Good Governance - Day 1

Good evening everyone. Thank you very much for coming again on such short notice. I feel so happy to see so many familiar faces, and I'm sure you feel happy to see so many familiar faces here. We're developing quite a strong online community. Just to let you know where we are, the last workshop I was teaching was from Joshua to Jesus, mostly looking at Old Testament history. I wasn't really able to finish it; I decided after two weeks that I ought to finish it, but there's still a lot more to do. So next year, I'll do it again or maybe just the extra week that was missing towards the end of that last week. I said I'd start looking at European history, but then I realised that is a huge thing and a lot of work. It's quite easy looking at biblical history because you're really only looking at the history of one nation and just one book to interpret and read. Whereas in looking at the last 2000 years, the way God's providence developed within Christianity and Europe is much more complicated, looking at how all the different nations fit into that, and it requires a lot more work. So I put that on the shelf and thought I'd do something a little bit easier, which is good governance. These are some lectures I prepared, some thoughts I had basically about 25 years ago and 20 years ago. I put together some slides, and then I realised they're 20 years old and need a lot of revision and work. But anyway, I've really enjoyed trying to do this, and when I started, I realised it follows on quite nicely in some ways from the last workshop.

So, good governance. Even though Brigitte was wondering about good governance in our spiritual community, I'm not going to touch on that. I'm just going to look at it in a more general sense, really trying to analyse it from the point of view of the principle and draw out some themes. The problem is, where does one start? Where do you start thinking about politics? Where do I start thinking about philosophy? Where does one start thinking about an ideal society? A couple of weeks ago, we were looking at God's project to create the Kingdom of Heaven on Earth, establishing a good God-centered society within the land of Canaan. That started off with Moses at Mount Sinai, where all the laws were revealed. We looked at Moses and the Israelites and how they moved into Canaan, and we examined all the challenges they faced in trying to establish that kind of society, that kind of world. I'm going to come back to that in a moment, so we looked at that last time.

Another place to start is to look at these things in a much more abstract way. When I went to university, I read philosophy, and I was particularly interested in political philosophy. The first book I read for a year was Plato's Republic, which is all about answering interesting questions through a dialogue between Socrates and other philosophers in Greece. It was all about justice, what it is, what a good society is, what a virtuous society is, and who knows what a good society is. When you look at that, it's all incredibly abstract. Most Greek philosophy is incredibly abstract. Plato came up with this sort of utopia in The Republic, and I looked at it in quite a lot of detail when I did a workshop on joining the dots. I'm not going to repeat that, but then other people came along trying to come up with ideal societies. A very famous one is Thomas More, who wrote a book called Utopia, in which he envisions or visualises what he thinks would be an ideal society. It's similar to Plato's Republic because Plato was the most influential philosopher in European history. As White said, all philosophy has been footnotes to Plato; people have been responding to him. This is Thomas More's vision of a Christian utopian society, but both of them were very totalitarian. Plato's was called the father of totalitarianism, and Thomas More's was like a Christian version of totalitarianism.

In France, you had what's called the utopian socialists, people like Charles Fourier, who were again trying to design utopian towns and villages. He called them phalanxes and decided what kind of buildings everybody should be living in. They should all be symmetrical and organised in a particular kind of way. The land should be divided up in a certain way; it's all very planned. All these ideas led into a vision of a planned society, where some intellectuals sit in a room drawing up a plan for how society should be organised and how the economy should be organised, and then try to make society and the economy conform to that plan. That's what happens when you do things in the abstract; you come up with some blueprint that looks incredibly ideal and attractive, like a great theory, and then you try to put it into practice. That's what's called communism. People often say communism is good in theory but doesn't work in practice. My response has always been that if it was a good theory, it would work in practice. Any theory that doesn't work is not a good theory. That's the point; it's not a good theory because when you try to implement those principles, it doesn't create what you're trying to create and what you expect to create.

Coming out of that, in Britain, you had the rationalist tradition, which was also developed very much in France. A perfect illustration of this approach is Thomas Hobbes, who was probably the most significant English political philosopher of his time. He was an atheist, but that's not really important. He was not only a philosopher but also did mathematics, and he wanted to do his political philosophy following the patterns of geometry because he was particularly interested in geometry. He wanted to do everything very scientifically. This is a description of how he went about it: geometry is widely held to occupy a privileged position in Hobbes' political thought. You might wonder what geometry has to do with political thought. There are two main reasons. First, it serves as an exemplary model for the form which philosophical writing should take. In other words, it's incredibly logical. If you know what the axioms are, you can know everything that flows from those axioms. That's the point of geometry. There are a few basic axioms in geometry, and there are incredibly complex geometrical structures all based upon these very simple axioms. There's always only one answer to the question. It follows that political argumentation, which refers to philosophy for justification, should in some way conform to geometrical style and basic axioms. You end up with a certain kind of inevitable result; it's deterministic. That's the nature of mathematics, especially geometry.

