Treatise of Civil Government and A Letter Concerning Toleration – John Locke

Foundations of Political Legitimacy and Religious Liberty

Preface and Introduction

We enter the work at its opening, where Locke establishes the occasion and purpose of his political writing. The *Treatise of Civil Government* is presented as a direct response to the arguments made by Sir Robert Filmer in *Patriarcha*, which defended the divine right of kings and absolute monarchy. Locke states clearly that he intends to examine the foundations of political authority and to demonstrate that no man is born into subjection to any earthly power unless he has consented to it.

Locke begins by declaring that “Slavery is so vile and miserable an Estate of Man” that it cannot be reconciled with the “generous Temper and Courage of our Nation.” He notes that the English people have long understood liberty as their birthright, and yet the arguments of Filmer and his followers threaten to undermine this understanding by claiming that all government descends from the paternal authority of Adam. The central question Locke poses is this: if all men are born free, how can they come to be legitimately governed by any political authority? Filmer’s answer was that men are never born free — they are born into subjection, just as children are subject to their fathers. Locke rejects this premise entirely.

“Slavery is so vile and miserable an Estate of Man, and so directly opposite to the generous Temper and Courage of our Nation; that ’tis hardly to be conceived, that an Englishman, much less a Gentleman, should plead for’t.”

The introduction thus frames the entire *Treatise* as a demolition of Filmer’s patriarchal theory and a reconstruction of political authority on the basis of consent, natural rights, and the public good. Locke does not merely want to refute a rival theory; he wants to establish a positive doctrine of legitimate government that can serve as a foundation for constitutional liberty.

What matters here is the explicit grounding of the work in a practical political contest. Locke is writing in the aftermath of the Exclusion Crisis and the Glorious Revolution, and his theoretical arguments have direct bearing on the legitimacy of resistance to tyranny. The stakes are not merely academic — they concern whether the people of England have the right to depose a monarch who violates the terms of his trust. This opening section makes clear that Locke intends to answer that question with systematic rigor.

The State of Nature

The first substantive chapter of the *Treatise* — Chapter II — presents Locke’s account of the State of Nature, which serves as the foundation for all that follows. Locke describes this state as one of “perfect freedom” in which men order their actions and dispose of their possessions as they see fit, without asking permission or depending on the will of any other man. Importantly, this freedom is not license. The state of nature is governed by a Law of Nature, which obliges everyone: “Reason, which is that Law, teaches all Mankind, who will but consult it, that being all equal and independent, no one ought to harm another in his Life, Health, Liberty, or Possessions.”

Locke’s state of nature is not Hobbes’s war of all against all. It is a condition of peace, equality, and mutual obligation, because the Law of Nature binds every person. This law is discoverable by reason, and it commands that since all men are the workmanship of God — “made by one omnipotent and infinitely wise Maker” — they are the property of God and not of one another. No man has the right to destroy another except in the pursuit of justice against a transgressor.

The key innovation in this chapter is Locke’s argument about who may execute the Law of Nature. In the state of nature, every man has the executive power of the law of nature: the right to punish offenders and to demand reparation for injuries. This is because there is no common judge on earth to settle disputes. Every person must act as both judge and executioner to preserve the peace and enforce the natural law. However, this power is not arbitrary — it is limited to what is proportionate to the offense and what is necessary for reparation and restraint.

“And that all Men may be restrained from invading others Rights, and from doing hurt to one another, and the Law of Nature be observed, which willeth the Peace and Preservation of all Mankind, the Execution of the Law of Nature is in that State, put into every Mans hands, whereby every one has a right to punish the transgressors of that Law to such a Degree, as may hinder its Violation.”

This chapter clarifies the starting point of Locke’s political theory. The state of nature is a real condition of human life — not a mere hypothetical — and it contains within it both perfect freedom and binding moral law. The problem that drives men to civil society is not the absence of law, but the “inconveniences” that arise when every person is judge in their own case: bias, passion, and revenge tend to disturb the peace. The state of nature is governed by reason, but it lacks an established, known law, an indifferent judge, and a power to enforce the law. These three defects motivate the creation of political society.

The State of War

Locke follows his account of the state of nature with a chapter on the State of War. This is a crucial distinction, because many critics (and defenders) of Locke have confused the state of nature with the state of war, as Hobbes famously did. Locke insists they are distinct. The state of war is a condition of “enmity and destruction” that begins when one person declares — by word or action — a settled, designed intention to take another’s life. Because no one has a reason to submit to someone who threatens their life, the victim has a right to destroy the aggressor “as he would a Wolf or a Lyon.”

