It is generally maintained that there are two anarchist traditions in America, not one. Toward the end of the first quarter of the present century it became accepted practice for political scientists to draw a hard and fast distinction between philosophical anarchism and anarchist communism or collectivism on the grounds that the former did not embrace violence whereas the later did. Thus in 1926 Charles E. Merriam maintained that anarchist groups in the United States may be divided into the "philosophical and the fighting anarchists, one believing in the attainment of anarchy by the peaceful processes of evolution and the other by the employment of force and by revolution."¹ A few years later Westel W. Willoughby gave support to Merriam's definition when he maintained that the philosophical anarchist is to be distinguished from the anarchist of deed or of action on the grounds that the former believes that anarchism must be established by the peaceful processes of persuasion and enlightenment, whereas the latter does not believe that society will naturally evolve toward its perfection without the assistance of the revolutionary act.² This neat but misleading dichotomy has dogged the anarchist movement ever since with the persistence of a shadow. But a careful study of anarchist theory reveals that the division of anarchist ideas into two separate categories on the basis of whether or not violence is considered a legitimate social means is not a valid distinction.

In constructing a rigid dichotomy which placed philosophical anarchism in opposition to revolutionary anarchism, political scientists greatly oversimplified the theory, thereby causing it to appear uninviting in the eyes of succeeding generations of Americans. But the anarchist movement in America, like its counterpart in other countries, is not given to simplicity of classification and analysis. Wherever this has been attempted, anarchism has been portrayed in a false manner. This, perhaps, is forgivable in the practicing politician or popular journalist. But it is unforgivable in the political scientist. It is to be noted, however, that the facts which surrounded the anarchist movement in the days of Merriam and Willoughby suggested the interpretation they gave it. Given the ideological climate of their period of history, the conclusions they reached were honest and made perfect sense. With the passage of time, these same facts have taken on new significance, which undoubtedly accounts for the numerous books which have recently attempted to reinterpret the meaning of the anarchist idea. This paper will attempt to put the theory of anarchism in a perspective which is more in keeping with its true nature as its advocates on the contemporary social scene see it.³ Turning to the history of the anarchist idea in America, an attempt will be made to demonstrate that the conviction that violence must be deliberately created in order to carry off a successful social revolution was not a necessary principle in the mind of any reputable American anarchist, whether he be classified as an individualist or communist collectivism

The movement of philosophical anarchism, or native American anarchism as it is often called, developed spontaneously out of American culture and never established formal contact of any kind with anarchist movements in other parts of the world. The first anarchists in this country might be said to be the Antinomians, Quakers, and other left-wing religious groups who found the authority, dogma, and formalism of the conventional churches intolerable. Given to a pacifist approach to war, these groups eschewed formal organization as much as possible, only permitting themselves to join with other like-minded individuals in very loosely constructed antiwar federations such as the American Peace Society (founded in 1828), the New England Non-Resistance Society (founded in 1838), and the Universal Peace Union (founded in 1866).⁴ Most of these early American anarchists arrived at their political convictions as a reaction to the hypocrisy and social irresponsibility which they felt characterized the organized church movement. Starting as members of one conventional church or another, the native American anarchists, while perhaps continuing to refer to themselves as Christians, developed a political outlook which emphasized the anti-libertarian nature of the state and government. Adin Ballou, founder of the Hopedale Community, was perhaps typical of those who embraced philosophical anarchism as the result of meandering along the byways of Christian unorthodoxy and dissent.⁵ Referring back to the early centuries of Christian communism as the source of his authority, Ballou stoutly maintained that the essence of Christian morality is the rejection of force, compromise, and the very institution of government itself. Ballou, unlike many of his contemporaries, did not define pacifism as a passive act but one which may well involve the individual in an active opposition to his government when it engages itself in the business of war. A Christian is not merely to refrain from committing personal acts of violence but is to take positive steps to prevent the state from carrying out its warlike ambitions. Ballou's attitude in this regard, according to Roy Finch, "represents a change from a conservative, individually-oriented pacifism to a radical, social action pacifism," making him one of the early theorists of the nonviolent movement in this country.⁶ Obviously in this phase of its development, philosophical anarchism was indeed indigenous to America, a natural outgrowth of its religious ethos.⁷ But the development of anarchism in America was by no means confined to those who had been inspired by a religious idea, as Ballou had been. In fact the greater part of its impetus was derived from non-religious sources which owed almost nothing, excepting the force of reaction, to Christianity.

