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Books: An Essay on the Principle of Population

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Thomas Malthus
An Essay on the Principle of Population
1798





AN ESSAY ON THE PRINCIPLE OF POPULATION, AS IT AFFECTS THE FUTURE
IMPROVEMENT OF SOCIETY WITH REMARKS ON THE SPECULATIONS OF MR.
GODWIN, M. CONDORCET, AND OTHER WRITERS.

LONDON, PRINTED FOR J. JOHNSON, IN ST. PAUL'S CHURCH-YARD, 1798.




Preface


The following Essay owes its origin to a conversation with a
friend, on the subject of Mr Godwin's essay on avarice and
profusion, in his Enquirer. The discussion started the general
question of the future improvement of society, and the Author at
first sat down with an intention of merely stating his thoughts
to his friend, upon paper, in a clearer manner than he thought he
could do in conversation. But as the subject opened upon him,
some ideas occurred, which he did not recollect to have met with
before; and as he conceived that every least light, on a topic so
generally interesting, might be received with candour, he
determined to put his thoughts in a form for publication.

The Essay might, undoubtedly, have been rendered much more
complete by a collection of a greater number of facts in
elucidation of the general argument. But a long and almost total
interruption from very particular business, joined to a desire
(perhaps imprudent) of not delaying the publication much beyond
the time that he originally proposed, prevented the Author from
giving to the subject an undivided attention. He presumes,
however, that the facts which he has adduced will be found to
form no inconsiderable evidence for the truth of his opinion
respecting the future improvement of mankind. As the Author
contemplates this opinion at present, little more appears to him
to be necessary than a plain statement, in addition to the most
cursory view of society, to establish it.

It is an obvious truth, which has been taken notice of by
many writers, that population must always be kept down to the
level of the means of subsistence; but no writer that the Author
recollects has inquired particularly into the means by which this
level is effected: and it is a view of these means which forms,
to his mind, the strongest obstacle in the way to any very great
future improvement of society. He hopes it will appear that, in
the discussion of this interesting subject, he is actuated solely
by a love of truth, and not by any prejudices against any
particular set of men, or of opinions. He professes to have read
some of the speculations on the future improvement of society in
a temper very different from a wish to find them visionary, but
he has not acquired that command over his understanding which
would enable him to believe what he wishes, without evidence, or
to refuse his assent to what might be unpleasing, when
accompanied with evidence.

The view which he has given of human life has a melancholy
hue, but he feels conscious that he has drawn these dark tints
from a conviction that they are really in the picture, and not
from a jaundiced eye or an inherent spleen of disposition. The
theory of mind which he has sketched in the two last chapters
accounts to his own understanding in a satisfactory manner for
the existence of most of the evils of life, but whether it will
have the same effect upon others must be left to the judgement of
his readers.

If he should succeed in drawing the attention of more able
men to what he conceives to be the principal difficulty in the
way to the improvement of society and should, in consequence, see
this difficulty removed, even in theory, he will gladly retract
his present opinions and rejoice in a conviction of his error.

7 June 1798



CHAPTER 1

Question stated--Little prospect of a determination of it, from
the enmity of the opposing parties--The principal argument
against the perfectibility of man and of society has never been
fairly answered--Nature of the difficulty arising from
population--Outline of the principal argument of the Essay


The great and unlooked for discoveries that have taken place of
late years in natural philosophy, the increasing diffusion of
general knowledge from the extension of the art of printing, the
ardent and unshackled spirit of inquiry that prevails throughout
the lettered and even unlettered world, the new and extraordinary
lights that have been thrown on political subjects which dazzle
and astonish the understanding, and particularly that tremendous
phenomenon in the political horizon, the French Revolution,
which, like a blazing comet, seems destined either to inspire
with fresh life and vigour, or to scorch up and destroy the
shrinking inhabitants of the earth, have all concurred to lead
many able men into the opinion that we were touching on a period
big with the most important changes, changes that would in some
measure be decisive of the future fate of mankind.