Second, geometry constitutes a vehicle through which an equivalence is established between ontology or bodies in motion and the ordering of the body politic. The ordering of the subjects, the commonwealth, is regarded in terms of geometry, understood as a science of regular movement of bodies in space. Just as when you look at the solar system, you've got the sun and all the planets revolving around it, Hobbes said that's the model for how society should be. You should have the king, and everyone should revolve around the king. Everybody should know their place within society. Just like the planets don't start wandering off and doing other things, everybody should know their proper place in society and their proper role, and they should stick to it. Basically, it should be a very planned and organised society. In this respect, Hobbes' project may be characterised as an attempt to accomplish a political phronomy, which renders politics in terms of a purely geometrical theory of motion or general mechanics, considering motion and bodies as absolute. Again, it's a vision of society as a machine. A planned society is like designing a machine; you design society, and every little cog knows its proper place, and everything runs smoothly. If any of these little cogs steps out, you have to put them back in. When you have a planned society, if a little cog steps out of line because he doesn't like his place in society and starts complaining, you send him off to prison and replace him with a different cog that works and functions the way it's supposed to. These metaphors have extraordinarily important political implications for how a society functions. Hobbes' book is actually called Leviathan, where the idea is that you have an absolute ruler who has absolute authority, and everybody has to absolutely obey this ruler. That was the rationalist tradition, starting with basic geometrical principles and coming up with a vision for a planned society where everybody has to fit into that plan. This is very much the European Enlightenment tradition, which culminated in fascism, communism, and things like that.

Another place you might start is in the Bible. This is another place where people started. But of course, the questions are: how do you understand the Bible? Is it revelation? Is it scripture? Is it just a religious text? If you're not religious, you can just ignore it, or is it just history and political philosophy? We talked about that a lot in the last workshop, explaining a lot of the books in the Bible and their history. Based on that history, the Jewish people were doing political philosophy. Just before I get to that, one thing is that people often make a distinction between the Bible and Greek philosophy, treating them differently. It's really important to understand why people make a distinction between Plato and Aristotle and between the Bible and Isaiah, Jeremiah, and Moses. Why do they make a distinction? Aren't they trying to accomplish and think about the same sort of thing about building a good society? Why do people ignore the biblical tradition entirely when studying political philosophy at university and focus entirely on the Greeks and the Enlightenment philosophers? That's important to understand.

This is a commentary here, an explanation of why this is. Yaron Hazony, a Jewish philosopher, said we don't approach the Greek texts by way of the same interpretive posture we do the Jewish ones because we look through the prism of early Christian doctrine. This is important. The reason for the revelation dichotomy is that it teaches us to see Greek wisdom as derived from reason, whereas what the Jews have to say is revelation. This is a Christian doctrine; there's a distinction between reason and philosophy and revelation. They're two different kinds of literature; they're not the same kind of literature. This is the Christian distinction, and the reason it's important to understand is that this Christian reason-revelation dichotomy or distinction in terms of genre was intended to impart the conviction that works of revelation were, in some important sense, superior to works of reason and therefore worthy of special respect. The church would say, 'Well, Aristotle may say that, but the Bible says this,' because the Bible is a direct revelation from God. It's the word of God; therefore, it has authority over anything that the philosophers might say. Often, in our spiritual community, people sometimes say, 'Oh, well, this is the revelation; therefore, we have to pay extra attention to it.' It's a revelation; therefore, it has more authority than just reason or humanistic thinking. That kind of distinction is there within the whole Christian world, and we've inherited that distinction ourselves.

There's a problem with this. The Enlightenment philosophers of the 18th century retained the dichotomy but reversed it. The old Judeo-Christian synthesis was declared to be a mistake, detrimental, and unneeded. The Enlightenment philosopher says, 'Yes, the Greeks had reason; the Bible's based on revelation. Since we don't believe in God, we can just pay no attention whatsoever to the Bible and focus on the Greek tradition based on reason.' They reversed this, and the Greek tradition then came to be more important and have greater authority than the biblical tradition. This was established first in Germany and spread through most of the European universities in Germany and also in America. As I said, this is a Christian distinction; it's not a Jewish distinction. Jews make no distinction between Isaiah and Aristotle; they say the Bible is...

