(Also posted to Medium)
Chesterton's Fence Right Through the Middle of Your House
Tomorrow morning, a day like any other, you wake up to find a fence running right through the middle of your house. This is, obviously, far too much to deal with at seven in the morning.
"Who built this fence right through the middle of our house?" you ask, aloud. "Dani? Did you build a fence last night after I went to bed?"
There is no response from Dani's room, or anywhere else.
Puzzled and exasperated, you attempt to make your way to the kitchen, but find that the fence is blocking your access.
"Okay," you say, although it is not okay, obviously. "This fence is really annoying and it's keeping me from getting to the kitchen. This is extremely inconvenient. Can whoever put it up please come and take it down?"
"Oh ho!" cries G. K. Chesterton, the renowned early 20th century writer, cultural critic, and conservative philosopher, "take down a fence? I'm afraid I cannot allow you to do that."
"G. K. Chesterton!" you shout, shocked and still in your pajamas, "How did you get in here?"
"Imagine," says G. K. Chesterton, undaunted by your question, "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.'"
"But," you object, "this fence is not across a road. It's right through the middle of my house."
"Regardless," says G. K. Chesterton.
"Also, someone literally just put it up last night," you continue.
"The underlying principle is the same!" insists Chesterton.
"It is not!" you contradict.
"I don't know," says Marie, from the other side of the fence. "I think he has a point."
"Marie!" you say to your housemate. "Really?"
"I mean, someone went to all the trouble to put up this fence in the middle of the night. Presumably they did so for a purpose," continues Marie. "It stands to reason that, out of respect for their hard work, we should at least consider that purpose before we destroy it."
"Just so!" says Chesterton, with great gusto.
"That's easy for you to say," you reply to Marie, "the kitchen's on your side of the fence."
"And the bathroom!" comes a faint cry from Dani's room.
"And the bathroom!" you add.
"Excuse me!" says Marie, "I take offense at that. I am merely stating a principled objection to your drastic proposal! The fact that the kitchen, bathroom, and front door are on my side of the house has absolutely nothing to do with it."
"Quite right," says G. K. Chesterton, "that was truly most uncivil of you."
"Also," says Dani, faintly, from their room, "can someone please come help me out here? I seem to have gotten tangled in this fence in the middle of the night."
"And now Dani's gotten tangled in the fence!" you add. Why are you even having this argument in the first place?
"The particulars of your situation may be unfortunate," concedes G. K. Chesterton, "but the principle is sound. Traditions exist for a reason."
Through the slats of the fence, you see Marie eating the last of the Pop-TartsĀ®.
"It's not traditional!" you shout, "it wasn't even here yesterday! Someone put a fence right through the middle of our house! In the middle of the night! Without asking!"
"Well, maybe they had a traditional reason for it," replies Chesterton, "Who are we to say?"
"We ARE people who LIVE in this HOUSE!" you reply.
"Can someone please bring me a saw or some wirecutters?" asks Dani, still in their room. "Being stuck in this fence is really uncomfortable and I need to get to work."
"I never!" says G. K. Chesterton, "Clearly, my dear, you are in no fit state for discussions of social issues. I shall return in a year or two when your emotions are more settled."
"You didn't have to be rude!" says Marie, between bites of Pop-TartĀ®.
"A year or two?" you shout, "I can't get to the kitchen, the bathroom, or the front door!"
"Well, now, who's fault is that?" asks Marie.
"Whoever built a fence right through the middle of this house!" you answer.
"Sure," says Marie, "but you have to admit that this is a complex situation."
"Maybe they were doing you a favor," says G. K. Chesterton, unhelpfully.
"Never mind," says Dani, "I managed to hammer my way out with my bedside lamp."
"It's not a complex situation!" you protest. "I just need to get to the bathroom!"
"If you want, you can crawl through the hole I just made," says Dani, emerging flustered from their room.
"What?!" shouts G. K. Chesterton, suddenly red in the face, "You cut a hole in the fence? Vandal! Philistine! Socialist! Call the police!"
"It's not that I don't sympathize," Marie says to you after the police have arrived to arrest Dani. "But they really should have gone through the proper channels."