In the second phase of its development, philosophical anarchism was inspired by the idea of individualism. Arising spontaneously in a number of different places throughout the country, the adherents of the individualist idea gradually came together in a loose movement. Josiah Warren, the "first American anarchist," also had the distinction of publishing the first anarchist periodical in America, the Peaceful Revolutionist, which was founded in 1833. Other Americans joined with Warren in proclaiming the state the enemy rather than the friend of the individual. Lysander Spooner, Stephen Pearl Andrews, Ezra Heywood, and William B. Greene all concurred in maintaining that the only legitimate form of social control is self-discipline which the individual must impose upon himself without the aid of government. Where the state imposes its force upon the individual, society is bound to suffer. This is as true in the area of economics as it is in regard to the restraint and punishment of crime. Having been inspired by the writings of Warren, philosophical anarchists formed together in the 1860's into two loose federations, the New England Labor Reform League and the American Labor Reform League. Essentially anarchist in outlook, these two leagues were the source of radical vitality in America for several decades.

An interesting aspect of this period of American history is that many native American anarchists apparently anticipated the essentials of the philosophical viewpoint Pierre-Joseph Proudhon was developing independently at the same time in France and Belgium. The writings of Proudhon, therefore, were quickly assimilated by American anarchists when they began to appear on the bookshelves in this country. The outstanding figure among the native American anarchists was Benjamin Tucker who first gained prominence in radical circles for his translation of Proudhon's What Is Property? Starting in 1875 as associate editor of Ezra Heywood's Word, the unofficial mouthpiece of the labor reform leagues, Tucker soon established a journal of his own, The Radical Review, and later his famous Liberty. Tucker is generally acknowledged as the chief political theorist of philosophical anarchism in America despite the fact that almost all his writing was confined to his duties as editor of Liberty. Drawing heavily upon the writings of Americans such as Spooner, Greene, and Heywood, and Europeans such as Spencer, Stirner, Bakunin and Proudhon, Tucker worked out a synthesis of anarchist theory which quickly became a vital source of inspiration and enlightenment for other Americans who were searching for a radical social perspective.⁸ No American anarchist before or since, with the exception of Thoreau, has enjoyed the popularity that Tucker did.

Anarchism, as Tucker defined it, was essentially a rejection of all formalism, authority, and force in the interest of liberating the creative capacities of the individual. Reflecting the philosophical assumptions that characterized the viewpoint of Proudhon, Tucker took the difficult position that the anarchist must remove himself from the arena of politics, refusing to implicate himself in groups or associations which have as their end the control or manipulation of political power. For political power not only corrupts but it completely destroys all efforts to create a meaningful social world when it encourages the individual to rely heavily upon the guiding hand of government. Like Proudhon, then, Tucker ruled out the concepts of parliamentary and constitutional government and in general placed himself and the anarchist movement outside the tradition of democracy as it had developed in America. For Tucker no less than for Proudhon, the state was the source of the evil within society. It should, therefore, be abjured and eventually abolished. That it purported to be a democratic state did not alter the case one bit, since democracy, in the anarchist view, is little more than a succession of high-sounding phrases which ultimately prove to be without real significance. From Proudhon, Tucker had learned that the state is a myth, an idea, a conception, which obtains its power to the extent that the individual, acting as mass man, acknowledges it and obeys its commands. When we recognize the state and its ends as legitimate, we become guilty of providing it with power and substance. Many people find it difficult to understand the anarchist's position in this regard. What the anarchist believes, in essence, is that the state, rather than being a real structure or entity, is nothing more than a conception. To destroy the state then, is to remove this conception from the mind of the individual.

