doth he lie, who speaketh contrary to his knowledge, but
more so, he who speaketh contrary to his ignorance. And thus speak
ye of yourselves in your intercourse, and belie your neighbour with
yourselves.
Thus saith the fool: "Association with men spoileth the character,
especially when one hath none."
The one goeth to his neighbour because he seeketh himself, and the
other because he would fain lose himself. Your bad love to
yourselves maketh solitude a prison to you.
The furthest ones are they who pay for your love to the near ones;
and when there are but five of you together, a sixth must always die.
I love not your festivals either: too many actors found I there, and
even the spectators often behaved like actors.
Not the neighbour do I teach you, but the friend. Let the friend
be the festival of the earth to you, and a foretaste of the Superman.
I teach you the friend and his overflowing heart. But one must
know how to be a sponge, if one would be loved by over-flowing hearts.
I teach you the friend in whom the world standeth complete, a
capsule of the good,- the creating friend, who hath always a
complete world to bestow.
And as the world unrolled itself for him, so rolleth it together
again for him in rings, as the growth of good through evil, as the
growth of purpose out of chance.
Let the future and the furthest be the motive of thy today; in thy
friend shalt thou love the Superman as thy motive.
My brethren, I advise you not to neighbour-love- I advise you to
furthest love!-

Thus spake Zarathustra.
17. The Way of the Creating One

WOULDST thou go into isolation, my brother? Wouldst thou seek the
way unto thyself? Tarry yet a little and hearken unto me.
"He who seeketh may easily get lost himself. All isolation is
wrong": so say the herd. And long didst thou belong to the herd.
The voice of the herd will still echo in thee. And when thou sayest,
"I have no longer a conscience in common with you," then will it be
a plaint and a pain.
Lo, that pain itself did the same conscience produce; and the last
gleam of that conscience still gloweth on thine affliction.
But thou wouldst go the way of thine affliction, which is the way
unto thyself? Then show me thine authority and thy strength to do so!
Art thou a new strength and a new authority? A first motion? A
self-rolling wheel? Canst thou also compel stars to revolve around
thee?
Alas! there is so much lusting for loftiness! There are so many
convulsions of the ambitions! Show me that thou art not a lusting
and ambitious one!
Alas! there are so many great thoughts that do nothing more than the
bellows: they inflate, and make emptier than ever.
Free, dost thou call thyself? Thy ruling thought would I hear of,
and not that thou hast escaped from a yoke.
Art thou one entitled to escape from a yoke? Many a one hath cast
away his final worth when he hath cast away his servitude.
Free from what? What doth that matter to Zarathustra! Clearly,
however, shall thine eye show unto me: free for what?
Canst thou give unto thyself thy bad and thy good, and set up thy
will as a law over thee? Canst thou be judge for thyself, and
avenger of thy law?
Terrible is aloneness with the judge and avenger of one's own law.
Thus is a star projected into desert space, and into the icy breath of
aloneness.
To-day sufferest thou still from the multitude, thou individual;
to-day hast thou still thy courage unabated, and thy hopes.
But one day will the solitude weary thee; one day will thy pride
yield, and thy courage quail. Thou wilt one day cry: "I am alone!"
One day wilt thou see no longer thy loftiness, and see too closely
thy lowliness; thy sublimity itself will frighten thee as a phantom.
Thou wilt one day cry: "All is false!"
There are feelings which seek to slay the lonesome one; if they do
not succeed, then must they themselves die! But art thou capable of
it- to be a murderer?
Hast thou ever known, my brother, the word "disdain"? And the
anguish of thy justice in being just to those that disdain thee?
Thou forcest many to think differently about thee; that, charge they
heavily to thine account. Thou camest nigh unto them, and yet
wentest past: for that they never forgive thee.
Thou goest beyond them: but the higher thou risest, the smaller doth
the eye of envy see thee. Most of all, however, is the flying one
hated.
"How could ye be just unto me!"- must thou say- "I choose your
injustice as my allotted portion.
Injustice and filth cast they at the lonesome one: but, my
brother, if thou wouldst be a star, thou must shine for them none
the less on that account!
And be on thy guard against the good and just! They would fain
crucify those who devise their own virtue- they hate the lonesome
ones.
Be on thy guard, also, against holy simplicity! All is unholy to
it that is not simple; fain, likewise, would it play with the fire- of
the fagot and stake.
And be on thy guard, also, against the assaults of thy love! Too
readily doth the recluse reach his hand to any one who meeteth him.
To many a one mayest thou not give thy hand, but only thy paw; and I
wish thy paw also to have claws.
But the worst enemy thou canst meet, wilt thou thyself always be;
thou waylayest thyself in caverns and forests.
Thou lonesome one, thou goest the way to thyself! And past thyself
and thy seven devils leadeth thy way!
A heretic wilt thou be to thyself, and a wizard and a soothsayer,
and a fool, and a doubter, and a reprobate, and a villain.
Ready must thou be to burn thyself in thine own flame; how couldst
thou become new if thou have not first become ashes!
Thou lonesome one, thou goest the way of the creating one: a God
wilt thou create for thyself out of thy seven devils!
Thou lonesome one, thou goest the way of the loving one: thou lovest
thyself, and on that account despisest thou thyself, as only the
loving ones despise.
To create, desireth the loving one, because he despiseth! What
knoweth he of love who hath not been obliged to despise just what he
loved!
With thy love, go into thine isolation, my brother, and with thy
creating; and late only will justice limp after thee.
With my tears, go into thine isolation, my brother. I love him who
seeketh to create beyond himself, and thus succumbeth.-