It has been said that the great question is now at issue,
whether man shall henceforth start forwards with accelerated
velocity towards illimitable, and hitherto unconceived
improvement, or be condemned to a perpetual oscillation between
happiness and misery, and after every effort remain still at an
immeasurable distance from the wished-for goal.

Yet, anxiously as every friend of mankind must look forwards
to the termination of this painful suspense, and eagerly as the
inquiring mind would hail every ray of light that might assist
its view into futurity, it is much to be lamented that the
writers on each side of this momentous question still keep far
aloof from each other. Their mutual arguments do not meet with a
candid examination. The question is not brought to rest on fewer
points, and even in theory scarcely seems to be approaching to a
decision.

The advocate for the present order of things is apt to treat
the sect of speculative philosophers either as a set of artful
and designing knaves who preach up ardent benevolence and draw
captivating pictures of a happier state of society only the
better to enable them to destroy the present establishments and
to forward their own deep-laid schemes of ambition, or as wild
and mad-headed enthusiasts whose silly speculations and absurd
paradoxes are not worthy the attention of any reasonable man.

The advocate for the perfectibility of man, and of society,
retorts on the defender of establishments a more than equal
contempt. He brands him as the slave of the most miserable and
narrow prejudices; or as the defender of the abuses of civil
society only because he profits by them. He paints him either as
a character who prostitutes his understanding to his interest, or
as one whose powers of mind are not of a size to grasp any thing
great and noble, who cannot see above five yards before him, and
who must therefore be utterly unable to take in the views of the
enlightened benefactor of mankind.

In this unamicable contest the cause of truth cannot but
suffer. The really good arguments on each side of the question
are not allowed to have their proper weight. Each pursues his own
theory, little solicitous to correct or improve it by an
attention to what is advanced by his opponents.

The friend of the present order of things condemns all
political speculations in the gross. He will not even condescend
to examine the grounds from which the perfectibility of society
is inferred. Much less will he give himself the trouble in a fair
and candid manner to attempt an exposition of their fallacy.

The speculative philosopher equally offends against the cause
of truth. With eyes fixed on a happier state of society, the
blessings of which he paints in the most captivating colours, he
allows himself to indulge in the most bitter invectives against
every present establishment, without applying his talents to
consider the best and safest means of removing abuses and without
seeming to be aware of the tremendous obstacles that threaten,
even in theory, to oppose the progress of man towards perfection.

It is an acknowledged truth in philosophy that a just theory
will always be confirmed by experiment. Yet so much friction, and
so many minute circumstances occur in practice, which it is next
to impossible for the most enlarged and penetrating mind to
foresee, that on few subjects can any theory be pronounced just,
till all the arguments against it have been maturely weighed and
clearly and consistently refuted.

I have read some of the speculations on the perfectibility of
man and of society with great pleasure. I have been warmed and
delighted with the enchanting picture which they hold forth. I
ardently wish for such happy improvements. But I see great, and,
to my understanding, unconquerable difficulties in the way to
them. These difficulties it is my present purpose to state,
declaring, at the same time, that so far from exulting in them,
as a cause of triumph over the friends of innovation, nothing
would give me greater pleasure than to see them completely
removed.

The most important argument that I shall adduce is certainly
not new. The principles on which it depends have been explained
in part by Hume, and more at large by Dr Adam Smith. It has been
advanced and applied to the present subject, though not with its
proper weight, or in the most forcible point of view, by Mr
Wallace, and it may probably have been stated by many writers
that I have never met with. I should certainly therefore not
think of advancing it again, though I mean to place it in a point
of view in some degree different from any that I have hitherto
seen, if it had ever been fairly and satisfactorily answered.

