Ralph Waldo Emerson's friend and former Harvard classmate, Henry David Thoreau, shared Emerson's enthusiasm for limited government. In his famous essay on Civil Disobedience, he stated, "I heartily accept the motto 'That government is best which governs least;' and I should like to see it acted up to rapidly and systematically. Carried out, it finally amounts to this, which also I believe--'That government is best which governs not at all...'"
Consistent with that enthusiasm, Thoreau, too, was fearful of government regulation which might stand in the way of one's economic advancement: "For government is an expedient...when it is most expedient, the governed are most let alone by it. Trade and commerce, if they are not made of india-rubber, would never manage to bounce over the obstacles which legislators are continually putting in their way; and, if one were to judge these men wholly by the effects of their actions...they would deserve to be classed and punished with those mischievous persons who put obstructions on the railroads."
Thus, Thoreau too, all of his pretensions notwithstanding, was by education, temperament and family legacy a committed member of the bourgeoisie. Thoreau's individualism, a legacy of John Locke's liberalism carried to its extreme, was unabashedly libertarian: "But a government in which the majority rule in all cases cannot be based on justice...Must the citizen ever for a moment, or in the least degree, resign his conscience to the legislator? Why has every man a conscience then? I think we should be men first, and subjects afterwards."
Thoreau extolled the life of solitary contemplation. Consistent with the prevalent liberalism of nineteenth century New England culture, he seemed unable to fathom the inescapable truth expressed in the words of John Donne, that "No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main...any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind."[Meditation XVII]
Thoreau, ever the proponent of personal experience, was as oblivious as are most liberals to the social implications of each person's existence. Because of that social myopia, Thoreau's Walden was, in so many important ways, as was he, a fraud. His essay devotes significant sections to the pleasures that Thoreau derived from reading books presumably written by others, visitors, the village, Baker Farm, and the hermit with whom he sometimes went fishing. In addition, he sometimes dropped by the Emerson's household for victuals and conversation. Thoreau, despite his protests, was living proof that each of us is dependent upon one another for our intellectual, spiritual and physical existence.*
*This article is an excerpt from the author's recently published book, The Politics of Selfishness: How John Locke's Legacy Is Paralyzing America. Greenwood/Praeger/ABC-CLIO, 2010. Copyright © 2110 by Paul L. Nevins
Consistent with that enthusiasm, Thoreau, too, was fearful of government regulation which might stand in the way of one's economic advancement: "For government is an expedient...when it is most expedient, the governed are most let alone by it. Trade and commerce, if they are not made of india-rubber, would never manage to bounce over the obstacles which legislators are continually putting in their way; and, if one were to judge these men wholly by the effects of their actions...they would deserve to be classed and punished with those mischievous persons who put obstructions on the railroads."
Thus, Thoreau too, all of his pretensions notwithstanding, was by education, temperament and family legacy a committed member of the bourgeoisie. Thoreau's individualism, a legacy of John Locke's liberalism carried to its extreme, was unabashedly libertarian: "But a government in which the majority rule in all cases cannot be based on justice...Must the citizen ever for a moment, or in the least degree, resign his conscience to the legislator? Why has every man a conscience then? I think we should be men first, and subjects afterwards."
Thoreau extolled the life of solitary contemplation. Consistent with the prevalent liberalism of nineteenth century New England culture, he seemed unable to fathom the inescapable truth expressed in the words of John Donne, that "No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main...any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind."[Meditation XVII]
Thoreau, ever the proponent of personal experience, was as oblivious as are most liberals to the social implications of each person's existence. Because of that social myopia, Thoreau's Walden was, in so many important ways, as was he, a fraud. His essay devotes significant sections to the pleasures that Thoreau derived from reading books presumably written by others, visitors, the village, Baker Farm, and the hermit with whom he sometimes went fishing. In addition, he sometimes dropped by the Emerson's household for victuals and conversation. Thoreau, despite his protests, was living proof that each of us is dependent upon one another for our intellectual, spiritual and physical existence.*
*This article is an excerpt from the author's recently published book, The Politics of Selfishness: How John Locke's Legacy Is Paralyzing America. Greenwood/Praeger/ABC-CLIO, 2010. Copyright © 2110 by Paul L. Nevins