I, Pencil
My Family Tree as told to Leonard E. Read
I am a lead pencil—the ordinary wooden pencil familiar to all boys and girls and adults who can read and write.
Writing is both my vocation and my avocation; that’s all I do.
You may wonder why I should write a genealogy. Well, to begin with, my story is interesting. And, next, I am a mystery—more so than a tree or a sunset or even a flash of lightning. But, sadly, I am taken for granted by those who use me, as if I were a mere incident and without background. This supercilious attitude relegates me to the level of the commonplace. This is a species of the grievous error in which mankind cannot too long persist without peril. For, the wise G. K. Chesterton observed, “We are perishing for want of wonder, not for want of wonders.”
I, Pencil, simple though I appear to be, merit your wonder and awe, a claim I shall attempt to prove. In fact, if you can understand me—no, that’s too much to ask of anyone—if you can become aware of the miraculousness which I symbolize, you can help save the freedom mankind is so unhappily losing. I have a profound lesson to teach. And I can teach this lesson better than can an automobile or an airplane or a mechanical dishwasher because—well, because I am seemingly so simple.
Simple? Yet,
not a single person on the face of this earth knows how to make me. This sounds fantastic, doesn’t it? Especially when it is realized that there are about one and one-half billion of my kind produced in the U.S.A. each year.
Pick me up and look me over. What do you see? Not much meets the eye—there’s some wood, lacquer, the printed labeling, graphite lead, a bit of metal, and an eraser.
Innumerable Antecedents
Just as you cannot trace your family tree back very far, so is it impossible for me to name and explain all my antecedents. But I would like to suggest enough of them to impress upon you the richness and complexity of my background.
My family tree begins with what in fact is a tree, a cedar of straight grain that grows in Northern California and Oregon. Now contemplate all the saws and trucks and rope and the countless other gear used in harvesting and carting the cedar logs to the railroad siding. Think of all the persons and the numberless skills that went into their fabrication: the mining of ore, the making of steel and its refinement into saws, axes, motors; the growing of hemp and bringing it through all the stages to heavy and strong rope; the logging camps with their beds and mess halls, the cookery and the raising of all the foods. Why, untold thousands of persons had a hand in every cup of coffee the loggers drink!
The logs are shipped to a mill in San Leandro, California. Can you imagine the individuals who make flat cars and rails and railroad engines and who construct and install the communication systems incidental thereto? These legions are among my antecedents.
Consider the millwork in San Leandro. The cedar logs are cut into small, pencil-length slats less than one-fourth of an inch in thickness. These are kiln dried and then tinted for the same reason women put rouge on their faces. People prefer that I look pretty, not a pallid white. The slats are waxed and kiln dried again. How many skills went into the making of the tint and the kilns, into supplying the heat, the light and power, the belts, motors, and all the other things a mill requires? Sweepers in the mill among my ancestors? Yes, and included are the men who poured the concrete for the dam of a Pacific Gas & Electric Company hydroplant which supplies the mill’s power!
Don’t overlook the ancestors present and distant who have a hand in transporting sixty carloads of slats across the nation.
Once in the pencil factory—$4,000,000 in machinery and building, all capital accumulated by thrifty and saving parents of mine—each slat is given eight grooves by a complex machine, after which another machine lays leads in every other slat, applies glue, and places another slat atop—a lead sandwich, so to speak. Seven brothers and I are mechanically carved from this “wood-clinched” sandwich.
My “lead” itself—it contains no lead at all—is complex. The graphite is mined in Ceylon. Consider these miners and those who make their many tools and the makers of the paper sacks in which the graphite is shipped and those who make the string that ties the sacks and those who put them aboard ships and those who make the ships. Even the lighthouse keepers along the way assisted in my birth—and the harbor pilots.
The graphite is mixed with clay from Mississippi in which ammonium hydroxide is used in the refining process. Then wetting agents are added such as sulfonated tallow—animal fats chemically reacted with sulfuric acid. After passing through numerous machines, the mixture finally appears as endless extrusions—as from a sausage grinder-cut to size, dried, and baked for several hours at 1,850 degrees Fahrenheit. To increase their strength and smoothness the leads are then treated with a hot mixture which includes candelilla wax from Mexico, paraffin wax, and hydrogenated natural fats.
