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The Conquest of Bread

Peter Kropotkin

Language:
English
Status:
Complete work
Authorship:
Written by the author
Condition of the text:
No scanning noise detected (automatic measure over the whole text, not checked by hand)
Extent:
~78,500 words · 373 passages
Cite this work
  • APAPeter Kropotkin. (n.d.). The Conquest of Bread. Digital reproduction: SigPhi. https://sigphiai.com/en/works/peter-kropotkin/the-conquest-of-bread
  • MLAPeter Kropotkin. The Conquest of Bread. Digital reproduction, SigPhi, https://sigphiai.com/en/works/peter-kropotkin/the-conquest-of-bread.
  • ChicagoPeter Kropotkin. The Conquest of Bread. Digital reproduction, SigPhi. https://sigphiai.com/en/works/peter-kropotkin/the-conquest-of-bread.

Reference to the edition that SigPhi reproduces: SigPhi is its digital reproduction, not its publisher. The edition's year is not in the metadata (hence "n.d."), and the translator appears only when recorded.

What it is about

The Conquest of Bread (1892): how people eat the day after the revolution.

Context and history

Kropotkin does not argue principles: he calculates. How much bread is needed, how many houses, how many hours of work. The thesis is that well-being for all is already possible with existing technique, and that the problem is distribution. It is the most practical anarchist book ever written.

Editorial context, not a citable source: unlike the passages of the work itself, these statements cannot be checked against the corpus.

How it begins
Take, indeed, a civilized country. The forests which once covered it have been cleared, the marshes drained, the climate improved. It has been made habitable. The soil, which bore formerly only a coarse vegetation, is covered to-day with rich harvests. The rock-walls in the valleys are laid out in terraces and covered with vines. The wild plants, which yielded nought but acrid berries, or uneatable roots, have been transformed by generations of culture into succulent vegetables or trees covered with delicious fruits. Thousands of highways and railroads furrow the earth, and pierce the mountains. The shriek of the engine is heard in the wild gorges of the Alps, the Caucasus, and the Himalayas. The rivers have been made navigable; the coasts, carefully surveyed, are easy of access; artificial harbours, laboriously dug out and protected against the fury of the sea, afford shelter to the ships. Deep shafts have been sunk in the rocks; labyrinths of underground galleries have been dug out where coal may be raised or minerals extracted. At the crossings of the highways great cities have sprung up, and within their borders all the treasures of industry, science, and art have been accumulated. Whole generations, that lived and died in misery, oppressed and ill-treated by their masters, and worn out by toil, have handed on this immense inheritance to our century. For thousands of years millions of men have laboured to clear the forests, to drain the marshes, and to open up highways by land and water. Every rood of soil we cultivate in Europe has been watered by the sweat of several races of men. Every acre has its story of enforced labour, of intolerable toil, of the people's sufferings. Every mile of railway, every yard of tunnel, has received its share of human blood. The shafts of the mine still bear on their rocky walls the marks made by the pick of the workman who toiled to excavate them.…

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