On the Duty of Civil Disobedience

On the Duty of Civil Disobedience

I heartily accept the motto,—“That government is best which governs

least;” and I should like to see it acted up to more rapidly and

systematically. Carried out, it finally amounts to this, which also I

believe—“That government is best which governs not at all;” and when

men are prepared for it, that will be the kind of government which they

will have. Government is at best but an expedient; but most governments

are usually, and all governments are sometimes, inexpedient. The

objections which have been brought against a standing army, and they

are many and weighty, and deserve to prevail, may also at last be

brought against a standing government. The standing army is only an arm

of the standing government. The government itself, which is only the

mode which the people have chosen to execute their will, is equally

liable to be abused and perverted before the people can act through it.

Witness the present Mexican war, the work of comparatively a few

individuals using the standing government as their tool; for, in the

outset, the people would not have consented to this measure.

This American government,—what is it but a tradition, though a recent

one, endeavoring to transmit itself unimpaired to posterity, but each

instant losing some of its integrity? It has not the vitality and force

of a single living man; for a single man can bend it to his will. It is

a sort of wooden gun to the people themselves; and, if ever they should

use it in earnest as a real one against each other, it will surely

split. But it is not the less necessary for this; for the people must

have some complicated machinery or other, and hear its din, to satisfy

that idea of government which they have. Governments show thus how

successfully men can be imposed on, even impose on themselves, for

their own advantage. It is excellent, we must all allow; yet this

government never of itself furthered any enterprise, but by the

alacrity with which it got out of its way. _It_ does not keep the

country free. _It_ does not settle the West. _It_ does not educate. The

character inherent in the American people has done all that has been

accomplished; and it would have done somewhat more, if the government

had not sometimes got in its way. For government is an expedient, by

which men would fain succeed in letting one another alone; and, as has

been said, when it is most expedient, the governed are most let alone

by it. Trade and commerce, if they were not made of India rubber, would

never manage to bounce over obstacles which legislators are continually

putting in their way; and, if one were to judge these men wholly by the

effects of their actions, and not partly by their intentions, they

would deserve to be classed and punished with those mischievous persons

who put obstructions on the railroads.

But, to speak practically and as a citizen, unlike those who call

themselves no-government men, I ask for, not at once no government, but

_at once_ a better government. Let every man make known what kind of

government would command his respect, and that will be one step toward

obtaining it.

After all, the practical reason why, when the power is once in the

hands of the people, a majority are permitted, and for a long period

continue, to rule, is not because they are most likely to be in the

right, nor because this seems fairest to the minority, but because they

are physically the strongest. But a government in which the majority

rule in all cases can not be based on justice, even as far as men

understand it. Can there not be a government in which the majorities do

not virtually decide right and wrong, but conscience?—in which

majorities decide only those questions to which the rule of expediency

there that the fugitive slave, and the Mexican prisoner on parole, and

the Indian come to plead the wrongs of his race, should find them; on

that separate, but more free and honorable ground, where the State

places those who are not _with_ her but _against_ her,—the only house

in a slave-state in which a free man can abide with honor. If any think

that their influence would be lost there, and their voices no longer

afflict the ear of the State, that they would not be as an enemy within

its walls, they do not know by how much truth is stronger than error,

nor how much more eloquently and effectively he can combat injustice

who has experienced a little in his own person. Cast your whole vote,

not a strip of paper merely, but your whole influence. A minority is

powerless while it conforms to the majority; it is not even a minority

then; but it is irresistible when it clogs by its whole weight. If the

alternative is to keep all just men in prison, or give up war and

slavery, the State will not hesitate which to choose. If a thousand men

were not to pay their tax-bills this year, that would not be a violent

and bloody measure, as it would be to pay them, and enable the State to

commit violence and shed innocent blood. This is, in fact, the

definition of a peaceable revolution, if any such is possible. If the

tax-gatherer, or any other public officer, asks me, as one has done,

“But what shall I do?” my answer is, “If you really wish to do any

thing, resign your office.” When the subject has refused allegiance,

and the officer has resigned his office, then the revolution is

accomplished. But even suppose blood should flow. Is there not a sort

of blood shed when the conscience is wounded? Through this wound a

man’s real manhood and immortality flow out, and he bleeds to an

everlasting death. I see this blood flowing now.

I have contemplated the imprisonment of the offender, rather than the

seizure of his goods,—though both will serve the same purpose,—because

they who assert the purest right, and consequently are most dangerous

to a corrupt State, commonly have not spent much time in accumulating

property. To such the State renders comparatively small service, and a

slight tax is wont to appear exorbitant, particularly if they are

obliged to earn it by special labor with their hands. If there were one

who lived wholly without the use of money, the State itself would

hesitate to demand it of him. But the rich man—not to make any

invidious comparison—is always sold to the institution which makes him

rich. Absolutely speaking, the more money, the less virtue; for money

comes between a man and his objects, and obtains them for him; it was

certainly no great virtue to obtain it. It puts to rest many questions

which he would otherwise be taxed to answer; while the only new

question which it puts is the hard but superfluous one, how to spend

it. Thus his moral ground is taken from under his feet. The

opportunities of living are diminished in proportion as what are called

the “means” are increased. The best thing a man can do for his culture

when he is rich is to endeavor to carry out those schemes which he

entertained when he was poor. Christ answered the Herodians according

to their condition. “Show me the tribute-money,” said he;—and one took

a penny out of his pocket;—if you use money which has the image of

Cæsar on it, and which he has made current and valuable, that is, _if

you are men of the State_, and gladly enjoy the advantages of Cæsar’s

government, then pay him back some of his own when he demands it;