nd some enthusiast who will with
pleasure relieve them of the burden of humanity to which they have
certainly given life, but which concerns them no more from the moment
when the umbilical cord between mother and child is severed. Of course
there can be no talk of education under Anarchy, because education and
discipline presuppose authority; and therefore education will be a
matter of "individual initiative." On the other hand, education will
flourish luxuriantly because every one will perceive its value; and so
on.

The internal contradiction of Anarchism is nowhere so clearly seen as
when it is a question of children, who form the most important group
of "the weak." We have already touched upon this in connection with
Stirner's union of egoists. But the more one attempts to understand
this state of society in detail, the more violent becomes the
contradiction between its supposed purpose and its actual
consequences. For what purpose are we to overthrow the present order
of society, and make any other form of society resting upon authority
impossible? Is it in order to make the oppression of the weak by the
strong, of minorities by majorities, of one man by another,
impossible; to give each individual his full "integral" freedom? And
what, as a matter of fact, would be the consequences of Anarchy?
Imagine wanton, idle mothers, without conscience and seeking only
enjoyment--and Grave admits that such exist to-day, and that in a
future society they cannot be compelled to support their
children,--imagine that such persons are set free from the duty of
caring for their own offspring, of suckling and attending to them, and
that it is to be left to mere chance and the "enthusiasm" of others,
whether a child gets milk, or even is fed and cared for. How many
children would perish? How many "weaker ones" would fall victims to
the brutality of the stronger in the valuation of their individuality?
We cannot be deceived with the "innate harmony or solidarity, justice
or love of mankind," or whatever other name may be given to this
figment of the imagination; still less with the Land of Indolence,
overflowing with plenty, promised by Kropotkin and his followers. Both
of these suppositions must first of all be proved actually to exist;
at present they are only maintained obstinately because, as a matter
of fact, they cannot be proved.

Nature and life speak another language, perhaps more sorrowful and
more convincing. The appeal