Greek philosophy, like the works of Socrates and Parmenides, is often regarded as a revelation received from the divine. These philosophers claimed to have met the gods and received teachings directly from them. When I was at university, I inquired about this, and the response was that it was merely a literary device to elevate their ideas. However, this notion is not dissimilar to Isaiah's account of meeting God in the temple and receiving a revelation. Thus, the sources of Greek and biblical philosophy share a commonality: both assert that their teachings are revelations from a higher power.

The Jewish tradition has always viewed its prophets as philosophers. Interestingly, the Greeks referred to the Jews as a nation of philosophers rather than merely a religious group. This perspective is highlighted by Paul Johnson, a Roman Catholic historian, in his book 'The History of the Jews.' He argues that one of the Jews' greatest gifts is their critical faculty. Regardless of their belief in God, Jews have historically been critical thinkers, which has been a source of their rationality. This critical sense was instrumental in their transition to monotheism, as they could not accept the absurdities of polytheism.

The Jewish people engaged in a project to establish a good, just, and God-centered society, a calling they received at Mount Sinai. They were invited to become a holy nation and a kingdom of priests, tasked with building a model society for humanity. However, their history is marked by repeated failures, leading them to seek understanding of what went wrong. The Bible reflects this self-critical nature, presenting the Jews as a sinful people, often too obstinate to accept God's law. Unlike other cultures that tend to gloss over their failures, the Jews documented their mistakes in detail, which serves as a testament to their commitment to learning from their past.

This practice of documenting failures is akin to 'black box thinking,' a concept I recently encountered in a book I picked up. The black box in aviation records all cockpit conversations and measurements, allowing for thorough analysis after an accident. This rigorous examination has significantly reduced the number of aviation accidents over time. In contrast, the healthcare industry often lacks this culture of learning from mistakes, leading to numerous cover-ups when operations go awry. The statistics indicate that medical errors are a leading cause of death, yet the same level of scrutiny applied in aviation is not present in healthcare.

The author of the book argues that the healthcare system needs to adopt a similar rigorous interrogation of mistakes. In aviation, individuals who report errors are protected from prosecution, fostering an environment of openness and learning. Conversely, in many industries, including healthcare, there is a fear of repercussions, leading to a culture of cover-ups. This lack of transparency prevents organisations from learning from their errors, which ultimately hinders progress. Black box thinking encourages a willingness to investigate failures and learn from them, creating systems that enable organisations to grow rather than be threatened by mistakes.

The Jewish tradition exemplifies this black box thinking by meticulously recording their historical mistakes to ensure future generations learn from them. This practice has contributed to their survival as a distinct ethnic community for over three thousand years, unlike any other group that has maintained an unbroken historical lineage. Paul Johnson notes that to the Jews, we owe fundamental concepts such as equality before the law, the sanctity of life, and the dignity of the individual. These ideas have shaped our moral consciousness, regardless of our beliefs about God or the Bible.

For me, this understanding of history is crucial for good governance. If political philosophy is grounded solely in abstract concepts, it can lead to totalitarianism. A well-functioning society must be rooted in historical understanding and the nature of reality. David Hume, one of Scotland's greatest philosophers, exemplifies this approach. His work, 'A Treatise of Human Nature,' is foundational in European philosophy. Hume wrote this after reflecting on his six-volume 'History of England,' which encompassed the entire United Kingdom. His reflections on history informed his understanding of human nature and political philosophy, demonstrating the importance of learning from the past.

The theory of economics has been explored by various philosophers, one of whom is Adam Smith, a Scottish economist and a friend of David Hume. Smith wrote the famous book 'The Wealth of Nations', which inquired into the nature and causes of national wealth. He was interested in understanding why some nations are wealthy while others are poor, and he sought to identify the causes of both poverty and wealth. Before 'The Wealth of Nations', he authored 'The Theory of Moral Sentiments', a book he revisited and revised multiple times. This work delves into human nature, incorporating what we now recognise as psychology and sociology, and offers a profound understanding of human emotions, intellect, and motivations. Based on this understanding, Smith proposed an economic model that aligns with the true nature of human beings, which laid the groundwork for what we now refer to as the free market.

