Thomas More’s Utopia

“For everywhere one may hear of ravenous dogs and wolves, and cruel man eaters; but it is not so easy to find states that are well and wisely governed,” says the Portugese sailor.

Raphael tells of a distant kingdom where he lived five years, an island carved from the continent by its Greek conquerors, fortified nearly two millennia now by the sea, with Amaurot the chief of its 54 cities at the peninsula’s centre. In this land all is ordered by the Law.

Citizens elect their representatives, the Sygrophants, who in turn select the Prince. Although the monarch reigns for life, he wears no special costume, distinguishing himself only by carrying a sheath of corn.

Shipwrecked Romans left some useful knowledge of technology on the island, however, agriculture remains the primary concern. Even those from the city are sent to the fields to learn the labour it takes to feed them, where they labour six hours a day clad in white linen. The zealous modern who cannot help judging the past by the values of the present may see echoes of Mao Zedong and the cultural revolution here. The idle nobility and those like gold- smiths and bankers whose professions are of no real service to society – do not exist, and other forms of society where they do are “a conspiracy of the rich.” While the granaries of the wealthy are full, the poor must not go hungry, goes the Utopian creed.

Money is unknown on the island. They value that which is useful above what is rare of beautiful, so that iron is a precious commodity while gold and silver are used to make chamber pots and chains for the slaves (don’t get squeamish remember we are reading a work of the 16th century).

Slaves are those who have broken the Law, and those who reoffend may be publicly executed as a warning to others. Strange that the Portuguese does not object to this as he earlier argued capital punishment gives preference to human over divine law and is therefore unjust (142).

Hierarchy persists in Utopia, then, despite the absence of property. Women serve their husbands, the young serve the old, and slaves serve everybody.

Since displays of wealth are scorned, clothing and houses are identical. Nevertheless, competition is not completely eradicated, as citizens like to outdo each other with lavish gardens full of vines, fruits, herbs, and flowers (166).

War, the extreme expression of this atavistic instinct, is inglorious to the Utopians, but when threatened they do not hesitate to hire mercenaries from among the ferocious warriors of the neighbouring Zapolets. Since the commonwealth produces all that it needs and has no commerce with other kingdoms it has no expansionist ambitions, and resorts to armed combat only in self defense.

Religious conflict is unheard of as tolerance of all faiths is an ancient law in Utopia. The only banned cult is that which believes souls die with their bodies and the world is governed by chance (intolerable heresy to 16th century sensibilities even in fantasy land). All legal religious sects worship the Mithras, the divine essence. They are on such good terms that they perform their devotions at the same temple, under the watchful gaze of priests with rather ridiculous sounding many-coloured feather vestiments.

The Utopians pray – and here their desire coincides with the didactic purpose of the Portuguese sailor – that the Supreme Being will bring the rest of the world to their mode of government and religion (227).

For Raphael, Utopia is the only commonwealth in the world that deserves the name. More, on the other hand, keeps a certain skeptical distance, confiding that he finds much of what has been described absurd, perhaps even impossible. “There are many things in the commonwealth of Utopia that I rather wish, than hope to see followed in our governments,” (232). This tension between wishing and hoping, between ou-topos “no place” and eu-topos “good place,” between the ideal and its realisation, has characterised all subsequent Utopian thought.