The individualist anarchists generally took the position, following Proudhon, that the act of revolution is not political at all and has nothing whatever to do with the actual overthrow of the existing governmental machinery. Reflecting the nineteenth-century idea of progress, Proudhon maintained that a true revolution can only take place as mankind becomes enlightened. Revolution is not imminent, therefore, although it may well be inevitable. The one thing that is certain is that revolution takes place not by a concerted uprising of the masses but through a process of individual social reformation or awakening. Proudhon, like Tucker and the native American anarchists, believed that the function of anarchism is essentially educational. When enough people are convinced that it is futile to seek the reformation of society through the employment of political power, the actual machinery of government will be destroyed through atrophy. But since it is unlikely that the general enlightenment of mankind will take place any time soon, philosophical anarchists would not and could not discuss the idea of revolution in anything but the most general terms. It was this that was responsible for the charge of quietism that was often directed at them. But while Tucker drew heavily upon Proudhon in regard to theory, he leaned upon Thoreau and the American tradition of nonviolent resistance when it came to the question of strategy, although Proudhon, to be sure, might well be said to belong within this tradition too.⁹

Obviously influenced by Thoreau's example, Tucker refused to pay the taxes the state attempted to levy on his personal property on the grounds that to pay them would make the idea of taxation appear legitimate in the minds of other citizens. Taxation is not legitimate, according to Tucker, for it robs the individual of self-sufficiency and self-determination, not to speak of the fact that government inevitably uses a great part of the revenue it collects for the purpose of waging war and other immoral acts. In the matter of taxation as well as in every other instance in which the state attempts to impose its will upon its subjects, the individual ought to fight it with acts of "propaganda by deed."¹⁰ Tucker, a convinced pacifist, held that all resort to the manipulation of political power and force is ruled out as a possible means of action. The anarchist must never employ violence or any other means which hints of compulsion or coercion. A true act of "propaganda by deed," according to Tucker, is always characterized by a sincere, nonviolent attitude on the part of the resistant. Like all anarchists, ethical considerations were always uppermost in Tucker's mind. Although a self-professed atheist, there was, according to one of his disciples, a touch of high moral fervor which hints of Quakerism running throughout his teachings regarding politics.¹¹ When one places his will against that of the state, Tucker argued, the principles which determine one's action ought to be derived from considerations of moral beauty and truth. For it is the individual, and not the state, who is capable of developing a capacity for moral and social life. The state will be abolished at the point at which people in general have become convinced of its unsocial nature. In the meantime the compelling duty of the anarchist is to bear witness through his personal actions to the futility of attempting to build a meaningful society through cooperation with government. Only the free individual, cooperating with other free individuals, can hope to be successful in building a better world. The courageous individual performs an act of "propaganda by deed" every time he personally resists the enticements of Leviathan. When enough people resist it to the point of ignoring it altogether, the state will have been destroyed as completely as a scrap of paper is when it is tossed into a roaring fire. Obviously Tucker was a direct descendant of Jefferson as well as Proudhon and had much in common with the viewpoints worked out independently by Emerson, Thoreau, and Walt Whitman. Those who argue that the anarchist idea has never had any appeal for Americans have not taken this aspect of American history into consideration. As Herbert L. Osgood, one of the first political scientists to address himself to the problem of interpreting American anarchism, wrote: "Anarchism ... is, like socialism, a natural product of our economic and political conditions. It is to be treated as such, both theoretically and practically. Anarchism is a product of democracy. It is as much at home on American soil as on European."¹²

Much of the confusion surrounding the history of anarchism in the United States initially stems from the stormy figure of Johann Most who dominated the movement for a decade starting in 1882. Most, who never succeeded in overcoming the appearance and mannerisms of his Germanic origins, was greatly misunderstood by Americans. It was indeed difficult for many Americans to know what he really believed, for his writing was mainly confined to Freiheit which was printed in German. Most toured the country, speaking before many different groups, and this was widely reported in the press. But being an immigrant, Most never succeeded in overcoming the suspicion and hostility of the public in his adopted land. How could he when his following was largely recruited from the waves of European immigrants who descended upon our shores during the years when our doors were opened wide? When the bomb exploded in Haymarket Square, it was a foregone conclusion that the tide of public sentiment would run against the anarchist movement, for its American origins had by this time been obscured by the foreign appearance of the European radicals and syndicalists who now formed its majority. We may quickly dismiss Most, for not only did he fail to contribute anything significant to the theory of anarchism but his many inconsistencies make it questionable whether he was really an anarchist at all in any real sense of the term. At any rate, he had little real influence upon the development of the anarchist idea in America other than being the cause of much of the opprobrium which was brought down on the movement at this time.

