Four Utopian Communities That Didn't Pan Out
Every once in a while, a proud little community will sprout up just to let the world know how Utopia should be run. With chins raised almost as high as ideals, the community marches forth to be an example of perfection. But in most cases, all that harmonious marching gets tripped up pretty quickly. Here are four "perfect" communities that whizzed and sputtered thanks to human nature.
http://mentalfloss.com/article/23297/4-utopian-communities-didnt-pan-out
Every once in a while, a proud little community will sprout up just to let the world know how Utopia should be run. With chins raised almost as high as ideals, the community marches forth to be an example of perfection. But in most cases, all that harmonious marching gets tripped up pretty quickly. Here are four "perfect" communities that whizzed and sputtered thanks to human nature.
http://mentalfloss.com/article/23297/4-utopian-communities-didnt-pan-out
1
Brook Farm (or, Ripley's Follow Me or Not) Perhaps the best-known utopian community in America, Brook Farm was founded in 1841 in West Roxbury, Massachusetts, by George and Sophia Ripley. The commune was built on a 200-acre farm with four buildings and centered on the ideals of radical social reform and self-reliance. For free tuition in the community school and one year's worth of room and board, the residents were asked to complete 300 days of labor by either farming, working in the manufacturing shops, performing domestic chores or grounds maintenance, or planning the community's recreation projects. The community prospered in 1842"“1843 and was visited by numerous dignitaries and utopian writers. However, Ripley joined the unpopular Fourierism movement, which meant that soon the young people (out of a "sense of honor") had to do all the dirty work like repairing roads, cleaning stables, and slaughtering the animals. This caused many residents, especially the younger ones, to leave. Things went downhill from there. The community was hit by an outbreak of smallpox followed by fire and finally collapsed in 1847. |
2
Fruitlands: A Utopian Community (for Six Months Anyway) After visiting Brook Farm and finding it almost too worldly by their standards, Bronson Alcott (the father of Louisa May) and Charles Lane founded the Fruitlands Commune in June 1843, in Harvard, Massachusetts. Structured around the British reformist model, the commune's members were against the ownership of property, were political anarchists, believed in free love, and were vegetarians. The group of 11 adults and a small number of children were forbidden to eat meat or use any animal products such as honey, wool, beeswax, or manure. They were also not allowed to use animals for labor and only planted produce that grew up out of the soil so as not to disturb worms and other organisms living in the soil. Many in the group of residents saw manual labor as spiritually inhibiting and soon it became evident that the commune could not provide enough food to sustain its members. The strict diet of grains and fruits left many in the group malnourished and sick. Given this situation, many of the members left and the community collapsed in January 1844. |
3
The Shakers Officially known as the United Society of Believers in Christ's Second Appearing, the Shakers were founded in Manchester, England, in 1747. As a group of dissenting Quakers under the charismatic leadership of Mother Ann Lee, the Shakers came to America in 1774. Like most reformist movements of the time, the Shakers were agriculturally based, and believed in common ownership of all property and the confession of sins. Unlike most of the other groups, the Shakers practiced celibacy, or the lack of procreation. Membership came via converts or by adopting children. Shaker families consisted of "brothers" and "sisters" who lived in gender-segregated communal homes of up to 100 individuals. During the required Sunday community meetings it was not uncommon for members to break into a spontaneous dance, thus giving them the Shaker label. As pacifists they were exempted from military service and became the United States' first conscientious objectors during the Civil War. Currently, however, there isn't a whole lot of Shaking going on. As the younger members left the community, converts quit coming, and the older ones died off, many of the communities were forced to close. Of the original 19 communities, most had closed by the early 1900s. |
4
Pullman's Capitalist Utopia Located 15 miles south of Chicago, the town of Pullman was founded in the 1880s by George Pullman (of luxury railway car fame) as a utopian community based on the notion that capitalism was the best way to meet all material and spiritual needs. According to Pullman's creed, the community was built to provide Pullman's employees with a place where they could exercise proper moral values and where each resident had to adhere to the strict tenets of capitalism under the direction and leadership of Pullman. The community was run on a for-profit basis—the town had to return a profit of 7% annually. This was done by giving the employees two paychecks, one for rent, which was automatically turned back in to Pullman, and one for everything else. Interestingly, the utopian community had very rigid social class barriers, with the management and skilled workers living in stately homes and the unskilled laborers living in tenements. The experiment lasted longer than many of the other settlements, but ultimately failed. Pullman began demanding more and more rent to offset company losses, while union sentiment grew among the employee residents. |
“Why Utopias Fail”
Paradise once existed, so we’re told, in Eden, Arcadia or Shambhala. Paradise will again be ours in the afterlife if we reach Heaven, Valhalla or the Happy Hunting Grounds. Unfortunately, paradise in the present has always been elusive. Not for lack of trying. Utopian experiments have been attempted at every step in the march of civilization. Why haven’t any of them succeeded?
