Utopia

Currently reading. I have finished Book I and am beginning Book II.

First reaction

Book I is much stranger—and so far much less convincing—than I expected. Its account of crime, punishment, property, and social conditions can sound surprisingly proto-Marxian or proto-Foucauldian, centuries before either thinker. The dialogue is satirical, which complicates any straightforward attribution of its claims to More, but the voice still often strikes me as arrogant and self-satisfied.

Theft and punishment

The discussion of capital punishment for theft contains a sharp incentive argument: if theft and murder receive the same punishment, a thief has reason to kill witnesses. But the broader account treats criminal behavior as largely produced by circumstances and by a society that failed to educate and provide for people properly. It feels remarkably modern—almost like a contemporary “blame the system” argument—and, at least in Book I, too sweeping to persuade me.

Property and governance

The diagnosis of private property as the central obstacle to a well-functioning society seems close to the opposite of true to me. More generally, many of the claims currently feel like provocations prepared for the next dinner party rather than a serious engagement with the second-order problems of governing a society.

So far, this is disappointing relative to my expectations. Book II turns to the detailed description of Utopia itself; perhaps that is where the argument becomes richer or more interesting.

Proof by stipulation

Book II strengthens my central objection to the form of the argument. Rather than making a direct case for its institutions, the book constructs a fictional society that happens to embody the preferred morality, stipulates that it flourishes, and then points to that success. It feels like inventing a reality that agrees with you.

Utopia is strongly collectivist and anti-luxury. Production is directed toward common necessities rather than individually chosen wants; because allegedly useless luxuries disappear, necessities somehow become so abundant that scarcity largely vanishes. The surplus makes Utopia extraordinarily wealthy and allows it to hire foreign mercenaries. Conveniently, those who fight for money are morally degraded and expendable, while the Utopians remain virtuous beneficiaries of the arrangement.

Virtue by authorial fiat

Nearly every practical problem is solved by assuming exceptional citizens. People willingly perform useful occupations, are neither selfish nor lazy, maintain houses they exchange by lottery, fight with perfect courage and judgment, and absorb Greek language and culture with implausible ease. The resemblance to later communist-utopian visions is hard to miss: abolish private property, assume collective motivation, and hand-wave the incentive and maintenance problems.

The enthusiasm for Greek culture, meanwhile, feels recognizably Renaissance-humanist. The Utopians are not merely good at Greek; naturally, they become almost supernaturally good at it.

Slavery and religion

Slavery is a substantial part of the moral and economic framework: wrongdoing can be punished with enslavement, and foreign slaves can also be acquired. This is obviously condemnable, though strangely it is almost a smaller objection than the subtler assumptions holding the rest of the system together. The comparison with imprisonment is worth considering—not as a defense of slavery, but as a question about different structures of penal coercion.

The religious settlement is similarly convenient. Utopians are portrayed as naturally receptive to monotheism and, once Christianity is introduced, as recognizing its truth with remarkable ease. The account seems carefully fitted to More’s Catholic worldview: the lack of priests and sacraments is merely a logistical problem awaiting resolution.

At this point, the self-serving quality is almost funny: if everyone simply lived according to the author’s insight, we are assured that the world would work beautifully. I do not find that persuasive, but the extremity and historical strangeness of the construction provide at least some entertainment.