The cause of this neglect on the part of the advocates for
the perfectibility of mankind is not easily accounted for. I
cannot doubt the talents of such men as Godwin and Condorcet. I
am unwilling to doubt their candour. To my understanding, and
probably to that of most others, the difficulty appears
insurmountable. Yet these men of acknowledged ability and
penetration scarcely deign to notice it, and hold on their course
in such speculations with unabated ardour and undiminished
confidence. I have certainly no right to say that they purposely
shut their eyes to such arguments. I ought rather to doubt the
validity of them, when neglected by such men, however forcibly
their truth may strike my own mind. Yet in this respect it must
be acknowledged that we are all of us too prone to err. If I saw
a glass of wine repeatedly presented to a man, and he took no
notice of it, I should be apt to think that he was blind or
uncivil. A juster philosophy might teach me rather to think that
my eyes deceived me and that the offer was not really what I
conceived it to be.

In entering upon the argument I must premise that I put out
of the question, at present, all mere conjectures, that is, all
suppositions, the probable realization of which cannot be
inferred upon any just philosophical grounds. A writer may tell
me that he thinks man will ultimately become an ostrich. I cannot
properly contradict him. But before he can expect to bring any
reasonable person over to his opinion, he ought to shew that the
necks of mankind have been gradually elongating, that the lips
have grown harder and more prominent, that the legs and feet are
daily altering their shape, and that the hair is beginning to
change into stubs of feathers. And till the probability of so
wonderful a conversion can be shewn, it is surely lost time and
lost eloquence to expatiate on the happiness of man in such a
state; to describe his powers, both of running and flying, to
paint him in a condition where all narrow luxuries would be
contemned, where he would be employed only in collecting the
necessaries of life, and where, consequently, each man's share of
labour would be light, and his portion of leisure ample.

I think I may fairly make two postulata.

First, That food is necessary to the existence of man.

Secondly, That the passion between the sexes is necessary and
will remain nearly in its present state.

These two laws, ever since we have had any knowledge of
mankind, appear to have been fixed laws of our nature, and, as we
have not hitherto seen any alteration in them, we have no right
to conclude that they will ever cease to be what they now are,
without an immediate act of power in that Being who first
arranged the system of the universe, and for the advantage of his
creatures, still executes, according to fixed laws, all its
various operations.

I do not know that any writer has supposed that on this earth
man will ultimately be able to live without food. But Mr Godwin
has conjectured that the passion between the sexes may in time be
extinguished. As, however, he calls this part of his work a
deviation into the land of conjecture, I will not dwell longer
upon it at present than to say that the best arguments for the
perfectibility of man are drawn from a contemplation of the great
progress that he has already made from the savage state and the
difficulty of saying where he is to stop. But towards the
extinction of the passion between the sexes, no progress whatever
has hitherto been made. It appears to exist in as much force at
present as it did two thousand or four thousand years ago. There
are individual exceptions now as there always have been. But, as
these exceptions do not appear to increase in number, it would
surely be a very unphilosophical mode of arguing to infer, merely
from the existence of an exception, that the exception would, in
time, become the rule, and the rule the exception.

Assuming then my postulata as granted, I say, that the power
of population is indefinitely greater than the power in the earth
to produce subsistence for man.

Population, when unchecked, increases in a geometrical ratio.
Subsistence increases only in an arithmetical ratio. A slight
acquaintance with numbers will shew the immensity of the first
power in comparison of the second.

By that law of our nature which makes food necessary to the
life of man, the effects of these two unequal powers must be kept
equal.

This implies a strong and constantly operating check on
population from the difficulty of subsistence. This difficulty
must fall somewhere and must necessarily be severely felt by a
large portion of mankind.

Through the animal and vegetable kingdoms, nature has
scattered the seeds of life abroad with the most profuse and
liberal hand. She has been comparatively sparing in the room and
the nourishment necessary to rear them. The germs of existence
contained in this spot of earth, with ample food, and ample room
to expand in, would fill millions of worlds in the course of a
few thousand years. Necessity, that imperious all pervading law
of nature, restrains them within the prescribed bounds. The race
of plants and the race of animals shrink under this great
restrictive law. And the race of man cannot, by any efforts of
reason, escape from it. Among plants and animals its effects are
waste of seed, sickness, and premature death. Among mankind,
misery and vice. The former, misery, is an absolutely necessary
consequence of it. Vice is a highly probable consequence, and we
therefore see it abundantly prevail, but it ought not, perhaps,
to be called an absolutely necessary consequence. The ordeal of
virtue is to resist all temptation to evil.