For one thing, the bar is constantly being raised. Life in a modest American town today would have been the envy of the Middle Ages. But such a community, with its technology, infrastructure or freedoms, could never have come into being in the Middle Ages; and if it somehow magically appeared, it would have promptly been sacked. For most of history, this raised a significant obstacle to utopia. Any land of milk and honey automatically attracted swords and muskets.
The New World changed that. Small groups could organize civilized communities based on any peculiar theory, with little concern for conquering hordes. All they had to do was be economically and socially viable. This new opportunity spawned a flood of utopian experiments, beginning with the first colonists.
Most school children know that the Mayflower pilgrims came to America to escape the persecution they encountered in Europe. A more obscure fact was that the Plymouth Colony was originally organized as a communal society, with an equal sharing of the fruits of everyone’s labor. At least, that was the plan. Their governor, William Bradford, documented how this degenerated over the next two years into “injustice,” “indignity” and “a kind of slavery.” Productivity was shot, and the community starved. Bradford wisely placed the blame not on the flaws of his people, but on the system their society had chosen. They abandoned communal ownership and, lo and behold, the fields sprouted with life.
As Bradford writes:
“They had very good success, for it made all hands very industrious, so as much more corn was planted than otherwise would have been. The women now went willingly into the field, and took their little ones with them to set corn. … By this time harvest was come, and instead of famine, now God gave them plenty, and the faces of things were changed, to the rejoicing of the hearts of many.”
Hundreds of utopian experiments followed Plymouth–religious and secular, communist and individualistic, radical and moderate. But all had to make impossible sacrifices in the service of their ideals. The Shakers and Harmonists were very successful economically, and bound tightly in a common spirituality. However, their way of keeping a lid on worldly desires was to practice celibacy. Now, anyone who has raised children knows what a resource drain they can be, and would not be surprised that communities without offspring could get ahead financially. Nevertheless, the celibate life had only so much appeal, and these sects eventually died off.
Many religious societies declined or disbanded after the loss of their founder. Others, such as the Perfectionists of Oneida who practiced group marriage, or the entrepreneurial Inspirationists at Amana, eventually gave up communal living, spun off their commercial interests and began assimilating into the surrounding communities.
Secular societies fared even worse, many of them repeating the lessons of Plymouth. Josiah Warren, a member of the celebrated New Harmony commune that collapsed under collectivist strains, went on to found societies based on a decidedly more individualistic premise, including utopia in Ohio and Modern Times on Long Island. While economically successful, boundaries between the true believers and their neighbors dissolved over time. Today, the hamlet of Brentwood, N.Y., where Modern Times used to be, looks like the rest of its Long Island surroundings–pleasant enough, but no utopia.
The long series of failed experiments yields some interesting lessons. The first is that internal power grabs are even more poisonous to utopian dreams than external threats. The gold standard of utopian leadership, the benevolent prince or philosopher king, is inherently unstable. Solomon, Marcus Aurelius and Suleiman the Magnificent failed utterly to provide successors with anything like their talents.
The competition for succession invariably favors not the wise, but the ruthless. This is especially dangerous in communistic societies. Where selfishness is a sin or a crime, everyone is guilty; you don’t want your antagonists gaining the authority to sit in judgment. Democracy provides a more stable succession mechanism, but it is inherently factionalist. Even in Mormon Utah, a utopian experiment that fared better than most, there are factions out of power who are unhappy with things.
A second lesson is that ideals are constraints, and the more constraints one tries to impose, the less viable the community will be. It’s hard enough for a private company–an organization focused exclusively on economic success–to survive intact for multiple generations. Add to that special utopian claims on the firm by the employees and you can see how tough the odds are. The best bet is to run utopia as a business, which is exactly what many communities concluded.
Finally, if you’re going to suppress your members’ worldly desires, you need a mechanism for self-selection. Several religious sects, like the Old Order Amish, have successfully stifled material interests over multiple generations. Their people are happy because they don’t require much stuff. But they know that everyone can’t be kept in the fold. Anabaptist communities who believe that only adults can be meaningfully baptized provide this safety valve. The 10% of Amish who don’t stay allow the other 90% to maintain their culture.
While many people believe that utopias are doomed to failure because of human nature, it’s much more useful to approach utopia as the ultimate governance challenge. The U.S., itself, was a far more successful experiment because of that approach, expressed in James Madison’s view that, “If men were angels, no government would be necessary.”
http://www.forbes.com/2008/04/10/why-utopias-fail-oped-utopia08-cx_mh_0410hodak.html
Paradise once existed, so we’re told, in Eden, Arcadia or Shambhala. Paradise will again be ours in the afterlife if we reach Heaven, Valhalla or the Happy Hunting Grounds. Unfortunately, paradise in the present has always been elusive. Not for lack of trying. Utopian experiments have been attempted at every step in the march of civilization. Why haven’t any of them succeeded?