A disciple for a time of Johann Most and destined to succeed him as the recognized leader of American anarchism, Emma Goldman came to anarchism because of her inability to compromise with social injustice. Yet as Richard Drinnon has clearly shown, Emma Goldman, like all anarchists around the turn of the century, was a victim of the ideological distortion which characterized the times.¹³ A Russian Jew by birth, she was portrayed by the popular press as a vile and unsavory devotee of revolutionary violence. But a sober reading of her utterances in Mother Earth reveals her to be anything but an advocate of nihilistic terrorism.

A highly sensitive individual whose interests in philosophical questions stemmed from a refined social consciousness, Emma Goldman, like all anarchists, was a staunch foe of the idea of militarism and the primitive notion that justice is nothing more than a reflection of the will of the strongest amongst us. In her youth, to be sure, she allowed her enthusiasm for social justice to lead her into collaboration with Alexander Berkman in an attempt to assassinate Henry C. Frick whom she viewed as the personification of all the evils of industrial capitalism. But as Drinnon points out in his magnificant biography, Emma Goldman was later to realize that this act was a youthful indiscretion completely out of tune with the principles of anarchism. She could not, of course, completely wave aside the blot on her early record. But in her maturity her life and action reveal her as being a spiritual descendant of the American tradition of nonviolence.

Perhaps what was mainly responsible for the misunderstanding which came to attach itself to her image was her adamant refusal to consider social violence as an unnatural phenomenon. Like Kropotkin, Emma Goldman believed that violence is the natural consequence of repression and force. The state, in her opinion, sows the seeds of violence when it lends its authority and force to the retardation of social change, thereby creating deep-seated feelings of injustice and desperation in the collective unconscious. "I do not advocate violence, government does this, and force begets force," Emma Goldman proclaimed. "It is a fact which cannot be done away with through the prosecution of a few men and women, or by more stringent laws. . . ."¹⁴ The individual does not freely will to commit an act of retribution against the social system but is forced into it by a conspiracy upon the part of those whose interests lead them to preserve the existing order against all change. In defense of McKinley's assassin, Leon Czlogosz, Emma Goldman took issue with all those, including some radicals, who condemned his action on the argument that it was a useless act. We can no more measure an act of social violence by its practical utility, she argued, than we can understand the usefulness of a tornado or cyclone. In each instance nature has a logic of its own which is not immediately apparent to the observer. Czolgosz's deed resists all understanding unless we view it against the total social context of which it was a part.¹⁵ Were we able to take an objective view of what Czolgosz has done, she argued, we would probably find that his act was as much a reaction to social events he experienced as lightning and thunder are a direct consequence of atmospheric conditions. It is not the instinct of cruelty or any other criminal tendency that causes an individual such as Czolgosz to strike down the highest public official he can get at. On the contrary, Emma Goldman maintained, too often it is a strong social instinct and a desire to express a deep love of mankind that lies behind an act of assassination. Social violence is never arbitrary and meaningless. There is always a deep-seated cause standing behind every deed. However much sympathy we may have for the victim of an assassination, we must nevertheless see that its perpetrator is never fully in control of his own actions but is merely a small cog in a vast social machine. Social violence, she argued, will naturally disappear at the point at which men have learned to understand and accommodate themselves to one another within a dynamic society which truly values human freedom. Until then we can expect to see the pent up hostility and frustration of certain individuals and groups explode from time to time with the spontaneity and violence of a volcano. We will be the wiser, according to Emma Goldman, when we learn to look on such cataclysms with the detachment of a geologist viewing an eruption of the earth's crust. To judge Czolgosz in terms of theological or conventional moral presuppositions is both primitive and unscientific.

