My Philosophy Paper

John Locke explains his view of the purpose of government in Chapter IX of his Second Treatise of Government. In the preceding chapters, he has set up his thesis by describing the state of mankind in the state of nature, outside of any kind of established law. Man possesses a liberty that allows him to perform any action that is in accordance with the natural law. This natural law has been given to him by his Creator, and as such, he knows it without having to be taught. Those who live according to the natural law “may not, unless it be to do justice on an offender, take away, or impair the life, or what tends to the preservation of the life, the liberty, health, limb, or goods of another” (9). In other words, if every man abides by this law, then his livelihood is safe, and he will never come into conflict with his neighbors.

However, there exist men who purposely violate the natural law for their own benefit. One who attempts to take the life or property of another without his permission has entered into a state of war with that person. Being in a state of war requires someone to constantly be on his guard, taking active measures to protect himself and his loved ones from those out to get him. Since the transgressor poses a threat to everyone in the state of nature, everyone has the power to punish him. The state of war is undesirable for obvious reasons; it requires substantial time and effort that keeps a man from pursuing his own ends. Thus, men establish ruling bodies to which they give their power of punishment in order to avoid this inconvenience.

Locke’s system of government, then, is an institution established with the full consent of the people, and its only purpose is to protect the private property of its citizens. He describes the full extent of governmental authority – first, the state has an established, settled, known law. Second, the state has at its disposal a neutral judge to resolve conflicts between citizens. Third, a government can only use its power to enforce these known laws. Finally, the government cannot pass laws whose end is anything other than the “peace, safety, and public good” (68) of the people.

Under Locke’s so-called “nightwatchman state,” the two greatest advantages that the people at large hold over the government are their stash of private property and the power of their consent. Both of these are indispensable towards maintaining their liberty by keeping the government in check. Some argue that Locke’s government is too limited, but his is a government that serves the people. As citizens hand more of their personal authority over to it, they begin to serve it more than it serves them. The result is a society of slaves.

The first part of Locke’s Theory of Private Property is relevant here. Regarding self-ownership, he asserts in Chapter V that a man owns himself and anything to which he has put his hand. If he tills a piece of land, then he ought to be the proper owner of whatever grows. Just as God created man and therefore owns him, man too can justifiably own anything that he creates. The final product of a man’s labor, then, be it food, clothing, intellectual property, or the money he receives for any of these, belongs to him and him alone. Private property is a God-given right, and government has no authority to commandeer it without its owner’s express consent. The loss of it leads to an increased reliance on the state.

The right of consent follows logically enough from the right of private property. The term “consent” is generally used with regard to two parties of unequal status – a higher power grants consent to lower power. A professor consents to let a student miss a day of class. A manager consents to let his employees wear jeans on Fridays. The people consent to let their government punish wrongdoers among them. This relationship works because the dominant party has something that the submissive party needs. A student relies on his professor for knowledge, an employee relies on his manager for money, and a government relies on the people for land, money, equipment, etc.

The balance of power shifts when the lower power no longer needs what the higher power has to offer. A student who has (or thinks he has) sufficient knowledge no longer cares about skipping class. An employee with enough money to retire doesn’t give much thought to the dress code anymore. A government with enough property to sustain itself no longer requires the consent of the people to pass and enforce laws that the people are still obliged to follow. In this case, in fact, an individual no longer has any consent to really provide – if he gives the government his land and his weekly earnings, then he has no means to support himself if he wants to break away. Since the government started off with no property at all, it must have acquired it consensually, little by little.

Locke’s minimalist government, then, ensures that as long as people hold private property and keep tabs on how much of their authority they give away, they won’t find themselves at the mercy of an all-powerful regime. At this point, as a bit of a side note, it seems appropriate to mention that Locke’s minimalist government has more authority than one might think. Take, for example, substances like heroin and cocaine. It seems that under Locke’s system, a person has the right to choose what he puts into his own body; government is powerless to stop him.

However, it is no small secret that many longtime users of such addicting drugs will end up killing themselves through an overdose. Locke previously posited that since every man is the property of his Creator, he does not possess the authority to take his own life. By endangering his life with a cocaine habit, a man is, in a sense, in a state of war with himself. Therefore, the government has every right to intervene. Locke’s supporters might also respond to the drug argument by introducing the addict’s wife and children into the picture. They are probably just as affected by their loved one’s habit as he is, and a government has the responsibility to care for every single one of its citizens. Government intervention benefits them, as well.

Let’s return now to Locke’s critics, those who consider his form of government to be too limited. From Locke’s perspective, society exists to remove the distractions that might prevent a person’s life from taking its natural course. A government should not actively benefit its citizens as much as remove the prospect of harm from their daily lives. The merits of this system have been demonstrated, but the alternate point of view deserves some consideration. Locke’s critics believe that government should not be a passive entity that protects its citizens from harm that may or may not come in the state of nature. Rather, it should be a progressive, proactive institution whose function is to better the lives of those who have put it into power. If a man gives up his state of absolute freedom to take part in society, should he not receive more than protection against only the most basic of worries? His government should satisfy his every need, not just remove inconvenience.

To get a clear picture of the opposite view, of a state in which the governing body holds absolute authority over its citizens, examine the society proposed by Socrates in Book V of Plato’s Republic. Let’s examine his government’s position on a single issue, a man’s freedom to marry and procreate. In Socrates’ society, the government has enacted a breeding policy to ensure optimal results for each generation. Breeding “festivals” held at certain intervals throughout the year pronounce random pairings, chosen by drawing lots, as married couples for the duration of sexual intercourse. Certain males viewed by the ruling committee as the most admirable may have four or five partners during the festival so that their genes are more widely disseminated.