Thus spake Zarathustra.
18. Old and Young Women

WHY stealest thou along so furtively in the twilight, Zarathustra?
And what hidest thou so carefully under thy mantle?
Is it a treasure that hath been given thee? Or a child that hath
been born thee? Or goest thou thyself on a thief's errand, thou friend
of the evil?-
Verily, my brother, said Zarathustra, it is a treasure that hath
been given me: it is a little truth which I carry.
But it is naughty, like a young child; and if I hold not its
mouth, it screameth too loudly.
As I went on my way alone today, at the hour when the sun declineth,
there met me an old woman, and she spake thus unto my soul:
"Much hath Zarathustra spoken also to us women, but never spake he
unto us concerning woman."
And I answered her: "Concerning woman, one should only talk unto
men."
"Talk also unto me of woman," said she; "I am old enough to forget
it presently."
And I obliged the old woman and spake thus unto her:
Everything in woman is a riddle, and everything in woman hath one
solution- it is called pregnancy.
Man is for woman a means: the purpose is always the child. But
what is woman for man?
Two different things wanteth the true man: danger and diversion.
Therefore wanteth he woman, as the most dangerous plaything.
Man shall be trained for war, and woman for the recreation of the
warrior: all else is folly.
Too sweet fruits- these the warrior liketh not. Therefore liketh
he woman;- bitter is even the sweetest woman.
Better than man doth woman understand children, but man is more
childish than woman.
In the true man there is a child hidden: it wanteth to play. Up
then, ye women, and discover the child in man!
A plaything let woman be, pure and fine like the precious stone,
illumined with the virtues of a world not yet come.
Let the beam of a star shine in your love! Let your hope say: "May I
bear the Superman!"
In your love let there be valour! With your love shall ye assail him
who inspireth you with fear!
In your love be your honour! Little doth woman understand
otherwise about honour. But let this be your honour: always to love
more than ye are loved, and never be the second.
Let man fear woman when she loveth: then maketh she every sacrifice,
and everything else she regardeth as worthless.
Let man fear woman when she hateth: for man in his innermost soul is
merely evil; woman, however, is mean.
Whom hateth woman most?- Thus spake the iron to the loadstone: "I
hate thee most, because thou attractest, but art too weak to draw unto
thee."
The happiness of man is, "I will." The happiness of woman is, "He
will."
"Lo! "Lo! now hath the world become perfect!"- thus thinketh every
woman when she obeyeth with all her love.
Obey, must the woman, and find a depth for her surface. Surface is
woman's soul, a mobile, stormy film on shallow water.
Man's soul, however, is deep, its current gusheth in subterranean
caverns: woman surmiseth its force, but comprehendeth it not.-
Then answered me the old woman: "Many fine things hath Zarathustra
said, especially for those who are young enough for them.
Strange! Zarathustra knoweth little about woman, and yet he is right
about them! Doth this happen, because with women nothing is
impossible?
And now accept a little truth by way of thanks! I am old enough
for it!
Swaddle it up and hold its mouth: otherwise it will scream too
loudly, the little truth."
"Give me, woman, thy little truth!" said I. And thus spake the old
woman:
"Thou goest to women? Do not forget thy whip!"-