For one thing, the bar is constantly being raised. Life in a modest American town today would have been the envy of the Middle Ages. But such a community, with its technology, infrastructure or freedoms, could never have come into being in the Middle Ages; and if it somehow magically appeared, it would have promptly been sacked. For most of history, this raised a significant obstacle to utopia. Any land of milk and honey automatically attracted swords and muskets.
The New World changed that. Small groups could organize civilized communities based on any peculiar theory, with little concern for conquering hordes. All they had to do was be economically and socially viable. This new opportunity spawned a flood of utopian experiments, beginning with the first colonists.
Most school children know that the Mayflower pilgrims came to America to escape the persecution they encountered in Europe. A more obscure fact was that the Plymouth Colony was originally organized as a communal society, with an equal sharing of the fruits of everyone’s labor. At least, that was the plan. Their governor, William Bradford, documented how this degenerated over the next two years into “injustice,” “indignity” and “a kind of slavery.” Productivity was shot, and the community starved. Bradford wisely placed the blame not on the flaws of his people, but on the system their society had chosen. They abandoned communal ownership and, lo and behold, the fields sprouted with life.
As Bradford writes:
“They had very good success, for it made all hands very industrious, so as much more corn was planted than otherwise would have been. The women now went willingly into the field, and took their little ones with them to set corn. … By this time harvest was come, and instead of famine, now God gave them plenty, and the faces of things were changed, to the rejoicing of the hearts of many.”
Hundreds of utopian experiments followed Plymouth–religious and secular, communist and individualistic, radical and moderate. But all had to make impossible sacrifices in the service of their ideals. The Shakers and Harmonists were very successful economically, and bound tightly in a common spirituality. However, their way of keeping a lid on worldly desires was to practice celibacy. Now, anyone who has raised children knows what a resource drain they can be, and would not be surprised that communities without offspring could get ahead financially. Nevertheless, the celibate life had only so much appeal, and these sects eventually died off.
Many religious societies declined or disbanded after the loss of their founder. Others, such as the Perfectionists of Oneida who practiced group marriage, or the entrepreneurial Inspirationists at Amana, eventually gave up communal living, spun off their commercial interests and began assimilating into the surrounding communities.
Secular societies fared even worse, many of them repeating the lessons of Plymouth. Josiah Warren, a member of the celebrated New Harmony commune that collapsed under collectivist strains, went on to found societies based on a decidedly more individualistic premise, including utopia in Ohio and Modern Times on Long Island. While economically successful, boundaries between the true believers and their neighbors dissolved over time. Today, the hamlet of Brentwood, N.Y., where Modern Times used to be, looks like the rest of its Long Island surroundings–pleasant enough, but no utopia.
The long series of failed experiments yields some interesting lessons. The first is that internal power grabs are even more poisonous to utopian dreams than external threats. The gold standard of utopian leadership, the benevolent prince or philosopher king, is inherently unstable. Solomon, Marcus Aurelius and Suleiman the Magnificent failed utterly to provide successors with anything like their talents.
The competition for succession invariably favors not the wise, but the ruthless. This is especially dangerous in communistic societies. Where selfishness is a sin or a crime, everyone is guilty; you don’t want your antagonists gaining the authority to sit in judgment. Democracy provides a more stable succession mechanism, but it is inherently factionalist. Even in Mormon Utah, a utopian experiment that fared better than most, there are factions out of power who are unhappy with things.
A second lesson is that ideals are constraints, and the more constraints one tries to impose, the less viable the community will be. It’s hard enough for a private company–an organization focused exclusively on economic success–to survive intact for multiple generations. Add to that special utopian claims on the firm by the employees and you can see how tough the odds are. The best bet is to run utopia as a business, which is exactly what many communities concluded.
Finally, if you’re going to suppress your members’ worldly desires, you need a mechanism for self-selection. Several religious sects, like the Old Order Amish, have successfully stifled material interests over multiple generations. Their people are happy because they don’t require much stuff. But they know that everyone can’t be kept in the fold. Anabaptist communities who believe that only adults can be meaningfully baptized provide this safety valve. The 10% of Amish who don’t stay allow the other 90% to maintain their culture.
While many people believe that utopias are doomed to failure because of human nature, it’s much more useful to approach utopia as the ultimate governance challenge. The U.S., itself, was a far more successful experiment because of that approach, expressed in James Madison’s view that, “If men were angels, no government would be necessary.”
http://www.forbes.com/2008/04/10/why-utopias-fail-oped-utopia08-cx_mh_0410hodak.html