But it is misleading to dwell too long upon Emma Goldman's theory of social violence to the exclusion of the other significant events of her fruitful life. This, in fact, is the very reason why she has been so completely misunderstood. When we view her life in total perspective we discover that she was dedicated to the cause of peace and was an unyielding enemy of the institution of war. Like the native American anarchists of her adopted land, Emma Goldman believed that the only practical way to eliminate war was to educate men to reject it as incompatible with their basic social and ethical convictions. And thus it was that she lectured all over the United States in denunciation of the Spanish-American War and later throughout England and Scotland against the Boer War. It was for her opposition to America's entry into World War I and her organization of the No-Conscription League that she was arrested, sentenced to two years in prison, and later deported under the terms of the Espionage Act of 1917. What is of interest here is that Emma Goldman, whatever the political labels that became attached to her may have been, was an ardent and dedicated opponent of organized violence and bloodshed. Had she been born a few years sooner, and in the United States instead of Russia, she would undoubtedly have found herself welcomed with open arms into the ranks of the native American anarchists. It should also be kept in mind that Emma Goldman's interests were never political but always social and literary. As a consequence she was in the vanguard of every libertarian movement of her time, indefatigably laboring to effect the enlightenment and betterment of mankind. It was as editor of Mother Earth that she collected funds to defend the Sangers in their efforts to disseminate information on birth control, and she herself served fifteen days in the workhouse for lecturing on the subject. Nor is it usually remembered that Emma Goldman's anarchist activity was largely confined to such pursuits as lecturing on modern drama and aesthetics. Completely unpolitical in character, she refused to lead men by their noses, persisting to the end in the belief that reason and goodwill will eventually triumph. At no time in her life did she advocate the legitimacy of political parties. Her sympathies for the poor and the working class were enormous, as was her capacity to love and comfort her friends and lovers. Yet she never allowed her frustrations to lead her to the barricades. It is true that toward the end of her life she supported the Spanish anarchists in their fight against fascism, visiting Barcelona and even making a journey to the front where she watched the anarchist troops trade shots with Franco's snipers. But she did not exult in this violence but rather deplored it, even though she recognized the situation as being inevitable under the given circumstances. If this makes her an advocate of the principle of violence, then the vast majority of men throughout the world who fail to take action to stop a war once it has started must also be called advocates of the principle of violence. The most that can be said against Emma Goldman was that she was not an absolute pacifist and that she would not equivocate with injustice or falsehood. To her credit it must be acknowledged that her battlefield was the lecture hall and the weapon of her choice her rapier-like logic. If she was guilty of violence it was the same kind of violence for which Socrates was put to death. It was not the actual machinery of government which Emma Goldman labored to tear down, but the myth and illusion which trick men into supporting their governments when there is a conflict between moral and political obligation. As more and more historians are coming to see, the caricature of Emma Goldman as an irresponsible malcontent is a distortion wholly out of keeping with the facts. Blinded by its own ideology, America for many years could not bring itself to understand one of its most precocious adopted children. And when it had succeeded in convincing itself that the enfant terrible it had created was the prototype of all anarchists, it became inevitable that the philosophy of anarchism should become impervious to our understanding.

When one turns to the more recent literature of anarchism in America, the supposed antithesis regarding violence and revolution between philosophical and collectivist anarchists becomes even more blurred and indistinct. According to anachists themselves, it is misleading to dwell too much on the distinction between the philosophical and collectivist viewpoints. One of the dangers here, according to David Thoreau Wieck, editor of the now defunct anarchist journal Resistance,¹⁶ is that some people desire to portray philosophical anarchism as an integral part of the liberal tradition in America, emphasizing its basic compatibility with the principle of laissez faire. But it is a form of "propagandists opportunism" to portray philosophical anarchism as American, whereupon by implication anarchist communism must become un-American."¹⁷ In the first place, this makes it appear that liberalism and philosophical anarchism are compatible philosophies, whereas the truth is that they hold radically different theories concerning the nature and the function of the state. And secondly, but even more important, such a distinction leads the unsuspecting to conclude that there are fundamental differences within the anarchist movement regarding the feasability of violent revolution, whereas the truth is that there is no essential difference between them in this regard.

