There have been many communities founded on Anarchist methods (or rather, lack of methods), but everyone has resulted in ignominious failure. From 1890 to 1894 there existed at Palmira, in Brazil, a community of 300 Italian Anarchists known as the Cecilia Community. Its object was to illustrate Anarchist teaching by practical example. The colonists were, indeed, a motley crowd; they included peasants, mechanics, criminals, professional men, illiterate men, and men highly trained—men of every shade of personal character, religious faith, and technical ability. Everyone had in his or her turn been an active propagandist of Anarchist theories, but yearned to see their practical application. The Cecilia Community, consequently, was founded that the unbelieving world might witness the possibility and desirability of living in a condition of absolute freedom, without laws or restrictions of any kind whatever. Everybody in Cecilia did as they “darned-well pleased.” There was no social organisation, no rules, no officials, and everyone was free to work or not, as he pleased. Anything which savoured of system was religiously tabooed as being contrary to the Anarchist evangel; there was no programme, no table of hours, no standard of efficiency of labour. Laws were relegated to limbo; voting and the settlement of differences by majority-rule, being contrary to Anarchist “principles,” were consigned to the same place. Their village, which they designated “Anarchy,” consisted of log-huts 6 feet long, 4 feet deep, and 9 feet high; some had a wooden flooring, but most had only the earth stamped down; a bed constituted the regulation furniture, but some possessed the luxury of a table. During their four years’ existence as a community their clothes remained the same, and presented a sorry picture of patchwork. Their diet consisted mainly of vegetables, and bacon was looked upon as a great luxury. One of the balance-sheets shows an item of £263 received from the Brazilian Government for mending roads, showing that the Anarchists were partly dependent on the enemy for their livelihood.

Dr. Rossi, one of the colonists, describing his experiences, says: “Our life was filled with a systematic spirit of contradiction, which caused us to lose many working hours in endless discussion; when we met in the evening, the noise of our conversation could be heard nearly a mile off, though the doors were shut.” Everywhere was universal mistrust, quarrelling, and back-biting; and of course Anarchist “principles” admitted of no method of remedying these evils. The result was soon seen. Acting in accordance with the Anarchist principle of separating, rather than submit to majority or any other rule, the larger number went its own way and the minority took up its position outside the communal land. But later on differences again sprang up, and, following the same and only permissible policy with Anarchists, they separated once more, and thus, instead of remaining one harmoniously-acting body, they became disunited into four. Shortly again, fresh differences showed themselves, and again they separated into eight parts, and so on, until, out of the 300 “emancipated” colonists but a mere handful remained, and the “community” was surrounded on all sides by minorities larger than itself. This last handful sold the place to a group of seceders, paid all the debts with the proceeds, and finally disbanded, having proved conclusively the impracticability and rank idiocy of Anarchist “principles” in practice.

In England there have been at least two Anarchist colonies. One was established in 1895 at Clousden Hill Farm, near Newcastle-on-Tyne, and was conducted on Anarchist-Communist principles. Some Anarchists resident in the vicinity of Newcastle and Sunderland had become impressed by an article by the Russian ex-prince Kropotkin (the leader of London Anarchists) in one of the magazines describing the “advanced” methods of agriculture in operation in Guernsey and the Channel Islands, where almost everything is reared under glass. In this article Kropotkin prophesied that “before long immense vineries would grow up round the coal-pits of Northumberland, where artificial heat can be obtained from coals selling at 3s. per ton.” With the financial assistance of a wealthy London Anarchist, the Newcastle “comrades” were enabled to purchase the farm before-mentioned, which they converted into an Anarchist colony. A portion of the land they covered with glass, and organised a poultry and dairy farm, besides vegetable gardens and orchards, the produce from which they despatched weekly to the local co-operative store and the Newcastle market. Their aim was “to give an object lesson” in Anarchism. The colonists, who comprised men and women of several nationalities, had large ideas regarding the regeneration of mankind, but, as is usually the case, forgot to apply them to themselves. The rule of the colony was no rule, everybody doing as he or she pleased, and disputes were supposed to be settled on “love and brotherhood” principles. Even the live stock on the farm approved the general Anarchist principle of do-as-you-like, for, according to one of the colonists, the fowls would not lay, the bees refused to swarm, the rabbits ran away, and the ducks died. One of their cows proved to be blind, another went mad, whilst a third died when calving. With horses matters fared no better. One fine-looking young beast became so infatuated with Anarchist principles of revolt that he contracted a habit of bolting whenever he was yoked; a second preferred lying down to pulling a load for tyrant man, and another manifested his contempt for things communal by kicking the front out of every cart to which he was harnessed.