My cedar receives six coats of lacquer. Do you know all the ingredients of lacquer? Who would think that the growers of castor beans and the refiners of castor oil are a part of it? They are. Why, even the processes by which the lacquer is made a beautiful yellow involve the skills of more persons than one can enumerate!
Observe the labeling. That’s a film formed by applying heat to carbon black mixed with resins. How do you make resins and what, pray, is carbon black?
My bit of metal—the ferrule—is brass. Think of all the persons who mine zinc and copper and those who have the skills to make shiny sheet brass from these products of nature. Those black rings on my ferrule are black nickel. What is black nickel and how is it applied? The complete story of why the center of my ferrule has no black nickel on it would take pages to explain.
Then there’s my crowning glory, inelegantly referred to in the trade as “the plug,” the part man uses to erase the errors he makes with me. An ingredient called “factice” is what does the erasing. It is a rubber-like product made by reacting rape-seed oil from the Dutch East Indies with sulfur chloride. Rubber, contrary to the common notion, is only for binding purposes. Then, too, there are numerous vulcanizing and accelerating agents. The pumice comes from Italy; and the pigment which gives “the plug” its color is cadmium sulfide.
No One Knows
Does anyone wish to challenge my earlier assertion that no single person on the face of this earth knows how to make me?
Actually, millions of human beings have had a hand in my creation, no one of whom even knows more than a very few of the others. Now, you may say that I go too far in relating the picker of a coffee berry in far off Brazil and food growers elsewhere to my creation; that this is an extreme position. I shall stand by my claim. There isn’t a single person in all these millions, including the president of the pencil company, who contributes more than a tiny, infinitesimal bit of know-how. From the standpoint of know-how the only difference between the miner of graphite in Ceylon and the logger in Oregon is in the
type of know-how. Neither the miner nor the logger can be dispensed with, any more than can the chemist at the factory or the worker in the oil field—paraffin being a by-product of petroleum.
Here is an astounding fact: Neither the worker in the oil field nor the chemist nor the digger of graphite or clay nor any who mans or makes the ships or trains or trucks nor the one who runs the machine that does the knurling on my bit of metal nor the president of the company performs his singular task because he wants me. Each one wants me less, perhaps, than does a child in the first grade. Indeed, there are some among this vast multitude who never saw a pencil nor would they know how to use one. Their motivation is other than me. Perhaps it is something like this: Each of these millions sees that he can thus exchange his tiny know-how for the goods and services he needs or wants. I may or may not be among these items.
No Master Mind
There is a fact still more astounding: the absence of a master mind, of anyone dictating or forcibly directing these countless actions which bring me into being. No trace of such a person can be found. Instead, we find the Invisible Hand at work. This is the mystery to which I earlier referred.
It has been said that “only God can make a tree.” Why do we agree with this? Isn’t it because we realize that we ourselves could not make one? Indeed, can we even describe a tree? We cannot, except in superficial terms. We can say, for instance, that a certain molecular configuration manifests itself as a tree. But what mind is there among men that could even record, let alone direct, the constant changes in molecules that transpire in the life span of a tree? Such a feat is utterly unthinkable!
I, Pencil, am a complex combination of miracles: a tree, zinc, copper, graphite, and so on. But to these miracles which manifest themselves in Nature an even more extraordinary miracle has been added: the configuration of creative human energies—millions of tiny know-hows configurating naturally and spontaneously in response to human necessity and desire and
in the absence of any human master-minding! Since only God can make a tree, I insist that only God could make me. Man can no more direct these millions of know-hows to bring me into being than he can put molecules together to create a tree.
The above is what I meant when writing, “If you can become aware of the miraculousness which I symbolize, you can help save the freedom mankind is so unhappily losing.” For, if one is aware that these know-hows will naturally, yes, automatically, arrange themselves into creative and productive patterns in response to human necessity and demand—that is, in the absence of governmental or any other coercive masterminding—then one will possess an absolutely essential ingredient for freedom:
a faith in free people. Freedom is impossible without this faith.