The transition from the state of nature to the state of war occurs through an act of force without right. When someone attempts to subject another to their absolute power — to enslave them or kill them — they have declared themselves an aggressor and forfeited their own right to life. The victim may then resist, and in resisting, may kill the aggressor. This right of self-preservation is fundamental and inalienable: “He that in the State of Nature, would take away the Freedom that belongs to any one in that State, must necessarily be supposed to have a design to take away every thing else, that Freedom secures.”

Crucially, Locke argues that the state of war can exist both in the state of nature and in civil society. A tyrant who uses force without right against his subjects puts himself into a state of war with them, even if he holds the title of magistrate. The difference is simply that in civil society, there is an appeal to the common judge; in the state of nature, there is none. Where the appeal is cut off — where the law is silent or the magistrate is the oppressor — the state of war is renewed, and the right of resistance returns.

“And here we have the plain difference between the State of Nature, and the State of War, which however some Men have confounded, are as far distant, as a State of Peace, Good Will, Mutual Assistance, and Preservation, and a State of Enmity, Malice, Violence, and Mutual Destruction, are one from another.”

This chapter establishes the moral framework for political resistance. Locke is not arguing for anarchism; he is arguing that legitimate government ends the state of war by providing a common judge. But when government itself becomes the aggressor — when it uses force without right against the people — it forfeits its legitimacy and returns to a condition of war. The people then have the same right to resist the tyrant as they would any other attacker. This is the theoretical basis for the Glorious Revolution and for every subsequent act of justified rebellion against tyranny.

Of Slavery

The chapter on Slavery is brief but devastating. Locke defines slavery as “the state of war continued, between a lawful conqueror and a captive.” A man who has forfeited his life by an act of aggression may be lawfully killed by his victim, but his victim may also choose to delay the execution and use the captive’s labor. This is not a genuine compact or agreement — the captive consents under duress, and such consent cannot bind him. The relationship is one of mere force, not right.

Locke thus rejects the classical and medieval idea that slavery can arise from voluntary agreement. No man can sell himself into slavery, because no man has the power to take his own life or to give another absolute power over it. The right to life is not alienable: “For a Man, not having the Power of his own Life, cannot, by Compact, or his own Consent, enslave himself to any one, nor put himself under the Absolute, Arbitrary Power of another, to take away his Life, when he pleases.”

The only legitimate enslavement is the restraint of a captive who deserves death. This is not a permanent condition — it lasts only as long as the captor chooses not to execute the sentence. It is a form of suspended execution, not a transfer of rights. Locke makes clear that this does not establish any general justification for slavery, and that the slave’s situation is one of “drudgery” under the constant threat of death, not a political condition at all.

“The Natural Liberty of Man is to be free from any Superior Power on Earth, and not to be under the Will or Legislative Authority of Man, but to have only the Law of Nature for his Rule.”

This chapter performs two functions. First, it refutes Filmer’s claim that political authority is analogous to the authority of a master over slaves. Locke shows that slavery is a condition of force, not of right — and no legitimate government can treat its subjects as slaves. Second, it clarifies that absolute, arbitrary power is always illegitimate, because no man can consent to give another the power to kill him at will. This lays the groundwork for Locke’s later arguments about the limits of legislative power and the right of revolution.

Of Property

Locke’s chapter on Property — the fifth and one of the longest of the *Treatise* — is a landmark of political philosophy. It answers the question: how can men come to have exclusive ownership of anything in a world that God gave to mankind in common? The problem is acute because the Law of Nature grants to every man a right to his own preservation, but the earth and its fruits were originally given to all men in common. If the first man to grab something could claim it as his own, there would be endless conflict and the poor would starve.

Locke’s solution begins with the body. Every man has a property in his own person: “The Labour of his Body, and the Work of his Hands, we may say, are properly his.” When a man mixes his labor with something that is common — when he gathers acorns from the forest, or tills a plot of land, or catches a fish — he joins his own labor to that thing, and thereby makes it his property. The labor removes the thing from the common state and establishes a right of exclusive ownership. This is not a matter of convention; it is a natural right derived from the fundamental fact of self-ownership.