Smith's approach was empirical; he studied reality rather than imposing an idealistic model of how he thought people ought to be. This perspective is crucial when examining governance and societal structures. Reflecting on biblical history and the lessons it offers, we can draw parallels to modern governance. The development of a liberal democracy in Britain, which influenced the United States, is significant. The Judeo-Christian values that underpin this democracy suggest that there are lessons to be learned from British philosophers and history, just as there are from Jewish history, which contributed to the coming of the Messiah. Understanding these historical contexts can provide insights into good governance.

In a speech given at a conference in 1981, Father spoke about the nature of peace, emphasising that it is not only desired on a global level but also within nations, societies, and families. He highlighted the importance of individual peace, stating that without it, family peace cannot be achieved, and consequently, societal and world peace cannot follow. Individuals are the fundamental units of families, and if they are in conflict, this discord will manifest in their interactions with others. Therefore, achieving individual peace is paramount, as it lays the foundation for a harmonious family and, by extension, a peaceful society.

Father also pointed out that many leaders mistakenly believe that outstanding organisation and superior thought can restore order and peace in society. This belief often leads to a reliance on intellectuals and technocrats who think they know what is best for everyone. This was evident in the recent referendum in Britain regarding EU membership, where many intellectuals dismissed the general populace as too ignorant to make an informed decision. However, the outcome demonstrated that the voice of the people should be trusted. The notion that peace can be imposed through superior organisation alone is flawed; true peace must begin with the individual and expand outward.

The quest for peace must start with individual peace, which then extends to families, societies, and ultimately the world. This philosophical understanding is essential when considering the role of government. Confucius articulated a similar sentiment, stating that those who wish to preserve the character of the people must first put their nation in order, which begins with regulating family life and improving individual character. This process requires sincere will and true knowledge, which can only be achieved through honest investigation and reflection on history. The Jewish tradition exemplifies this pursuit of true knowledge, as they critically examine their past to learn from both successes and failures.

In any learning community, including spiritual ones, it is vital to reflect on past actions and decisions to avoid repeating mistakes. This self-critical approach allows for growth and improvement. The Jewish people, through their writings, have demonstrated a commitment to radical honesty, which is often lacking in other contexts. This honesty is crucial for learning and progress, as it enables communities to acknowledge their shortcomings without fear of losing face. A similar approach should be adopted in the Unification Movement, where an honest appraisal of history, including mistakes and challenges, is necessary for future development.

The government is within society, so I want to start exploring some of these conclusions. What is it that all human beings want? That's where the principle starts, and it's also a place that Aristotle begins. It's important to understand what human beings desire before we can determine what kind of government we need. In the view that all knowledge and every pursuit aims at some good, there is general agreement among both the general populace and those of superior refinement that it is happiness. They identify living well and doing well with being happy. The principle states that everyone wants to be happy and avoid unhappiness. Aristotle wrote extensively about happiness, and at the end of the day, we want to be happy; that is the first thing—individual happiness. However, Aristotle also pointed out that it would be strange to represent the supremely happy man as a recluse living alone. No one would choose to have all possible good things if they had to enjoy them alone. Man is a social being, and his nature is to live with others. Accordingly, the happy man must have society, which includes family, friendship, community, and nation. We enjoy things together with others; it is nicer to eat with someone than to eat alone. As God said in Genesis, 'It is not good for man to be alone.' God created Adam, and when He saw Adam alone, He created the animals and then Eve, highlighting a basic insight into human nature.

If happiness is about being fulfilled, how is happiness obtained? The principle offers a simple understanding: happiness is retained when our desires are fulfilled. If we are hungry, we feel happy when we eat. If we miss someone and then see them, our hearts leap with joy. Happiness, therefore, can be understood as a fulfillment of desires. However, some desires are unrealistic. For instance, one might think they can fly by jumping off a skyscraper, but that does not work due to the laws of gravity. Some desires are immature; wanting to drive a car at four years old is unrealistic because one cannot reach the pedals. Other desires can be excessive; enjoying chocolate is fine, but too much can lead to sickness. Some desires are simply wrong; feeling angry and wanting to harm someone is a wrong desire. Fulfilling any of these desires can lead to unhappiness. Unrealistic desires can lead to disappointment, immature desires can cause frustration, excessive desires can lead to illness, and wrong desires can result in severe consequences, such as imprisonment. All religions recognise this reality.