Once government has had a monopoly of a creative activity such, for instance, as the delivery of the mails, most individuals will believe that the mails could not be efficiently delivered by men acting freely. And here is the reason: Each one acknowledges that he himself doesn’t know how to do all the things incident to mail delivery. He also recognizes that no other individual could do it. These assumptions are correct. No individual possesses enough know-how to perform a nation’s mail delivery any more than any individual possesses enough know-how to make a pencil. Now, in the absence of faith in free people—in the unawareness that millions of tiny know-hows would naturally and miraculously form and cooperate to satisfy this necessity—the individual cannot help but reach the erroneous conclusion that mail can be delivered only by governmental “master-minding.”
Testimony Galore
If I, Pencil, were the only item that could offer testimony on what men and women can accomplish when free to try, then those with little faith would have a fair case. However, there is testimony galore; it’s all about us and on every hand. Mail delivery is exceedingly simple when compared, for instance, to the making of an automobile or a calculating machine or a grain combine or a milling machine or to tens of thousands of other things. Delivery? Why, in this area where men have been left free to try, they deliver the human voice around the world in less than one second; they deliver an event visually and in motion to any person’s home when it is happening; they deliver 150 passengers from Seattle to Baltimore in less than four hours; they deliver gas from Texas to one’s range or furnace in New York at unbelievably low rates and without subsidy; they deliver each four pounds of oil from the Persian Gulf to our Eastern Seaboard—halfway around the world—for less money than the government charges for delivering a one-ounce letter across the street!