It can not be stated too emphatically that all anarchists, whether they be called individualists or collectivists, are as one in regard to the conviction that a revolution is a social and not a political phenomenon. Russell Blackwell, one of the foremost American anarchists today, points out that the nature of the revolution advocated by anarchism does not in any instance rely upon force or violence. "... the old order is seldom 'overthrown' but collapses of its own weight in the crises. . . ."¹⁸ The crucial distinction between the nature of the revolution advocated by anarchists and that of other political ideologies, according to Blackwell, is that the anarchist revolution must in no instance utilize the antisocial principles of hierarchy, bureaucracy, and authoritarian discipline. Anarchists recognize, of course, that order is essential to social life and that some form of social organization is necessary if chaos is to be avoided. But this order must come from the people and not from organized government. For where the people fail to develop self-discipline, resort is inevitably made to the police powers, the courts, and penal institutions. Such formal methods of social control, however, are antithetical to the goal of human freedom. As Blackwell puts it in his own words:

Any society to function requires order, and the libertarians must see that this order is imposed from below in response to the popular will, and not institutionalized along dictatorial lines. No State forms must be allowed to coalesce, no regular police force must be permitted since every State, with its police and armed forces is in essence dictatorial and therefore counter-revolutionary. Control of the revolution must be in the hands of the autonomous groups in the social base. As the conquests of the revolution become solidified, the danger of authoritarian influence for a time will increase. This can only be combatted by constant vigilance, and above all by activity involving ever more people in roles of social responsibility. The preservation of maximum autonomy is of the essence for without it the fundamental revolutionary values are lost.¹⁹

As Blackwell's words make clear, anarchism is unalterably opposed to the creation of artificial social control through conventional political means. Unlike conservatives and liberals who rely heavily upon government to regulate the affairs of people, anarchists are extremely suspicious of any organized agencies of coercion. As Sam Weiner, one of the founders of the Libertarian League has written: "We have nothing to fear so long as no group in society is given political power to rule over others; no one, and no one group must have coercive, police power. This is why anarchists are AT ALL TIMES, for the abolition of the state and centralized control."²⁰ Anarchists reject the institution of organized police power because it violates the basic principle of individual freedom. Where government imposes order upon society through the employment of techniques of coercion and force, the individual is denied the right to regulate and discipline himself. And even more important, people who have been coerced into order over any appreciable period of time become habituated to force and soon forget how to discipline themselves.

When the anarchist speaks of revolution, then, he makes no reference to the political act of acquiring power through a coup. The anarchist, in fact, is totally opposed to the very idea of political change by means of the revolutionary act. For as Bertrand de Jouvenal has written, "the true historical function of revolutions is to renovate and strengthen Power."²¹ The ostensible purpose of any revolution is always said to be the advancement of social progress and humanity. But as Jouvenal points out, the ultimate effect of revolution is always to free power of the restraints which previously limited it, thereby giving it new vigor and prestige. When the anarchist speaks of revolution and the overthrow of the state, what he calls for is not a political act but one that is purely social. The state is not a physical entity which can be destroyed by dynamite or gunpowder. The English anarchist Nicolas Walter, quoting from Landauer's Die Revolution, points out that the state is a mode of human behavior and a type of relationship between people rather than an institution of physical form or substance.²² We overthrow the state when we withdraw our support from it, refusing any longer to obey its commands. But in order to do this, we must first enter into a new social relationship with our fellowmen, thereby making the existence of the state superfluous. When men decide to live together in the spirit of mutual aid that Kropotkin described as natural to them, the state, according to the anarchist, will turn to dust and ashes of its own accord and not because men have physically destroyed it. In America today, all anarchists, from the collectivists represented by the Libertarian League and Dorothy Day's Catholic Worker movement to the individualists of Mildred Loomis' Green Revolution, are in essential agreement that the social revolution must be nonviolent and unpolitical in character. When we view anarchist theory in this way, it is not incorrect to say that all anarchists are "philosophical," whether they are classified as individualists or collectivists. Conversely, it is incorrect to conclude that all anarchist communists or collectivists favor the employment of violence, or that anarchism, as a political theory, supports the principle that violence as a means is justifiable if its end is revolutionary. To be clear on this point is to view anarchism from an entirely different perspective.