The resultant children are taken away from their birth mothers and raised together so that neither parent nor child knows who their blood relatives are. Children born within seven to ten months of each other are raised together and prohibited from copulating with each other in the future to prevent incest. A certain number of guardians are appointed to each group of children to educate them and make them into model citizens. Locke’s opponents would perhaps be more comfortable with this government that takes the arduous responsibility of rearing a child out of an everyday citizen’s hands.

Now, granted, Socrates’ society has taken the role of government to the opposite extreme. Proponents of a more involved government, especially in modern times, would still probably consider a federal breeding program to be a bit on the radical side. However, examining such an absurd example allows one to more easily assess the flaws of models with similar bases. The more power a person gives to the government, the less power he holds for himself, for better or for worse. Individual choice and personal liberty decrease as the government’s power increases. Locke has already described the states of nature and war, states without government that leave individuals to fend for themselves. This state is equally undesirable; Locke’s opponents would surely prefer even Locke’s minimalist government to anarchy.

At the end of the day, the basic issue is how much personal liberty someone is willing to sacrifice for the sake of safety, security, and, yes, convenience. A person has fewer responsibilities and, thus, fewer concerns as he gives his government more authority, but are not the choices men make and the rationale behind them the distinguishing characteristic of human beings? From a Lockian perspective, one could argue that God placed mankind on the earth without any kind of government, implying that He intended for him to live entirely without one. Unfortunately, dissidents from the natural law make some form of government necessary so that a man’s concerns can extend beyond his most basic needs.

Even without the invocation of God, though, a person’s free will and personal liberties are indispensable. The purpose of Locke’s government extends no further than, again, “peace, safety, and public good” (68) with its adherents’ complete consent. This seems more logical and fulfilling than an overbearing, interfering regime bent on self-optimization.

Why I Write

I feel like I’ve been going through a bout of writer’s block lately. I’ll sit down to write a short story or a blog entry or something and end up discarding it after half a page or so. To combat this, I’ve set a goal for myself – every day this week, I’m going to sit down and whip out 650-700 words, one single-spaced page. Call it a way to get the creative juices flowing again. I’m not expecting brilliance, but maybe I’ll come up with a seed that I can turn into something worthwhile later on.

A logical question is why I feel this need to get myself back on track, writing-wise. Long story short, I enjoy it. I like putting my thoughts down on paper, organizing them, giving them eloquence. It always takes me a while to get started (the first page of an essay usually takes about three times as long to write as any of the succeeding ones), but once I fall into a groove, I just plain lose track of time. I become absorbed in the words I’ve written, whether what I’ve just written is any good, how I can make it better, where, if anywhere, I’m going with it, etc.

Example: I had to write a short story for my creative writing class a few weeks ago. I started and abandoned two stories in the week leading up to the due date because I just wasn’t feeling them. The story was due at two p.m. on a Wednesday; my third attempt, the one I ended up turning in, I started late Monday night. I only have one class on Tuesdays and Thursdays, which basically gave me the entire day to produce and proofread a fifteen-pager. That Tuesday, I wrote from about 11:30 in the morning to midnight solid, minus two short breaks for lunch and dinner. Not only did I not begrudge the amount of time I spent on this thing, I actively enjoyed it – finishing, I wished I had more to say and more time to say it. There are very few activities that I can just fall into like this without getting restless or distracted. I almost feel an obligation to myself to pursue it as much as possible.

The last time I felt prolific as a writer was when I had a Xanga during my sophomore and junior years of high school. I updated it pretty consistently, at least once a week, usually more. My material, however, left something to be desired – it didn’t really hit me until about a year after I gave it up what an unmitigated clusterfuck it was. Everything that a normal person would write in a private diary, I published on the Internet, blissfully unaware of the hole I dug deeper with each entry. I cursed people out by name, I bitched about my acne, about how I didn’t have a girlfriend, about how lonely I was because no one ever called me, etc. I can’t believe anyone could write so naively about such personal subject matter, let alone me, but then, I can’t believe I did a lot of the stuff that I did during high school.

My point is that I enjoy writing, but I equally enjoy people reading what I write. George Orwell was right – the number one reason that writers do what they do is sheer egoism. I could have just vented my problems into some secret Microsoft Word file and never looked at them again, but at the time, I felt that everything I had to say was worth sharing with the world. I’d say I’m better now, but I’m not. I’m just wiser. I’m more discerning about what I can post here and what I should probably keep private. My egoism is probably best evidenced by my project for this week. It’d be easier to just blather about some issues that have been on my mind lately in a spiral notebook or something, but it seems like a waste to let a week’s worth of work go unseen by anyone except me.

I already have some topics in mind for my next couple self-mandated assignments, which itself is half the battle. The fact that I’m looking forward to sitting down tomorrow and starting my next “column,” if you want to call it that, gives me hope that I might actually stick with it. I’m a very bad self-motivator, as anyone who knows me can attest. I’m well past my quota for the day, so I’m off to start a philosophy essay about how Communism is a worthy ideal in theory if not in practice. Reference number five in my previous post. Wish me luck.

Things That Make Me Feel Like a College Student

Things that make me feel like a college student:

1. Buying milk from CVS and carrying it home in a plastic shopping bag
2. Drinking non-coffee liquids out of a coffee mug
3. Taking a shower at two in the morning
4. Riding the bus with my backpack in my lap
5. Reading the Communist Manifesto
6. Eating in restaurants back home and wondering for a split second why no one else in there is my age
7. Sleeping for four hours when I meant to sleep for one. One and a half, tops.
8. Wearing a fedora
9. Taking my shirt off upon entering my dorm room for no particular reason

...and more as I happen to think of them.