The lesson I have to teach is this:
Leave all creative energies uninhibited. Merely organize society to act in harmony with this lesson. Let society’s legal apparatus remove all obstacles the best it can. Permit these creative know-hows freely to flow. Have faith that free men and women will respond to the Invisible Hand. This faith will be confirmed. I, Pencil, seemingly simple though I am, offer the miracle of my creation as testimony that this is a practical faith, as practical as the sun, the rain, a cedar tree, the good earth.
米尔顿 弗里德曼（1976年诺贝尔经济学奖获得者）的导语：
伦纳德 里德引人入胜的《铅笔的故事》，已经成为一篇经典之作，它也确实是名副其实的经典。据我所知，再也没有其他的文献像这篇文章这样简明扼要，令人信服地、有力地阐明了亚当 斯密“看不见的手”——在没有强制情况下合作的可能性——的含义，也阐明了弗里德里希 哈耶克强调分立的知识和价格体系在传播某些信息方面的重要性的含义，而这些信息“将使个人毋须他人告诉他们做这做哪而自行决定做可欲的事情”。
我们曾经在我的电视专题节目《自由选择》中引用过伦纳德的故事，也曾经引用他的同名著作来阐明“市场的力量”（见电视专题节目的第一集和书的第一章，该章题目即《市场的市场》），我们概述了这个故事后接着说：
“成千上万的人卷入了生产铅笔的过程中，没有一个是因为自己想要一支铅笔而去干自己的活儿的，他们中有些人从来没有见过铅笔，也从来不管铅笔是干什么用的。每个人都把自己的工作仅仅看作是获取自己所需要的商品和服务的一种办法，而我们生产这些商品和服务，则是为了获得我们要用的铅笔。每次我们到商店购买一支铅笔，我们都是用我们的一丁点劳务，来换取投入到铅笔生产过程中的成千上万人中的每个人提供的极小量的一些劳务。
“更令人叹为观止的是，铅笔在源源不断地生产出来。没有一个人坐在一个中央办公机构对这成千上万的人发布命令。也没有军警来执行这些无人发布的命令。这些人生活在不同的地方，讲着不同的语言，信奉着不同的宗教，甚至可能彼此憎恶，——然而，所有这些差异，并没有妨碍他们合作生产一支铅笔。这是如何发生的？亚当 斯密在两百年前就给了我们答案。”
《铅笔的故事》是典型的伦纳德 里德式的作品：富有想象力，朴素而意味深长，洋溢着对自由的热爱，这一切，贯穿在伦纳德所写的一切著作或所做的一切活动中。跟他的其它著作一样，他并没有试图告诉人们应该做什么，或如何管理自己。他只是试图增进人们对他们自己及其生活于其中的制度的理解。
这就是他的基本信条，是他在长期服务于公众——不是政府公务员性质的公共服务——的岁月中一以贯之坚持的信条。不管遭遇何种压力，他都坚持自己的信念，而绝不在原则问题上妥协。正是这一点，使他在早年能够引人瞩目地坚守人的自由需要私有产权、自由竞争和严格限制政府这样的基本理念，而后则使这种理念广为传播。
正文：
我是一支铅笔——最普通的木杆铅笔，只要是能读会写的男女老少都最再熟悉不过的铅笔。
写字是我的职责，也是我的业余爱好；那是我的全部工作所在。
你肯定有点奇怪，我干嘛要搞一个什么家谱。好吧，我来解释一下，嗯，首先，因为我的故事很有趣。其次，我是一件神秘的东西——要比树木、比日落、甚至比闪电要神秘多了。不过，很不幸，那些用我的人把我看得平淡无奇，就好象我完全是自己钻出来的，一点背景都不需要。这种目空一切的心态把我归入大路货的档次。这实在是一个令人伤痛的错误，而如果人们一直犯这种错误，难免会出乱子。因为，博学的G.K.Chesterton曾经说过：“我们会因为缺乏好奇而毁灭，而不会因为期望奇迹而毁灭。”
我，铅笔，尽管看起来平平凡凡，但是也值得你探索和敬畏，我会证明给你看的。事实上，如果你能理解我的心——唉，这对不管什么人来说，恐怕都是过高的要求——如果你能认识到我所蕴涵的那些不可思议之处，你就会愿意努力维护人们正在不幸地丧失的自由。我可以教给你们一些深刻的教训。而且我教给你的教训，要比汽车、飞机或者是洗碗机还要深刻——这恰恰是因为，我看起来是这么地简单。