The crucial limitation on this right is the sufficiency proviso: “at least where there is enough, and as good left in common for others.” A man may appropriate as much as he can use before it spoils, but he may not take so much that others are left without the means of subsistence. The spoilage rule is equally important: “As much as any one can make use of to any advantage of life before it spoils, so much he may by his labour fix a Property in.” Beyond that point, taking is not appropriation but waste, and waste is a violation of the Law of Nature.

“Though the Water running in the Fountain be every ones, yet who can doubt, but that in the Pitcher is his only who drew it out? His labour hath taken it out of the hands of Nature, where it was common, and belong’d equally to all her Children, and thereby hath appropriated it to himself.”

Locke then traces the introduction of money as a pivotal development. Gold and silver do not spoil, so men can accumulate them without violating the spoilage rule. With the consent of others, men agree to place value on these durable metals, and this allows property to extend far beyond what one can personally use. The invention of money thus makes possible inequality of possessions, but this inequality is not unjust — it arises from voluntary agreements and productive labor, not from force or fraud.

This chapter is the economic foundation of Locke’s entire political theory. Property is a natural right that precedes civil society; government exists in part to protect it. The labor theory of value — the idea that labor is the source of property — would become enormously influential in later economic thought. But Locke’s main point is political: if property is a natural right, then no government can arbitrarily take it away. The protection of property is one of the primary ends of political society, and any government that violates this trust forfeits its legitimacy.

Of Paternal Power

We are moving from the economic foundation of property to a challenge against one of the most powerful political metaphors of the 17th century — the claim that political authority is modeled on the authority of a father over his children.

Locke opens this chapter by directly confronting the argument that paternal power is the origin of all government. This view, most famously advanced by Sir Robert Filmer, held that Adam’s fatherly authority over his children was absolute, and that all kings inherited this Adamic dominion. Locke calls this entire analogy into question by distinguishing sharply between the power a father has over his children and the power a magistrate has over citizens.

The first distinction Locke draws is temporal. Paternal power, he argues, is inherently temporary. Parents have authority over children only during their minority — the period in which children lack the reason and understanding necessary to govern themselves. “Children,” Locke writes, “are not born in this full state of equality, though they are born to it.” They are born neither free nor equal in practice, because they are born without the use of reason. Their parents’ authority exists solely to “preserve, nourish, and educate” them until they reach the age of reason, at which point they become as free as anyone else. The power of a parent is thus “a temporary government” that naturally terminates when the child matures.

Locke then dismantles the idea that this power is absolute. Paternal power, he insists, is not a power of life and death, nor a power over the child’s property. It is a power of nurture and education — a fiduciary trust exercised for the child’s benefit, not the parent’s. The parent may command the child, but only insofar as the command is directed toward the child’s preservation and development. A father cannot, for example, kill or maim his child, nor can he alienate the child’s inheritance. The power is strictly limited by its purpose: the raising of a free and rational being.

“The power, then, that parents have over their children arises from that duty which is incumbent on them, to take care of their offspring during the imperfect state of childhood.”

Locke extends this analysis to the relationship between husband and wife, which he distinguishes from both paternal and political power. The conjugal society is based on a voluntary compact for the purposes of procreation and mutual support. While there may be a need for a “rule” in such a society — and Locke grants that it naturally falls to the “abler and stronger” sex — this rule is “very far from a power of life and death” and does not extend to matters of property or the broader governance of society. It is a limited, domestic arrangement, not a model for political authority.

This chapter matters because it demolishes the patriarchal theory of government that Locke saw as the primary intellectual support for absolute monarchy. If political authority is not modeled on paternal authority, then kings are not fathers of their people, and subjects are not perpetual children. The relationship between ruler and ruled must be understood in an entirely different way — as a compact among free and equal adults, not as a natural hierarchy of parent over child. By confining paternal power to the nursery, Locke clears the ground for his positive account of political authority as something that arises from consent.

Of Political or Civil Society

Here Locke makes the decisive transition from the state of nature to the formation of political society, defining what it means for human beings to leave the natural condition and enter into a commonwealth.

Locke begins by distinguishing political or civil society from all other forms of human association. There are many kinds of societies — conjugal, parental, master-servant — but none of them is political. What makes a society political is that its members have “given up their natural power” to a common authority. In the state of nature, each individual has two powers: the power to do whatever is necessary to preserve himself and others, and the power to punish violations of the law of nature. The establishment of civil society involves both of these powers being resigned into the hands of the community.

