Excerpts From “Civil Disobedience”

 

- Henry David Thoreau

 

(1849) (originally entitled:

 

Resistance to Civil Government)

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.

 

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. 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.

 

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.

 

Can there not be a government in which majorities do not virtually decide right and wrong, but

 

conscience?— in which majorities decide only those questions to which the rule of expediency is

 

applicable? Must the citizen ever for a moment, or in the least degree, resign his conscience to

 

the legislation? Why has every man a conscience, then? I think that we should be men first, and

 

subjects afterward. It is not desirable to cultivate a respect for the law, so much as for the right.

 

The only obligation which I have a right to assume is to do at any time what I think right.

 

The mass of men serve the state thus, not as men mainly, but as machines, with their bodies.

 

They are the standing army, and the militia, jailers, constables, posse comitatus, etc. In most

 

cases there is no free exercise whatever of the judgment or of the moral sense; but they put

 

themselves on a level with wood and earth and stones; and wooden men can perhaps be

 

manufactured that will serve the purpose as well. Such command no more respect than men of

 

straw or a lump of dirt. They have the same sort of worth only as horses and dogs. Yet such as

 

these even are commonly esteemed good citizens. Others— as most legislators, politicians,

 

lawyers, ministers, and office-holders— serve the state chiefly with their heads; and, as they

 

rarely make any moral distinctions, they are as likely to serve the devil, without intending it, as

 

God. A very few— as heroes, patriots, martyrs, reformers in the great sense, and men— serve the

 

state with their consciences also, and so necessarily resist it for the most part; and they are

 

commonly treated as enemies by it. A wise man will only be useful as a man, and will not submit

 

to be "clay," and "stop a hole to keep the wind away," but leave that office to his dust at least:

 

"I am too high-born to be propertied,

 

To be a secondary at control,

 

Or useful serving-man and instrument

 

To any sovereign state throughout the world."

[William Shakespeare King John]

How does it become a man to behave toward this American government today? I answer, that he

 

cannot without disgrace be associated with it. I cannot for an instant recognize that political

 

organization as my government which is the slave's government also.

 

All men recognize the right of revolution; that is, the right to refuse allegiance to, and to resist,

 

the government, when its tyranny or its inefficiency are great and unendurable. But almost all say

 

that such is not the case now. But such was the case, they think, in the Revolution Of '75. If one

 

were to tell me that this was a bad government because it taxed certain foreign commodities

 

brought to its ports, it is most probable that I should not make an ado about it, for I can do

 

without them. All machines have their friction; and possibly this does enough good to

 

counterbalance the evil. At any rate, it is a great evil to make a stir about it. But when the friction

 

comes to have its machine, and oppression and robbery are organized, I say, let us not have such

 

a machine any longer. In other words, when a sixth of the population of a nation which has

 

undertaken to be the refuge of liberty are slaves, and a whole country is unjustly overrun and

 

conquered by a foreign army, and subjected to military law, I think that it is not too soon for

 

honest men to rebel and revolutionize. What makes this duty the more urgent is the fact that the

 

country so overrun is not our own, but ours is the invading army.

 

All voting is a sort of gaming, like checkers or backgammon, with a slight moral tinge to it, a

 

playing with right and wrong, with moral questions; and betting naturally accompanies it. The

 

character of the voters is not staked. I cast my vote, perchance, as I think right; but I am not

 

vitally concerned that that right should prevail. I am willing to leave it to the majority. Its

 

obligation, therefore, never exceeds that of expediency. Even voting for the right is doing

 

nothing for it. It is only expressing to men feebly your desire that it should prevail. A wise man

 

will not leave the right to the mercy of chance, nor wish it to prevail through the power of the

 

majority. There is but little virtue in the action of masses of men.

 

Unjust laws exist: shall we be content to obey them, or shall we endeavor to amend them, and

 

obey them until we have succeeded, or shall we transgress them at once? Men generally, under

 

such a government as this, think that they ought to wait until they have persuaded the majority to

 

alter them. They think that, if they should resist, the remedy would be worse than the evil. But it

 

is the fault of the government itself that the remedy is worse than the evil. It makes it worse.

 

Why is it not more apt to anticipate and provide for reform? Why does it not cherish its wise

 

minority? Why does it cry and resist before it is hurt? Why does it not encourage its citizens to

 

be on the alert to point out its faults, and do better than it would have them? Why does it always

 

crucify Christ, and excommunicate Copernicus and Luther, and pronounce Washington and

 

Franklin rebels?

 

As for adopting the ways which the State has provided for remedying the evil, I know not of

 

such ways. They take too much time, and a man's life will be gone. I have other affairs to attend

 

to. I came into this world, not chiefly to make this a good place to live in, but to live in it, be it

 

good or bad. A man has not everything to do, but something; and because he cannot do

 

everything, it is not necessary that he should do something wrong. It is not my business to be

 

petitioning the Governor or the Legislature any more than it is theirs to petition me; and if they

 

should not bear my petition, what should I do then? But in this case the State has provided no

 

way: its very Constitution is the evil.

 

I meet this American government, or its representative, the State government, directly, and face

 

to face, once a year— no more— in the person of its tax-gatherer; this is the only mode in which

 

a man situated as I am necessarily meets it; and it then says distinctly, Recognize me; and the

 

simplest, the most effectual, and, in the present posture of affairs, the indispensablest mode of

 

treating with it on this head, of expressing your little satisfaction with and love for it, is to deny it

 

then.

 

I know this well, that if one thousand, if one hundred, if ten men whom I could name— if ten

 

honest men only— ay, if one HONEST man, in this State of Massachusetts, ceasing to hold

 

slaves, were actually to withdraw from this copartnership, and be locked up in the county jail

 

therefor, it would be the abolition of slavery in America. For it matters not how small the

 

beginning may seem to be: what is once well done is done forever.

 

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 anything, resign your office."

 

I have paid no poll-tax for six years. I was put into a jail once on this account, for one night; and,

 

as I stood considering the walls of solid stone, two or three feet thick, the door of wood and iron,

 

a foot thick, and the iron grating which strained the light, I could not help being struck with the

 

foolishness of that institution which treated me as if I were mere flesh and blood and bones, to be

 

locked up. I wondered that it should have concluded at length that this was the best use it could

 

put me to, and had never thought to avail itself of my services in some way. I saw that, if there

 

was a wall of stone between me and my townsmen, there was a still more difficult one to climb

 

or break through before they could get to be as free as I was. I did not for a moment feel

 

confined, and the walls seemed a great waste of stone and mortar. I felt as if I alone of all my

 

townsmen had paid my tax.

 

 

QUESTIONS:

 

1.) What does Thoreau mean when he writes, “Government is at best an expedient; but most

 

governments are usually, and all governments are sometimes, inexpedient?”

 

2.) Rewrite the fourth paragraph in your own words.

 

3.) According to Thoreau, what are the three types of men?

 

4.) Compare the lines of Shakespeare to Emerson’s ideas.

 

5.) Why is he so mad at the government?

 

6.) What is his problem with voting?

 

7.) What famous men does he allude to?

 

8.) What is Thoreau’s solution?

 

9.) To Thoreau, what is stronger than prison?