This natural inequality of the two powers of population and
of production in the earth, and that great law of our nature
which must constantly keep their effects equal, form the great
difficulty that to me appears insurmountable in the way to the
perfectibility of society. All other arguments are of slight and
subordinate consideration in comparison of this. I see no way by
which man can escape from the weight of this law which pervades
all animated nature. No fancied equality, no agrarian regulations
in their utmost extent, could remove the pressure of it even for
a single century. And it appears, therefore, to be decisive
against the possible existence of a society, all the members of
which should live in ease, happiness, and comparative leisure;
and feel no anxiety about providing the means of subsistence for
themselves and families.

Consequently, if the premises are just, the argument is
conclusive against the perfectibility of the mass of mankind.

I have thus sketched the general outline of the argument, but
I will examine it more particularly, and I think it will be found
that experience, the true source and foundation of all knowledge,
invariably confirms its truth.



CHAPTER 2

The different ratio in which population and food increase--The
necessary effects of these different ratios of increase--
Oscillation produced by them in the condition of the lower
classes of society--Reasons why this oscillation has not been so
much observed as might be expected--Three propositions on which
the general argument of the Essay depends--The different states
in which mankind have been known to exist proposed to be examined
with reference to these three propositions.


I said that population, when unchecked, increased in a
geometrical ratio, and subsistence for man in an arithmetical
ratio.

Let us examine whether this position be just. I think it will
be allowed, that no state has hitherto existed (at least that we
have any account of) where the manners were so pure and simple,
and the means of subsistence so abundant, that no check whatever
has existed to early marriages, among the lower classes, from a
fear of not providing well for their families, or among the
higher classes, from a fear of lowering their condition in life.
Consequently in no state that we have yet known has the power of
population been left to exert itself with perfect freedom.

Whether the law of marriage be instituted or not, the dictate
of nature and virtue seems to be an early attachment to one
woman. Supposing a liberty of changing in the case of an
unfortunate choice, this liberty would not affect population till
it arose to a height greatly vicious; and we are now supposing
the existence of a society where vice is scarcely known.

In a state therefore of great equality and virtue, where pure
and simple manners prevailed, and where the means of subsistence
were so abundant that no part of the society could have any fears
about providing amply for a family, the power of population being
left to exert itself unchecked, the increase of the human species
would evidently be much greater than any increase that has been
hitherto known.

In the United States of America, where the means of
subsistence have been more ample, the manners of the people more
pure, and consequently the checks to early marriages fewer, than
in any of the modern states of Europe, the population has been
found to double itself in twenty-five years.

This ratio of increase, though short of the utmost power of
population, yet as the result of actual experience, we will take
as our rule, and say, that population, when unchecked, goes on
doubling itself every twenty-five years or increases in a
geometrical ratio.

Let us now take any spot of earth, this Island for instance,
and see in what ratio the subsistence it affords can be supposed
to increase. We will begin with it under its present state of
cultivation.

If I allow that by the best possible policy, by breaking up
more land and by great encouragements to agriculture, the produce
of this Island may be doubled in the first twenty-five years, I
think it will be allowing as much as any person can well demand.

In the next twenty-five years, it is impossible to suppose
that the produce could be quadrupled. It would be contrary to all
our knowledge of the qualities of land. The very utmost that we
can conceive, is, that the increase in the second twenty-five
years might equal the present produce. Let us then take this for
our rule, though certainly far beyond the truth, and allow that,
by great exertion, the whole produce of the Island might be
increased every twenty-five years, by a quantity of subsistence
equal to what it at present produces. The most enthusiastic
speculator cannot suppose a greater increase than this. In a few
centuries it would make every acre of land in the Island like a
garden.

