well be a savage: better, in fact, for a savage knows nothing of what
he is deprived. What we call civilization - the accumulation of
knowledge which has come down to us from our forefathers - is the
fruit of thousands of years of human thought and toil. It is not the
result of the labour of the ancestors of any separate class of people
who exist today, and therefore it is by right the common heritage of
all. Every little child that is born into the world, no matter
whether he is clever or full, whether he is physically perfect or
lame, or blind; no matter how much he may excel or fall short of his
fellows in other respects, in one thing at least he is their equal -
he is one of the heirs of all the ages that have gone before.'

Some of them began to wonder whether Owen was not sane after all. He
certainly must be a clever sort of chap to be able to talk like this.
It sounded almost like something out of a book, and most of them could
not understand one half of it.

`Why is it,' continued Owen, `that we are not only deprived of our
inheritance - we are not only deprived of nearly all the benefits of
civilization, but we and our children and also often unable to obtain
even the bare necessaries of existence?'

No one answered.

`All these things,' Owen proceeded, `are produced by those who work.
We do our full share of the work, therefore we should have a full
share of the things that are made by work.'

The others continued silent. Harlow thought of the over-population
theory, but decided not to mention it. Crass, who could not have