Years ago, I wrote a series commenting on various interpretations of left and right as political terms. One analogy that stood out in particular was G.K. Chesterton’s story of two men encountering a fence in his 1929 book The Thing. This example has since come to be known as Chesterton’s Fence. He writes:
‘In the matter of reforming things, as distinct from deforming them, there is one plain and simple principle; a principle which will probably be called a paradox. There exists in such a case a certain institution or law; let us say, for the sake of simplicity, a fence or gate erected across a road. The more modern type of reformer goes gaily up to it and says, “I don’t see the use of this; let us clear it away.” To which the more intelligent type of reformer will do well to answer: “If you don’t see the use of it, I certainly won’t let you clear it away. Go away and think. Then, when you can come back and tell me that you do see the use of it, I may allow you to destroy it”.’
Note that both of these characters are identified as reformers. Neither are inherently opposed to reform, but go about it in two different ways. This is his way of defining what we would consider left and right today. The man on the left sees what he perceives to be a problem, and, after a quick glance, concludes that we must clear this fence. After all, it is blocking the way. Since roads are used for traveling, a fence is a clear problem, and the road would surely be improved through ease of travel without the fence.
Chesterton’s “more intelligent type of reformer” isn’t necessarily opposed to removing the fence. However, he rightly concludes that the fence must have a purpose for existing. That fence doesn’t block the road as a fallen tree might. It was built by people, which means it must have a purpose behind it. The intelligent reformer is playing it safe. He does not know the purpose of the fence, but wants to know the purpose before deciding to remove it. Maybe the fence is obsolete, or maybe the fence is still serving an unknown purpose, and tearing it down would do more harm than good.
The first reformer, willing to get to work and tear down the fence, is on the left. The more cautious reformer is on the right. It can be said that the left reformer is too careless with his activism. Sure, the removal of a fence might have minor consequences. And sure, the left reformer might be praised for his firm abolitionist attitude toward slavery, giving no regard to questions of efficiency or consequences of eliminating a mass injustice.
But the left reformer is also quick to do away with any tradition he can’t understand. Why do things this way if reason suggests otherwise, even if we’ve been doing it this way for centuries? He is reckless and would abolish the family, society, and the foundation of civilization if it meant correcting perceived injustices.
The right reformer, meanwhile, is willing to accept a corrupt and evil world, accepting that it cannot be totally fixed, but small, careful improvements can be made a bit at a time. He stresses prudence as a means to true progress. He recognizes that he stands on the shoulders of giants, and that civilization is more fragile than we might think. He seeks to understand the roots of traditions, and to preserve the ones that are worth preserving. If the foundations of his civilization are being uprooted (or have already been uprooted), he may become reactionary, relentlessly opposing the left reformer’s dangerous habit of tearing apart what is good.
The rightist, then, sees a good world falling apart around him. Whatever improvements there may have been do not overshadow or nullify the crumbling of important things. They need to be saved if possible. What is already rotten and destroyed must be rebuilt. And the rightist must be a vanguard against the left reformer trying to build a utopia on the ashes.
Chesterton was a man of the right. He proposed new ideas and welcomed positive changes, but stressed prudence and orthodoxy. Any radicalism was based on a realistic interpretation of man, not one that was quick to disregard any and all obstacles. To repeat his very important lesson:
“Go away and think. Then, when you can come back and tell me that you do see the use of it, I may allow you to destroy it”.