The key mechanism is consent. Individuals enter into a “compact” with one another to form a single body politic, and this body now has the authority to make laws, judge disputes, and execute punishments. Locke states this with remarkable clarity: “Wherever any number of men are so united into one society, as to quit every one his executive power of the law of nature, and to resign it to the public, there and there only is a political or civil society.” The crucial point is that this is a transfer of power — but it is a transfer made by free individuals who retain ultimate sovereignty in the community.

Locke then describes what happens to those who remain outside this compact. They remain in the state of nature, without the protection of common laws or an impartial judge. They are subject to the inconveniences of the state of nature — the biases of self-judgment, the weakness of individual enforcement, the constant threat of war. The purpose of political society is precisely to remedy these inconveniences by establishing a known, settled law, a known and indifferent judge, and a power to execute the judgment. These three elements — law, judge, execution — are the defining features of civil society.

“Those who are united into one body, and have a common established law and judicature to appeal to, with authority to decide controversies between them, and punish offenders, are in civil society one with another.”

Locke is careful to distinguish political society from absolute monarchy. For him, an absolute monarch is no part of civil society at all, precisely because there is no common judge between the monarch and his subjects. The monarch judges in his own case, just as men do in the state of nature. This puts the subjects in a worse condition than the state of nature, because in the state of nature they still have the freedom to judge and execute for themselves, while under an absolute monarchy they are stripped of that power without receiving the protections of civil society. “Absolute monarchy,” Locke writes, “which by some men is counted the only government in the world, is indeed inconsistent with civil society, and so can be no form of civil government at all.”

This chapter is the hinge of the entire *Treatise*. It establishes that political authority is not natural but artificial — created by the consent of free individuals to escape the inconveniences of the state of nature. The terms of that creation are crucial: individuals give up their natural powers only to receive in return the protections of known law and impartial judgment. Any government that fails to provide these protections, or that claims power outside the terms of the compact, is not truly a civil society at all. Locke is here laying the foundation for the right of resistance that will follow.

Of the Beginning of Political Societies

Locke now addresses a practical and historical question: if political society is founded on consent, how have actual governments begun? He must show that consent is not merely a philosophical abstraction but has been the real foundation of political communities.

Locke begins by noting that all men are naturally free, equal, and independent, and that “no one can be put out of this estate and subjected to the political power of another, without his own consent.” The only way to leave the state of nature is by agreeing with others to unite into a community. This agreement is unanimous — every individual must consent to join. But once the community is formed, the majority has the right to act for the whole. The original compact creates a body that moves “whither the greater force carries it, which is the consent of the majority.”

Locke then examines how this has happened in practice. He acknowledges that history does not record every act of consent, but he argues that the beginnings of political societies can be inferred from how they actually operate. The union of families, the need for protection against foreign threats, and the gradual development of settled life all point to consent as the foundation. Even in the most ancient governments, the “beginning of political society depends upon the consent of the individuals to join into and make one society.”

“Men being, as has been said, by nature all free, equal, and independent, no one can be put out of this estate and subjected to the political power of another, without his own consent.”

The most important form of consent for Locke is express consent — the explicit agreement of an individual to become a member of a commonwealth. This obligates him permanently. But Locke also introduces the idea of tacit consent, which arises when an individual simply enjoys the benefits of a government — traveling on its roads, living under its laws, inheriting property within its jurisdiction. Tacit consent binds a person to obey the laws of that government while he is within its territory, but it does not make him a permanent subject. Only express consent makes one a full member of the commonwealth, with all the rights and obligations that entails.

Locke uses this distinction to answer a practical question: how can governments claim authority over people who were born into them and never explicitly consented? His answer is that any adult who chooses to remain within a territory and enjoy its protections has given tacit consent; that consent is sufficient to obligate obedience. But it is also revocable — one can leave and thus withdraw one’s consent. Only express consent, such as taking an oath of allegiance, creates a permanent bond. This distinction allows Locke to maintain the principle of consent while accounting for the reality of inherited citizenship.

This chapter matters because it makes the theory of consent concrete. Without the idea of tacit consent, Locke’s theory would require every individual to perform an explicit act of agreement — an impossibility for any existing state. With it, he can explain how actual governments are legitimate: they depend on the ongoing consent of those who live under them, even if that consent is not formally recorded. But Locke also preserves the possibility of dissent: one can always leave. This is the theoretical foundation for the right of emigration, and later, for the right of rebellion.