简单？在这个地球上，没有一个人能了解我是如何被制造出来的。这听起来实在有点荒唐，是不是？尤其是当我们得知，在美国，每年要生产15亿支我，就更荒唐了。
把我拿起来仔细端详一下，你看到了什么？没有多少东西——也就是些木头，漆，印制的标签，石墨，一丁点金属，还有一块橡皮。
数不清的前身
你不能把你的家族追溯到很遥远的时代，同样，我也不大可能叫得出我的所有前身的名字，并对其作出解释。不过，我想尽可能地列出来，让你对我的背景的丰富性和复杂性好有个认识。
我的家谱得从一棵树算起，一棵生长在加利福尼亚北部和俄勒冈州的挺拔的雪松。现在，你可以想象一下，锯子、卡车、绳子，以及无数用于砍伐和把雪松圆木搬运到铁道旁的各种设备。再想想制造看法和运输工具的形形色色的人和数不胜数的技能：开采矿石，冶炼钢铁，再将其加工成锯子，轴，发动机；要种植大麻，经过复杂的工序将其加工成粗壮的绳子；伐木场要有床铺，有帐篷，要做饭，要消耗各种食物。哎呀，忘了说了，在伐木工喝的每杯咖啡背后，也有成千上万的人的劳作！
圆木被装船运输到加利福尼亚的圣莱安德罗。你能想象得出制造平板大卡车、铁轨、火车头的那些人，和那些修筑和安装送我到那里的整个交通体系的人们吗？这无数的人，也都是我的前身。
想想圣莱安德罗的木材加工厂。雪松圆木被切割成铅笔那么长的薄板条，只有1/4英寸厚。要在烘干炉内将这些板条烘干，然而，涂上颜色，就像妇女们往脸上涂脂抹粉一个道理。人们喜欢我看起来漂漂亮亮的，不喜欢我煞白的模样。板条上蜡，然后再烘干。制造颜料，烘干需要的热量，照明，电力，传动带，电动机，一家工厂所需要的一切设备，等等，所有这一切需要多少技能?工厂里的清洁工也算我的前身吗？不错，还应该包括那些向太平洋天然气与电力公司的电站大坝浇铸水泥的人！因为，正是这些发电站向工厂供应了电力。
不要忘了那些或早或晚在薄板条穿州越县的运输过程中——每车装60吨——出了一份力的人们。
现在，到了铅笔制造厂——这样的工厂在机械设备和厂房建筑上要投入400万美元，这一切资本，都是我的生身父母们通过省吃俭用才积累下来的。一台很复杂的机器在每根板条上开出八条细槽，之后，再由一台机器在另外的板条上铺设笔芯，用胶水粘住，然后，放到其他的板条上面——可以说，做成了一块笔芯三明治。再由机器切割这“牢牢粘在一起的木头”三明治，我跟七位兄弟就诞生了。
我的“铅笔芯”本身——它其实根本就不含铅——就相当复杂。石墨开采自锡兰。想想那些矿工和制造他们所用的工具的人，以及那些制作用轮船运输石墨的纸袋子的工人，还有那些装船的人，还有那些造船的人。甚至，守护沿途灯塔的人也为我的诞生出了一把力——还有港口的领航员们。
石墨要与产自密西西比河床的粘土混合，在精炼过程中，还要用到氢氧化铵。然后，要添加增湿剂，比如经过磺酸盐处理的油脂——这是用动物脂肪与硫磺酸进行化学反应制造出
来的。经过一道又一道机器，这些混合物最后看起来是在源源不断地挤出来——好象是从一台香肠研磨机中挤出来似的——按尺寸切断，晾干，再在华氏1850度的温度下烘烤数个小时。为了提高其强度和顺滑性，还要用一种滚热的混合物处理铅笔芯，其中包括固体石蜡、经过氢化处理的天然脂肪和产自墨西哥的大戟石蜡。
我的雪松木杆上涂了六层漆。你知道油漆的全部成分吗？谁能想到蓖麻子的种植者和蓖麻油的加工者也是我的前身的一个组成部分？他们确实都是。啊，仅仅是把油漆调制成一种美丽的黄颜色的工序，所涉及的各种各样的人们的技巧，就数不胜数了。
再看看标签。那是炭黑跟树脂加热混合而形成的一张薄膜，请问，你知道怎么制造树脂吗，你知道炭黑是什么东西吗？
我身上的那点金属——金属箍——是黄铜的。想想那些开采锌矿石和铜矿石的人们吧，还有那些运用自己的技能，把这些自然的赐予物制作成闪闪发光的薄薄的黄铜片的人们。金属箍上的黑圈是黑镍。黑镍是什么东西，又有什么用途？为什么在我的金属箍的中间部分没有黑镍，光这个问题，就得用上好多页纸才能回答清楚。
然后就是我那至高无上的王冠，在该行业中被人很粗俗地称之“塞子”，就是人们用来擦除用我犯下的错误的那个东西。起擦除作用的那种成分叫做“硫化油胶”。看起来像橡胶一样的东西，是由荷兰东印度群岛出产的菜籽油跟氯化硫进行化学反应制造出来的。与一般人想象的相反，橡胶则仅仅起粘合的作用。在这儿，需要各种各样的硫化剂和催化剂。浮石产自意大利，给“塞子”上色的颜料则是硫化铬。
无人知晓
现在，还有谁对我前面提到的这种说法不服：这个地球上没有一个人完整地知道如何制造？