While we discuss good governance, we must also acknowledge that everyone needs to find deep inner peace. This is why figures like Trump have said, 'Peace starts with me.' Peace does not begin with the government or politicians making settlements; it starts within the individual. Paul recognised this need for inner peace when he expressed his inner conflict. Jeremiah spoke of the heart being corrupt, and Buddhism teaches that all suffering is caused by craving, which is excessive and uncontrolled desire. The Buddhist way of life focuses on eliminating excessive desire. If one is addicted to substances, the intense craving leads to misery until the next fix is obtained. Buddhists would argue that it is this excessive craving that leads to unhappiness. Therefore, we need to control our desires. There is a paradox here: the fulfillment of desire can lead both to unhappiness and suffering. The purpose of religion is to teach people how to manage their desires, fulfil the right ones, and recognise the wrong ones. All desires need to be channelled and controlled to bring happiness rather than suffering. This is the aim and objective of all religions: to guide people towards good desires that lead to joy, happiness, and peace, while warning against desires that lead to suffering or hell.

When we consider the main desires that people have, we can identify several key aspects. Firstly, there is a desire for basic physiological needs: to eat, sleep, and be warm. If we do not have enough to eat, we cannot survive. This is a simple version of Maslow's hierarchy of needs. Once these basic needs are met, we desire relationships with others and the experience of love within family and friendship. However, people also want to engage with a wider society and may seek positions of power to make a difference in the world. Additionally, there is a desire for knowledge and understanding, as well as a desire to worship God. In a 40-day workshop, Reverend Moon discussed these four desires, and I have added a fifth: the desire to worship. This modification reflects the need for spiritual and moral guidance to fulfil the other four desires appropriately.

To fulfil the human desire for love, we have the social system called the family. For material needs, we have the economy, which provides shops that sell food. To fulfil the desire for authority and position, we have civil society and politics. Education exists to fulfil the desire for knowledge and skills. Lastly, to fulfil the desire to worship and live a meaningful life, we need religion. These different social systems are interconnected, and I will examine the role of government within these five systems. Before we delve into these social systems, we need to understand how society develops. David Hume accurately described this process. In the realm of physical science, data is gathered through experiments, and results are analysed to form theories. Similarly, human history serves as data, reflecting the consequences of decisions made by individuals. The Bible, for instance, is a record of human history, meant for reflection and learning rather than judgement. Understanding British history or any history requires studying the past to learn from it.

Hume wrote extensively on English history, reflecting on how society develops. He noted that when individuals labour alone, their capacity to accomplish much is limited. If one must grow all their own vegetables, care for sheep, fish, and build their own house, they cannot achieve much. Society, according to Hume, provides a solution to this problem. He described society as the natural attraction and love between the sexes. When a man sees a beautiful woman, he feels a physical and emotional attraction, leading to a union. This love brings unity, and through marriage, couples work together, eventually having children as a fruit of their love. This new concern for their offspring further binds the parents together. Hume's observations align with the idea that the family is a school of love, and as families grow, they expand into small societies, including children, grandchildren, and extended family. As the distance between individuals increases, the strength of affection may decline, but the foundational relationships remain significant.

There may be a cousin who doesn't share the same grandparents as you, as they are related through marriage. This creates a natural feeling of distance, as you are related but not in the same way as blood relatives. In small societies, these relationships through intermarriage and friendship help merge into a larger society. People naturally help each other; they celebrate important occasions together, such as birthdays and weddings, and share the products of their work. In closely related societies, traditions and customs develop that explain roles and responsibilities, dictating who should do what. David Hume describes how every society has its own customs and traditions, without claiming any ideal way of doing things. He simply observes that these variations exist and that people have a sense of duty towards their family and community.

Hume notes that while we need goods—such as food, wood, and metal—there is often not enough to satisfy everyone's desires. This scarcity leads to instability in possession; for instance, if you plant an apple tree, there is no guarantee you will benefit from its fruit. The same applies to building a house; you may not be able to enjoy it fully. Hume observes that our strongest attention is directed towards ourselves, ensuring our own well-being and that of our immediate family before extending care to relatives and friends. He argues that it is only the weakest affection that reaches out to strangers, and this partiality influences our behaviour and moral judgement in society.

Hume describes a moral society where people take greater care of their immediate family than of others. While we may disapprove of someone who neglects their family in favour of strangers, we also judge those who only care for their family without sharing their wealth. The responsibility to care for one's own family comes first, but it should also extend outward. Confucius made a similar point, warning that if one treats strangers as family, they may end up treating their own family as strangers. This distinction is vital for a healthy society.

Hume further explains that people naturally share what they have with those they care for, but scarcity can lead to envy and conflict. If resources are limited, such as apples or fishing spots, competition can arise. People desire to own things for themselves and their families, but they also want to enjoy their possessions without interference. Hume distinguishes between ownership and mere possession; true ownership means having the assurance that what you own will remain yours. He asserts that everyone should be left undisturbed in the enjoyment of their possessions, which fosters a sense of empathy among individuals.