Thus spake Zarathustra.
19. The Bite of the Adder

ONE day had Zarathustra fallen asleep under a fig-tree, owing to the
heat, with his arm over his face. And there came an adder and bit
him in the neck, so that Zarathustra screamed with pain. When he had
taken his arm from his face he looked at the serpent; and then did
it recognise the eyes of Zarathustra, wriggled awkwardly, and tried to
get away. "Not at all," said Zarathustra, "as yet hast thou not
received my thanks! Thou hast awakened me in time; my journey is yet
long." "Thy journey is short," said the adder sadly; "my poison is
fatal." Zarathustra smiled. "When did ever a dragon die of a serpent's
poison?"- said he. "But take thy poison back! Thou art not rich enough
to present it to me." Then fell the adder again on his neck, and
licked his wound.
When Zarathustra once told this to his disciples they asked him:
"And what, O Zarathustra, is the moral of thy story?" And
Zarathustra answered them thus:
The destroyer of morality, the good and just call me: my story is
immoral.
When, however, ye have an enemy, then return him not good for
evil: for that would abash him. But prove that he hath done
something good to you.
And rather be angry than abash any one! And when ye are cursed, it
pleaseth me not that ye should then desire to bless. Rather curse a
little also!
And should a great injustice befall you, then do quickly five
small ones besides. Hideous to behold is he on whom injustice presseth
alone.
Did ye ever know this? Shared injustice is half justice. And he
who can bear it, shall take the injustice upon himself!
A small revenge is humaner than no revenge at all. And if the
punishment be not also a right and an honour to the transgressor, I do
not like your punishing.
Nobler is it to own oneself in the wrong than to establish one's
right, especially if one be in the right. Only, one must be rich
enough to do so.
I do not like your cold justice; out of the eye of your judges there
always glanceth the executioner and his cold steel.
Tell me: where find we justice, which is love with seeing eyes?
Devise me, then, the love which not only beareth all punishment, but
also all guilt!
Devise me, then, the justice which acquitteth every one except the
judge!
And would ye hear this likewise? To him who seeketh to be just
from the heart, even the lie becometh philanthropy.
But how could I be just from the heart! How can I give every one his
own! Let this be enough for me: I give unto every one mine own.
Finally, my brethren, guard against doing wrong to any anchorite.
How could an anchorite forget! How could he requite!
Like a deep well is an anchorite. Easy is it to throw in a stone: if
it should sink to the bottom, however, tell me, who will bring it
out again?
Guard against injuring the anchorite! If ye have done so, however,
well then, kill him also!-

Thus spake Zarathustra.
20. Child and Marriage

I HAVE a question for thee alone, my brother: like a
sounding-lead, cast I this question into thy soul, that I may know its
depth.
Thou art young, and desirest child and marriage. But I ask thee: Art
thou a man entitled to desire a child?
Art thou the victorious one, the self-conqueror, the ruler of thy
passions, the master of thy virtues? Thus do I ask thee.
Or doth the animal speak in thy wish, and necessity? Or isolation?
Or discord in thee?
I would have thy victory and freedom long for a child. Living
monuments shalt thou build to thy victory and emancipation.
Beyond thyself shalt thou build. But first of all must thou be built
thyself, rectangular in body and soul.
Not only onward shalt thou propagate thyself, but upward! For that
purpose may the garden of marriage help thee!
A higher body shalt thou create, a first movement, a spontaneously
rolling wheel- a creating one shalt thou create.
Marriage: so call I the will of the twain to create the one that
is more than those who created it. The reverence for one another, as
those exercising such a will, call I marriage.
Let this be the significance and the truth of thy marriage. But that
which the many-too-many call marriage, those superfluous ones- ah,
what shall I call it?
Ah, the poverty of soul in the twain! Ah, the filth of soul in the
twain! Ah, the pitiable self-complacency in the twain!
Marriage they call it all; and they say their marriages are made
in heaven.
Well, I do not like it, that heaven of the superfluous! No, I do not
like them, those animals tangled in the heavenly toils!
Far from me also be the God who limpeth thither to bless what he
hath not matched!
Laugh not at such marriages! What child hath not had reason to
weep over its parents?
Worthy did this man seem, and ripe for the meaning of the earth: but
when I saw his wife, the earth seemed to me a home for madcaps.
Yea, I would that the earth shook with convulsions when a saint
and a goose mate with one another.
This one went forth in quest of truth as a hero, and at last got for
himself a small decked-up lie: his marriage he calleth it.
That one was reserved in intercourse and chose choicely. But one
time he spoilt his company for all time: his marriage he calleth it.
Another sought a handmaid with the virtues of an angel. But all at
once he became the handmaid of a woman, and now would he need also
to become an angel.
Careful, have I found all buyers, and all of them have astute
eyes. But even the astutest of them buyeth his wife in a sack.
Many short follies- that is called love by you. And your marriage
putteth an end to many short follies, with one long stupidity.
Your love to woman, and woman's love to man- ah, would that it
were sympathy for suffering and veiled deities! But generally two
animals alight on one another.
But even your best love is only an enraptured simile and a painful
ardour. It is a torch to light you to loftier paths.
Beyond yourselves shall ye love some day! Then learn first of all to
love. And on that account ye had to drink the bitter cup of your love.
Bitterness is in the cup even of the best love; thus doth it cause
longing for the Superman; thus doth it cause thirst in thee, the
creating one!
Thirst in the creating one, arrow and longing for the Superman: tell
me, my brother, is this thy will to marriage?
Holy call I such a will, and such a marriage.-

Thus spake Zarathustra.
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