Chesterton's Fence Right Through the Middle of Your House
Tomorrow morning, a day like any other, you wake up to find a fence running right through the middle of your house. This is, obviously, far too much to deal with at seven in the morning.
"Who built this fence right through the middle of our house?" you ask, aloud. "Dani? Did you build a fence last night after I went to bed?"
There is no response from Dani's room, or anywhere else.
Puzzled and exasperated, you attempt to make your way to the kitchen, but find that the fence is blocking your access.
"Okay," you say, although it is not okay, obviously. "This fence is really annoying and it's keeping me from getting to the kitchen. This is extremely inconvenient. Can whoever put it up please come and take it down?"
"Oh ho!" cries G. K. Chesterton, the renowned early 20th century writer, cultural critic, and conservative philosopher, "take down a fence? I'm afraid I cannot allow you to do that."
"G. K. Chesterton!" you shout, shocked and still in your pajamas, "How did you get in here?"
"Imagine," says G. K. Chesterton, undaunted by your question, "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.'"
"But," you object, "this fence is not across a road. It's right through the middle of my house."
"Regardless," says G. K. Chesterton.
"Also, someone literally just put it up last night," you continue.
"The underlying principle is the same!" insists Chesterton.
"It is not!" you contradict.
"I don't know," says Marie, from the other side of the fence. "I think he has a point."
"Marie!" you say to your housemate. "Really?"
"I mean, someone went to all the trouble to put up this fence in the middle of the night. Presumably they did so for a purpose," continues Marie. "It stands to reason that, out of respect for their hard work, we should at least consider that purpose before we destroy it."
"Just so!" says Chesterton, with great gusto.
"That's easy for you to say," you reply to Marie, "the kitchen's on your side of the fence."
"And the bathroom!" comes a faint cry from Dani's room.
"And the bathroom!" you add.
"Excuse me!" says Marie, "I take offense at that. I am merely stating a principled objection to your drastic proposal! The fact that the kitchen, bathroom, and front door are on my side of the house has absolutely nothing to do with it."
"Quite right," says G. K. Chesterton, "that was truly most uncivil of you."
"Also," says Dani, faintly, from their room, "can someone please come help me out here? I seem to have gotten tangled in this fence in the middle of the night."
"And now Dani's gotten tangled in the fence!" you add. Why are you even having this argument in the first place?
"The particulars of your situation may be unfortunate," concedes G. K. Chesterton, "but the principle is sound. Traditions exist for a reason."
Through the slats of the fence, you see Marie eating the last of the Pop-TartsĀ®.
"It's not traditional!" you shout, "it wasn't even here yesterday! Someone put a fence right through the middle of our house! In the middle of the night! Without asking!"
"Well, maybe they had a traditional reason for it," replies Chesterton, "Who are we to say?"
"We ARE people who LIVE in this HOUSE!" you reply.
"Can someone please bring me a saw or some wirecutters?" asks Dani, still in their room. "Being stuck in this fence is really uncomfortable and I need to get to work."
"I never!" says G. K. Chesterton, "Clearly, my dear, you are in no fit state for discussions of social issues. I shall return in a year or two when your emotions are more settled."
"You didn't have to be rude!" says Marie, between bites of Pop-TartĀ®.
"A year or two?" you shout, "I can't get to the kitchen, the bathroom, or the front door!"
"Well, now, who's fault is that?" asks Marie.
"Whoever built a fence right through the middle of this house!" you answer.
"Sure," says Marie, "but you have to admit that this is a complex situation."
"Maybe they were doing you a favor," says G. K. Chesterton, unhelpfully.
"Never mind," says Dani, "I managed to hammer my way out with my bedside lamp."
"It's not a complex situation!" you protest. "I just need to get to the bathroom!"
"If you want, you can crawl through the hole I just made," says Dani, emerging flustered from their room.
"What?!" shouts G. K. Chesterton, suddenly red in the face, "You cut a hole in the fence? Vandal! Philistine! Socialist! Call the police!"
"It's not that I don't sympathize," Marie says to you after the police have arrived to arrest Dani. "But they really should have gone through the proper channels."