事实上，有成百万参与了我的诞生过程，他们中没有谁能比别人知道得多一点。你现在会说，我也扯得太远了，竟然把遥远的巴西的咖啡豆采摘工和其它地方的粮食种植者，也跟我的制作过程扯到一起。这也未免太夸张了吧。不过，我仍坚持我的说法。在这成百万人中，每个人，哪怕是铅笔生产公司的总裁，所作出的贡献也只是微不足道的一丁点实际知识（know-how）。从实际知识的角度看，远在锡兰的石墨开采工与俄勒冈的伐木工之间的唯一区别，仅在于实际知识的类型不同。不管是矿工还是伐木工，所作出的贡献都不比工厂中的化工师或油田工人——石蜡是从石油中提炼出来的——更多。
这真是令人惊异的事：油田工人或化工师家，或石墨、粘土开采工，或者是制造轮船、火车、卡车的人，或者是操纵机器生产金属箍上的滚花的工人，或者是铅笔制造公司的总裁，所有这些人，都不是由于本人需要我而干自己的那份工作的。很可能，他们每个人对我的需求都不如一年级小学生更殷切，事实上，在这无数的人中，有的人可能从来就没有见过铅笔，也根本不知道怎样使用铅笔。他们根本就没有想到过我。他们的动机也许是这样的：这成百万人中的每个人都明白，他可以因此而用自己那微不足道的实际知识来换取自己需要或短缺的物品和服务。在这些需要中，可能包括我，也可能不包括我。
无人主宰
还有一件事就更令人称奇了：并没有一个主宰者来发号施令，或强制性地指挥生产我的这无数的生产活动。一点都没有存在这种人物的迹象。相反，我们发现，看不见的手在发挥作用。这就是我在前面提过的神秘的东西。
据说，“只有上帝能造出一棵树”。为什么我们同意这种说法，难道不是因为我们都明白，我们自己不可能造出一棵树来？事实上，我们甚至是否真能把一棵树说清楚？恐怕不能，我们只能描述一些表面现象。比如，我们可以说，某种特定的分子结构表现出来就是一棵树。然而，在人类中是否真的存在一些人，有能力记录，更不要说指挥使一棵树获得生命的分子的持续变化？这样的壮举，可实在是无法想象！
我，铅笔，是种种奇迹的复杂的结合：树，锌，铜，石墨，等等等等。然而，在这些大自然所显现的种种奇迹之外，还有一个更为非凡的奇迹：人的种种创造精神的聚合——成百上千万微不足道的实际知识，自然地、自发地整合到一起，从而对人的需求和欲望作出反应，在这各过程中，竟然没有任何人来主宰！只有上帝才能造树，因此我也坚持，正是上帝，才造出了我。人是不可能指挥这成百上千万的实际知识聚集到一起造出我来的，就像他不可能把分子聚合到一起造出一棵树一样。
这就是当我在前面写下那句话时的用意所在：“如果你能认识到我所蕴涵的那些不可思议之处，你就会愿意努力维护人们正在不幸地丧失的自由”。因为，如果人们认识到，这些实际知识会自然地，是的，会自动地组织成为创造性的、有效率的形态，从而对人的需求和要求作出反应——也就是说，不存在政府或任何强制性控制——那么，人们就掌握了自由的最本质的要素：对自由人的信心。如果没有这种信心，也就不可能有自由。
一旦政府拥有了对创造性活动的垄断权，比如投递邮件，那么，绝大多数人就会相信，邮件本来就不可能由可以自由行动的人来有效地投递。原因如下：每个人都承认，他本人并不知道如何做跟投递邮件有关部门的一切事情，他也承认，任何个人都做不到这一点。这些想法都是正确的。没有任何个人拥有制造一支铅笔的充分的实际知识，同样，也不会有任何个人拥有在全国投递邮件的足够的实际知识。而今，由于对自由人缺乏信心——没有意识到成百上千万人的微不足道的实际知识会为了满足这一需求而自然地、奇迹般地形成并彼此合作——人们就只能得出大错特错的结论：邮件只能由政府“掌管”来投递。
证据多的是
假如我，铅笔，是唯一能够对世界上的男男女女们在可以自由尝试的情况下可以达到何种成就提供证据的东西，那么，某人些信心不足，还情有可原，但是，证据多的是，都近在眼前，唾手可得。与制造一辆汽车或者是一台计算机、一辆联合收割机等等成千上万的东西相比，投递邮件实在是最简单不过的事。都是输送，可是，由于让人们自由地尝试，因此，他们可以在不到一秒的时间内让人的声音传送到世界任何地方；事件还在进行之中，他们就可以把图象传送进每户人家中；他们可以在四个小时内把150名乘客从西雅图送到巴尔的摩；他们把天然气从得克萨斯州送进纽约某户人家炉中，收费之低，令人难以置信，而且还不要任何补贴；他们把四磅石油从波斯湾运到美国东海岸——差不多是绕地球半圈——所花的钱，比政府把一盎司重的信件送到街对面收的费用都要少！
我教给人们的启示就是：让一切创造性的活力不受妨碍地发挥出来。只须按照这一经验组织社会的运转即可。社会的司法机构则应尽最大的努力清除一切妨碍这些活力发挥的障碍。允许这些创造性的实际知识自由地流动。要相信自由的男男女女会对看不见的手作出反应。这种信念会得到证实的。我，看起来再简单不过的一支铅笔，以我奇迹般的诞生过程证明了，这是一种实在可行的信念，就像太阳、雨雪、雪松树等等一切美好的事物一样实在而可信。