This principle of ownership is not based on natural rights but is an artificial social convention that works effectively. Hume argues that as long as everyone acknowledges ownership, conflict over resources diminishes. When every item is owned by someone, there is no fighting over it, as people respect the established conventions. The institution of property encourages a long-term perspective, as individuals are more likely to care for what they own if they can pass it on to future generations. This sense of lineage promotes industriousness, as people work not just for themselves but for their descendants.

Different types of property exist, including common ownership, where land belongs to everyone. In England, for example, there are commons where anyone can graze their sheep or cows. However, this often leads to neglect, as no one takes responsibility for the land. This phenomenon is known as the tragedy of the commons, where shared resources become overused and damaged because individuals act in their own self-interest rather than caring for the collective good.

My cows on the commons before anybody else does got overgrazed and damaged, leading to a shared resource system where individual users, acting independently according to their own self-interest, behave contrary to the common good of all users. This results in the depletion or spoiling of the shared resource through collective action. For example, overgrazing occurs on a field owned by everyone in the village, and overfishing happens because nobody owns the river or the fishing rights. This can also apply to environmental damage; why should I take care of it if I can just take the most out of it? This issue is not limited to natural resources; it can also be seen in an office fridge that nobody bothers to clean because it's everybody's. This is the problem with common ownership, which leads to the tragedy of the commons. Many countries experience this phenomenon.

An alternative approach is collective ownership of property. This addresses the tragedy of the commons by establishing a system of more collective ownership. For instance, parks are owned by the community, but there is someone who manages them. This management ensures that the grass is maintained and the roads are not full of potholes due to overuse. Collective ownership extends beyond parks and roads to various other public resources, but it raises the question of who truly owns these resources. Public choice theory analyses this issue, suggesting that while many people act with concern for others, the dominant motive in the marketplace—whether among employers, employees, or consumers—is self-interest.

When you buy something, you typically do so because you need it, not to support the shop. Similarly, when working, you expect to be paid for your efforts. Public choice economists argue that, although individuals in the political marketplace may have some concern for others, their main motive is self-interest. This perspective applies to voters, politicians, lobbyists, and bureaucrats. When analysing state enterprises, these economists often find that many individuals working in the public sector are primarily concerned with their own interests rather than serving the public good. Thus, just because something is publicly owned does not mean it is genuinely serving the public.

The most extreme form of collective ownership is communism, where everything is owned by the state. In this case, the question arises: who truly owns it? In communist societies, control often lies with the members of the communist party, who manage resources for their own benefit. Hugh Mosser discusses private property and personal ownership, where individuals can use and dispose of their property as they wish. For example, if I own a bicycle, I can break it, sell it, or give it away. Hume describes property ownership in Scotland based on Roman law, noting that while he explains how it is, he does not prescribe how it ought to be.

Hume's considerations include present possession, which assumes that if a bicycle is in your possession, it is yours. However, this raises questions about original possession. If someone claims that the bicycle originally belonged to them and was stolen, original possession takes precedence. Hume also discusses long possession, suggesting that if individuals have owned and lived on land for a significant period, it becomes theirs, even if they are not the original owners. This concept relates to statute limitations, which prevent claims based on ownership from centuries ago. For instance, if the English settled in Britain 1,600 years ago, can we say that the land should be returned to the original inhabitants? Hume argues that long possession must be recognised to avoid endless disputes over original ownership.

Another aspect Hume mentions is accession, where ownership extends to the products of one's property. If I own an apple tree, I own the apples it produces. Similarly, if I own two sheep and they have offspring, those offspring also belong to me. Succession through inheritance is another way of establishing ownership; for example, if a house belonged to my parents and grandparents, I inherit it, even without formal documentation. Hume does not prescribe a specific ownership model but rather describes what works well in society. The legitimacy of ownership must be recognised within that society, so people feel confident in their rights to property. Without this recognition, conflicts can arise over historical claims to land.

For instance, the Normans conquered England a thousand years ago and redistributed land to their followers. Some families still possess that land today, and it would be unreasonable to claim it back based on distant ancestral ownership. Society must accept that time has passed, and legitimate rights to property must be recognised to prevent conflict. If people refuse to accept that they lost land in a war, the conflict can drag on indefinitely, resembling a feud. This situation is evident in certain parts of the world where individuals insist on reclaiming lost land rather than moving on.