Very few of the colonists had had any previous experience of the work they were undertaking. An amateur built a 30-feet smoke shaft, and disdained the use of such a simple tool as a plumb-line. The consequence was that the shaft refused to maintain its tower of Pisa-like position, and came to earth with a crash.

The colony prospered for a while, but when differences began to show themselves the members saw at once the impossibility of settling them amicably without discarding the Anarchist principles upon which the colony was founded. They flung Anarchy to the winds, and for days spent their time in framing sets of rules. But gradually the membership of the colony decreased until but twelve were left, of whom only six were voters. Will it be believed that among this six there actually were two parties?

The colony came to grief in a tangle of quarrelling. Two of the colonists bought their colleagues out, and started a flower business on their own account. This turned out a failure, and the affairs of the concern came before the Newcastle Bankruptcy Court in April, 1902.

In 1897 was founded the Whiteway Anarchist colony in Gloucestershire, which, I believe, exists to this day, but based on different principles. The colony was founded by Samuel Bracher, a Gloucester journalist, who, for £450, purchased a farm of 41 acres, provided implements, seeds, cattle, food, etc., in all spending some £1,200—his whole capital. At the beginning the colonists numbered only about eight, but ultimately the number rose to forty. Their first act was to show their contempt for “conventionality” by burning the title-deeds of the farm!

The colonists were, indeed, a curious crowd. They comprised a Leipsic doctor of philosophy, an Oxford tutor of Greek, a son of a wealthy Birmingham manufacturer, an ex-science lecturer, several artisans, a farmer, two or three Quakers, and a few women. They had no rules of any kind, and everyone did as he or she liked. To become a colonist no application was needed; all that anyone had to do was to take a seat at the common table. All things were supposed to be held in common (although how this was possible without some form of rules and authority passes comprehension), and all the money they possessed was kept in a small open box upon the mantel shelf. The result was that, whilst some of the colonists worked hard, the majority sponged idly upon their labours. Gradually the indolence and licence of some of the members became more pronounced, until in disgust, Bracher, the founder, his wife, and others, left the colony. No idea can be given of the indolence and sheer animalism of this Whiteway Anarchia, with its lawless licence and its cadging. So disgusted were some of the colonists that they renounced Anarchy straightway, and on an adjoining farm started a co-operative colony based on laws and authority, the chief law being “He that will not work, neither shall he eat.”

Whilst the foregoing, avowedly Anarchist in character, all ended in failure, there are several instances on record of successful but unconscious Anarchism. A work published in Paris, in 1888, on “La Russie Sectaire,” by M. Taskin, gives some curious information concerning the various sects, religious and political, to be found throughout the Colossus of the North. One of the most numerous and widespread is that known as the Doukoborys, presumably the sect which has now taken up its abode in Canada in order to avoid Russian compulsory military service, and which is more often called the Dukobortsi, whose fundamental dogma is the negation of all religious ceremony and pomp, and the adoration of God “by the spirit and truth of the Creator, which everybody bears in his own heart.” Man, they say, carries God in himself when he seeks to attain the ideal of goodness, simplicity, and honesty. Wealth and poverty are to them an anomaly and an injustice, and so there are no servants and masters, no chiefs or subjects. Equality is carried to the extent of denying the obedience of children to their parents, and consequently parental authority is nil. Women enjoy the same rights as men. All constraint is prohibited and free-love the order of the day. No authority, whether in temporal or spiritual affairs, is recognised. Every person obeys only his own conscience. All the affairs of the community are arranged in a general assembly. Strange to say, this singular society, although based on the negation of all authority, according to M. Taskin, works relatively well. The moral level of it is said to be superior to that of the neighbouring orthodox population. The members are thriving, more active, and healthier. Crime is unknown among them; quarrels are rare, and always end in reconciliation. Mutual assistance is universally practised. In short, the Doukobory appear to be the very ideal of society dreamt of by Louise Michel and her acolytes. The Anarchist points to this sect as an example of the results which must follow from the adoption of Anarchist principles, but where would the society have been but for the binding influence of religion?⁠[1]