1 American Political Ideas (New York: Macmillan, 1926), p. 349.

2 The Ethical Basis of Political Authority (New York: Macmillan, 1930), p. 43.

3 One of the difficulties of any attempt to study the theory of anarchism is the impossibility of arriving at any exact breakdown of the idea. Paul Eltzbacher in his notable work Anarchism, first published in German in 1900, focused upon the writings of seven leading representatives of the idea and was personally satisfied that he had cleared away the confusion of interpretation and analysis which had previously prevented its scientific definition. But it is now clear that Eltzbacher's study, while full of valuable insights and suggestions, is by no means a definitive work. The edition I have used here is the English translation by Steven T. Byington which was first published by Benjamin Tucker in 1907 and which was reissued by the Libertarian Book Club in 1960.

4 For details of the American peace movement, see Merle Curti, Peace or War: The American Struggle 1636-1936 (New York: Norton, 1936).

5 For a discussion of Ballou's philosophical outlook, see my article "The Philosophical Anarchism of Adin Ballou," Huntington Library Quarterly, Vol. 27 (1964).

6 "The New Peace Movement -- I," Dissent, 10 (1963), 90.

7 A general treatment of the movement is found in Eunice Minette Schuster, "Native American Anarchism: A Study of Left-Wing American Individualism," Smith College Studies in History, Vol. 17 (1931-1932).

8 The best study of Tucker, as well as the whole movement of native American Anarchism, is found in James J. Martin, Men Against the State (New York: Libertarian Book Club, 1957).

9 For a description of Proudhon's theory which emphasizes its nonviolent undertones, see my article "Pierre-Joseph Proudhon: One of the Fathers of Philosophical Anarchism," Journal of Human Relations, Vol. 13 (1965).

10 See Victor S. Yarros, "Philosophical Anarchism (1880-1910)" Journal of Social Philosophy, 6 (1941), 251. See also Yarros, "Philosophical Anarchism: Its Rise, Decline, and Eclipse," America Journal of Sociology, Vol. 41 (1936); and "Individualist or Philosophical Anarchism," The New Encyclopedia of Social Reform, ed. William D. P. Bliss and Rudolph M. Binder (New York: Funk, 1908).

11 "Yarros, "Philosophical Anarchism (1880-1910)," p. 251.

12 Herbert L. Osgood, Socialism and Anarchism (Boston, 1889), pp. 30-31. Originally published under the title, "Scientific Anarchism," Political Science Quarterly, Vol. 4 (1889).

13 Rebel in Paradise (Chicago: U. of Chicago Press, 1961).

14 "The Tragedy of Buffalo," The Revolutionary Almanac, p. 56.

15 Richard Drinnon makes out a good case for the view that Czolgosz was actually a demented youth who had only a vague idea of what anarchism was all about. Drinnon also points out that in her speech at Cleveland, which was used to prove that she had incited Czolgosz to violent action, Emma Goldman "... took occasion to attack the popular misconception that anarchism meant bomb throwing and general violence. She for one, she declared, did not believe in violence; she added that anarchism in any case had no necessary connection with violence," op. cit., p. 68.

16 There seems to be a move underway to publish Resistance again, although it may appear under a new title.

17 Review of Rudolph Rocker's Pioneers of American Freedom, in Resistance, Vol. 8 (1949).

18 "Autonomy and Responsibility," Towards Anarchism, No. 50 (1965), 9.

19 "Resolution of the Italian Anarchist Federation," Towards Anarchism, No. 50 (1965), 25.

20"Direct Action and the New Pacifism" Anarchy, No. 13 (March 1962), 74.

21 On Power (Boston: Beacon Press, 1962), p. 218.

22 "Direct Action and the New Pacifism," loc. cit.