Chesterton’s Fence is a principle that reminds us to look before we leap. To understand before we act. It’s a cautionary reminder to understand why something is the way it is before meddling in change.
The principle comes from a parable by G.K. Chesterton.
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.”
In its most concise version, Chesterton’s Fence states the following:
“Do not remove a fence until you know why it was put up in the first place.”
The lesson of Chesterton’s Fence is what already exists likely serves purposes that are not immediately obvious.
Fences don’t appear by accident. They are built by people who planned them and had a reason to believe they would benefit someone. Before we take an ax to a fence, we must first understand the reason behind its existence.
The original reason might not have been a good one, and even if it was, things might have changed, but we need to be aware of it. Otherwise, we risk unleashing unintended consequences that spread like ripples on a pond, causing damage for years.
Elsewhere, in his essay collection Heretics, Chesterton makes a similar point, detailed here:
Suppose that a great commotion arises in the street about something, let us say a lamp-post, which many influential persons desire to pull down. A grey-clad monk, who is the spirit of the Middle Ages, is approached upon the matter, and begins to say, in the arid manner of the Schoolmen, “Let us first of all consider, my brethren, the value of Light. If Light be in itself good—” At this point he is somewhat excusably knocked down. All the people make a rush for the lamp-post, the lamp-post is down in ten minutes, and they go about congratulating each other on their un-mediaeval practicality. But as things go on they do not work out so easily. Some people have pulled the lamp-post down because they wanted the electric light; some because they wanted old iron; some because they wanted darkness, because their deeds were evil. Some thought it not enough of a lamp-post, some too much; some acted because they wanted to smash municipal machinery; some because they wanted to smash something. And there is war in the night, no man knowing whom he strikes. So, gradually and inevitably, to-day, to-morrow, or the next day, there comes back the conviction that the monk was right after all, and that all depends on what is the philosophy of Light. Only what we might have discussed under the gas-lamp, we now must discuss in the dark.
As simple as Chesterton’s Fence is as a principle, it teaches us an important lesson.
Many of the problems we face in life occur when we intervene with systems without an awareness of what the consequences could be. While we are well-intentioned, it’s easy to do more harm than good. If a fence exists, there is likely a reason for it.
Chesterton challenged the common belief that previous generations were foolish. If we fail to respect their judgment and understand their reasoning, we risk creating new, unexpected problems. People rarely do things without a reason, and just because we don’t understand something doesn’t mean it’s pointless.
Intellect is therefore a vital force in history, but it can also be a dissolvent and destructive power. Out of every hundred new ideas ninety-nine or more will probably be inferior to the traditional responses which they propose to replace. No one man, however brilliant or well-informed, can come in one lifetime to such fullness of understanding as to safely judge and dismiss the customs or institutions of his society, for these are the wisdom of generations after centuries of experiment in the laboratory of history.
Will and Ariel Durant
Consider the case of supposedly hierarchy-free companies. Some people believe that having management and an overall hierarchy is an imperfect system that stresses employees, potentially damaging their health. They argue that it allows for power abuse, encourages manipulative company politics, and makes it difficult for good ideas from the bottom to be heard.
However, eliminating hierarchies altogether in companies overlooks why they are so ubiquitous. Someone needs to make decisions and be held accountable for their outcomes. For example, people instinctively look to leaders for guidance during stress or disorganization. Without a formal hierarchy, an invisible one forms, which can be more difficult to navigate and may lead to the most charismatic or domineering individual taking control, rather than the most qualified.
While hierarchy-free companies are taking a bold risk by trying something new, their approach ignores Chesterton’s Fence and fails to address the underlying reasons for hierarchies in companies. Removing them doesn’t necessarily create a fairer or more productive system.
Before I built a wall I’d ask to know
Robert Frost, Mending Wall
What I was walling in or walling out,
And to whom I was like to give offence.
Think of the intricate web of social norms that govern human interaction. Many of these norms may seem arbitrary or outdated, ripe for reform. But each norm became a norm to serve some purpose – to foster cooperation, to prevent conflict, to maintain order. To sweep them away without understanding their role in the social ecosystem is to invite chaos.
Or consider the complex laws and regulations that structure our civilization. Each law, no matter how weird or burdensome, arose to address some problem or serve some constituency. Repealing them without understanding them risks the very issues they were designed to solve.
The point is not that the status quo is always right, that every fence should remain standing. Rather, it’s that reform should be preceded by understanding and that critique should be informed by context.
The point of Chesterton’s fence is not to hold on to the past, but to ensure we understand it before moving forward. We shouldn’t be too quick to dismiss things that seem pointless without first understanding their purpose.
Rory Sutherland makes this point with the example of a peacock’s tail. The tail’s value lies in its very inefficiency—it signals that a bird is healthy enough to waste energy growing it and strong enough to carry it around. Peahens use tails to choose mates with the best genes for their offspring. If an outside observer were to give peacocks regular, functional tails, it would be more practical, but it would strip away their ability to advertise genetic potential.
Changing Habits
We all try to change habits to improve our lives at some point. While it’s admirable to eliminate bad habits, many attempts fail because bad habits don’t appear out of nowhere. People don’t suddenly decide to start smoking, drink nightly, or play video games all night. Habits — good or bad — develop to serve an unfulfilled need, such as connection, comfort, or distraction.
Habits exist for a reason. Removing a habit without addressing the underlying need can lead to a replacement habit that might be just as harmful or worse. There are two ways to change habits. We can address the underlying need and eliminate the habit entirely, or we can replace the habit with a better (or less harmful one).
In the end, Chesterton’s Fence is a metaphor for the hard-earned wisdom of the ages. A reminder to understand something before you change it, to respect the past, even if you want to change the future. You don’t need to be a slave to tradition, but you should approach what already exists with humility and curiosity.