The Anarchist journal Freedom has given what it describes as a “capital example of practical Anarchy.” It appears that in January, 1857, Mr. A. R. Wallace, travelling among the islands of the Malay Archipelago, went in a native trading boat to the Aru Islands, and stayed at Dobbo, the settlement inhabited by the traders of various nationalities who visit this island every year and live there from four to six months. Quoting Mr. Wallace (The Malay Archipelago), Freedom continues: “I dare say there are now 500 people in Dobbo of various races, all met in this remote corner of the East, as they express it, ‘to look for their fortune,’ to get money any way they can. They are most of them people who have the very worst reputation for honesty, as well as every other form of morality—Chinese, Bugis, Ceramese, and half-caste Javanese, with a sprinkling of half-wild Papuans from Timor, Babber, and other islands—yet all goes on as yet very quietly. This motley, ignorant, blood-thirsty, thievish population live here without the shadow of a Government, with no police, no courts, and no lawyers; yet they do not cut each other’s throats; do not fall into the disorder such a state of things might be supposed to lead to. It is very extraordinary!”

“The Dobbo people,” Mr. Wallace continues, “are all traders, and all know that peace and order are essential to successful trade, and thus a public opinion is created which puts down all lawlessness. Often in former years, when strolling along the Campong Glam, in Singapore, I have thought how wild and ferocious the Bugis sailors looked, and how little I should like to trust myself among them. But now I find them to be very decent, well-behaved fellows; I walk daily unarmed in the jungle, where I meet them continually; I sleep in a palm-leaf hut, which anyone may enter, with as little fear and as little danger of thieves or murder as if I were under the protection of the Metropolitan police.”

An occasional Dutch commissioner, from Molucca, turns up once in the season sometimes to hear complaints, settle disputes, and now and again to carry off some heinous offender. Twice Mr. Wallace had an opportunity of seeing the little community under circumstances of difficulty. During his first visit a man was caught trying to steal a piece of iron from a neighbour, in whose wall he had made a hole for the purpose. That evening most of the traders met to discuss the affair, and decided to give the would be robber twenty lashes then and there. “They were given with a small rattan, in the middle of the street—not very severely, as the executioner appeared to sympathise a little with the culprit. The disgrace seemed to be thought as much of as the pain; for though any amount of clever cheating is thought rather meritorious than otherwise, open robbery and housebreaking meet with universal reprobation.” After a visit to the natives in the interior, Mr. Wallace returned to Dobbo, and one evening saw a dispute going on over a game of football. There was a great row, he says, and he feared the disputants would betake themselves to their knives, not only the two who began, but a dozen or twenty of their backers on each side. But no. “After a large amount of talk, it passed off quietly, and we heard nothing about it afterwards.” In fact, during the whole seven months that Mr. Wallace was at or near Dobbo there does not appear to have been any serious disturbance or any act of violence. “Where this is possible amongst a casual population of rough and ready traders, one of whose principal amusements is cock-fighting, it should not be impracticable,” comments Freedom, “in a settled industrial community, where the motives for peaceful mutual understanding would be far stronger than amongst the semi-socialised self-seekers of Dobbo.”

It is interesting to know that the British Empire includes at least two successful but unconscious Anarchist communities. The one is at the island of St. Kilda, in the remote Hebrides, where government and police are conspicuous only by their absence; the other is at Tristan d’Acunha and Gough Island, the principal of a group of islands, which, according to the “Colonial Office List,” are situate in lat. 37° 6′ S. and long. 12° 2′ W. It was taken possession of by a military force during the residence of Napoleon at St. Helena. Upon his death, the garrison was withdrawn, with the exception of three men, who, with certain shipwrecked sailors, became the founders of the present settlement. For a long time only one of the settlers had a wife, but subsequently the others contracted with a sea captain to bring them wives from St. Helena. The population has since increased to about a hundred, and remains practically stationary, as the younger and more ambitious settlers migrate in batches to the Cape. The inhabitants practically enjoy the possessions in common, and there is no strong drink on the island, and no crime. It was at one time proposed to give them laws and a regular Government, but this was found unnecessary, for the above reasons, and they remain under the moral rule of the oldest inhabitant, Governor Green, successor to Governor Glass, corporal in the Royal Artillery, and founder of the settlement. The inhabitants are spoken of as highly religious, and this must be the explanation of their success.