Yet this ratio of increase is evidently arithmetical.

It may be fairly said, therefore, that the means of
subsistence increase in an arithmetical ratio. Let us now bring
the effects of these two ratios together.

The population of the Island is computed to be about seven
millions, and we will suppose the present produce equal to the
support of such a number. In the first twenty-five years the
population would be fourteen millions, and the food being also
doubled, the means of subsistence would be equal to this
increase. In the next twenty-five years the population would be
twenty-eight millions, and the means of subsistence only equal to
the support of twenty-one millions. In the next period, the
population would be fifty-six millions, and the means of
subsistence just sufficient for half that number. And at the
conclusion of the first century the population would be one
hundred and twelve millions and the means of subsistence only
equal to the support of thirty-five millions, which would leave a
population of seventy-seven millions totally unprovided for.

A great emigration necessarily implies unhappiness of some
kind or other in the country that is deserted. For few persons
will leave their families, connections, friends, and native land,
to seek a settlement in untried foreign climes, without some
strong subsisting causes of uneasiness where they are, or the
hope of some great advantages in the place to which they are
going.

But to make the argument more general and less interrupted by
the partial views of emigration, let us take the whole earth,
instead of one spot, and suppose that the restraints to
population were universally removed. If the subsistence for man
that the earth affords was to be increased every twenty-five
years by a quantity equal to what the whole world at present
produces, this would allow the power of production in the earth
to be absolutely unlimited, and its ratio of increase much
greater than we can conceive that any possible exertions of
mankind could make it.

Taking the population of the world at any number, a thousand
millions, for instance, the human species would increase in the
ratio of--1, 2, 4, 8, 16, 32, 64, 128, 256, 512, etc. and
subsistence as--1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, etc. In two
centuries and a quarter, the population would be to the means of
subsistence as 512 to 10: in three centuries as 4096 to 13, and
in two thousand years the difference would be almost
incalculable, though the produce in that time would have
increased to an immense extent.

No limits whatever are placed to the productions of the
earth; they may increase for ever and be greater than any
assignable quantity, yet still the power of population being a
power of a superior order, the increase of the human species can
only be kept commensurate to the increase of the means of
subsistence by the constant operation of the strong law of
necessity acting as a check upon the greater power.

The effects of this check remain now to be considered.

Among plants and animals the view of the subject is simple.
They are all impelled by a powerful instinct to the increase of
their species, and this instinct is interrupted by no reasoning
or doubts about providing for their offspring. Wherever therefore
there is liberty, the power of increase is exerted, and the
superabundant effects are repressed afterwards by want of room
and nourishment, which is common to animals and plants, and among
animals by becoming the prey of others.

The effects of this check on man are more complicated.
Impelled to the increase of his species by an equally powerful
instinct, reason interrupts his career and asks him whether he
may not bring beings into the world for whom he cannot provide
the means of subsistence. In a state of equality, this would be
the simple question. In the present state of society, other
considerations occur. Will he not lower his rank in life? Will he
not subject himself to greater difficulties than he at present
feels? Will he not be obliged to labour harder? and if he has a
large family, will his utmost exertions enable him to support
them? May he not see his offspring in rags and misery, and
clamouring for bread that he cannot give them? And may he not be
reduced to the grating necessity of forfeiting his independence,
and of being obliged to the sparing hand of charity for support?

These considerations are calculated to prevent, and certainly
do prevent, a very great number in all civilized nations from
pursuing the dictate of nature in an early attachment to one
woman. And this restraint almost necessarily, though not
absolutely so, produces vice. Yet in all societies, even those
that are most vicious, the tendency to a virtuous attachment is
so strong that there is a constant effort towards an increase of
population. This constant effort as constantly tends to subject
the lower classes of the society to distress and to prevent any
great permanent amelioration of their condition.