Intellectual Cousins: humanism and anarchism in the UK

Jack Pigram is a recent postgraduate in the History of Political Thought, with a particular interest in the Scottish Enlightenment and German philosophy from Hegel to Nietzsche.

When describing the formation of his political beliefs, the late Benjamin Zephaniah, acclaimed poet, professor, and playwright, stated that ‘I realised that true Anarchy is my nature. It is our nature.’ For a soft spoken poet to ascribe to our condition something so stereotypically violent and chaotic might seem like a confusing claim, and Zephaniah often had to clarify this position in his public discussions. What motivated Zephaniah was a commitment to both ‘philosophical anarchism’ and localised examples of anarchist communities in practice. He believed that anarchism ought not to be obfuscated by images of chaos and disorder, but understood as a philosophy and political movement sceptical of hierarchical and coercive power structures—seeking instead to democratise interpersonal relations in accordance with an egalitarian, mutualistic understanding of human nature. 

When initially compared with humanism, anarchism embodies a dramatically different presentation, with substantively different means and commitments, seeking direct political action—at times violent and revolutionary—to achieve a radical emancipation from all forms of illegitimate authority. While class struggle has been imperative to all anarchist movements, the critique of religion was an indispensable part of anarchism’s philosophical ambition to strip away the authority of oppressive institutions. This radical scepticism of institutional and epistemological authorities, as well as a broad commitment to egalitarian human cooperation is what, I believe, has historically united anarchism with humanism. It is these key philosophical features, as well as the shared historical context from which they emerged, that form the focus of this article.

Originating from the Greek ‘an-’(prefix for without) and ‘archós’ (‘leader’ or ‘chief’), early usage of ‘anarchism’ in English was as an accusatory charge against individuals and movements that defied ruling interests. This early pejorative usage of anarchism, as well as burgeoning anarchistic murmurs, can be found in the radical movements that surrounded the English Civil War. Just as the institution of monarchy was challenged, and temporarily violently usurped, broader ideas concerning hierarchy, liberty, and secularity began to sustain scrutiny during this Early Modern period. Most notably the Levellers, a political group advocating for individual rights, popular sovereignty, and social and economic justice during this tumultuous period in English history, were described by Oliver Cromwell as pursuing political ambitions that would ‘end in anarchy’.

Much like the development of humanistic ideas throughout history, long before any established humanist organisation, anarchistic ideas have similarly been generated throughout British history, prompted in response to religious and class divisions of their times. Anarchism being the pejorative accusation that it was additionally serves to show the subversive weight of these challenges to authoritative institutions. This lay the foundation for anarchism’s formal emergence as a distinct political movement in the 19th century, as well as for a more concrete relationship with the parallel emergence of modern humanist, ethical, and freethinking organisations in modern Britain.

Further into the 20th century, where anarchism found itself concerned with anti-war, trade unionist, and ecological questions, one can look to individuals such as Nicolas Walter, who was deeply involved in both humanism and anarchism throughout his life. Making contributions to anarchist organisations such as Freedom Press and humanist institutions such as South Place Ethical Society and the National Secular Society, Walter sought to bring anarchism and humanism together, suggesting that anarchism is most effective when aligned with broader progressive ‘anticlerical and humanist movements’. One can also look to the Conway Hall archive itself, which holds a repository of over two hundred anarchist-related documents, as a continuation of the long-standing connections with rationalist, secularist, and humanist movements in the UK.

Perhaps due to this common chronological and geographical seedbed, anarchism and humanism have faced similar challenges in recent scholarship, including charges of anthropocentrism and eurocentrism: anarchism for its occasional tendency towards egoism, and the historical exclusion of black radical thought, and humanism for its namesake centring of the human experience, and for a supposed understanding of ‘humanity’ that reinforces European neo-colonial interests.

But of course, humanism and anarchism also have key differences. Beyond the obvious ones in means and aims—with humanism championing secularist ideals and a positive non-religious worldview, and anarchism seeking a broader, sometimes violent, revolution in the legitimacy of authority and economic relations—anarchists have sometimes derided humanism as a faux-radical movement that obstructs class struggle and perpetuates a human rights based liberalism.