Of the Ends of Political Society and Government

We are now in Chapter IX of the *Second Treatise*, where Locke shifts from the question of how governments originate to the question of why they are necessary — what purposes they serve.

Locke begins by stating that the fundamental end of entering political society is the preservation of property. Here, as throughout the Treatise, “property” means not merely land or goods but life, liberty, and estate — everything a person has a right to. In the state of nature, each individual holds executive power to punish violations of natural law, but this arrangement is fraught with inconveniences. Locke identifies three principal defects of the state of nature that make civil government necessary. First, there is no established, settled, known law received by common consent as the standard of right and wrong. Natural law exists, but it is not written down; self-love and bias make individuals unreliable judges of their own cases. Second, there is no known and indifferent judge with authority to settle disputes according to the established law. In the state of nature, every person is judge in his own cause, and passion and revenge tend to carry men beyond the bounds of reason. Third, there is no power to execute and support the sentence when it is just. Even if a right judgment is made, there may be no force strong enough to compel compliance from an unjust aggressor.

“Thus mankind, notwithstanding all the privileges of the state of nature, being but in an ill condition while they remain in it, are quickly driven into society.”

Locke then describes what men give up when they enter civil society. They give up two powers that they held in the state of nature: first, the power to do whatever they think fit for the preservation of themselves and others (within the bounds of natural law), and second, the power to punish crimes against that law. These powers they surrender to the community, which then exercises them through established laws and appointed magistrates. The community thus becomes the umpire — the impartial arbiter of all disputes. In exchange, men receive the three things they lacked: settled standing laws, known authorized judges, and executive power to enforce judgments. The legislative power, being the supreme power in the commonwealth, cannot be arbitrary because it is bound by natural law and by the trust reposed in it. The legislature must govern by promulgated standing laws, not by extemporary decrees, and these laws must be designed for the good of the people.

This chapter matters because it completes Locke’s argument about the social contract. It is not merely a historical account of how governments began; it is a normative theory of what government ought to do. Government exists to remedy the inconveniences of the state of nature — to provide settled law, impartial judgment, and enforcement power. Any government that fails to provide these things, or that acts arbitrarily against the rights of its subjects, violates the very purpose for which it was created. Here Locke lays the groundwork for his later argument about when resistance to government becomes legitimate: when the government undermines the ends for which it was instituted.

Of the Legislative, Executive, and Federative Power of the Commonwealth

Chapter XII introduces a distinction between three powers within any properly constituted commonwealth. The legislative power is the power to make laws for the preservation of the community and its members. It is the supreme power of the commonwealth, but it is not absolute or arbitrary — it is a fiduciary power held in trust for the people. The legislative cannot transfer its power to any other body; it must remain with the persons to whom the people originally entrusted it. The executive power is the power to enforce and administer the laws within the commonwealth. It is subordinate to the legislative, but should be in the hands of a distinct body because the laws need constant execution while the legislative need not be always in session.

Locke then introduces a third power, which he calls the federative power. This is the power of war and peace, leagues and alliances, and all transactions with persons and communities outside the commonwealth. The federative power is distinct from the executive because it involves dealing with foreign entities who are not subject to the same laws, and because its operations require prudence and discretion that cannot be governed by fixed laws. However, Locke observes that in practice, the federative power is almost always united with the executive power. Both require the force of the society to be effective, and it is impractical to place the management of foreign affairs in hands separate from those that command the military.

“Though the legislative, as has been shown, be the supreme power in every commonwealth, yet, first, it is not, nor can possibly be, absolutely arbitrary over the lives and fortunes of the people.”

Locke argues that the legislative cannot rule by arbitrary decrees because it is itself bound by the law of nature. The fundamental law of nature is the preservation of mankind, and no human law can be contrary to that. The legislative cannot take property from a subject without the subject’s consent, because the whole point of entering society was to preserve property. The legislative cannot transfer its power to any other body, because it is delegated from the people and cannot be re-delegated. Finally, the legislative may not always be in session; there must be times when there is no lawmaking, but the executive must always exist to enforce the laws that have been made.

This chapter is significant because it establishes the separation of powers — though not in the same form that Montesquieu would later develop. Locke’s distinction between legislative, executive, and federative power is a structural account of how political authority must be divided to prevent tyranny. The legislative is supreme but limited; the executive is subordinate but continuous; the federative handles foreign relations with flexibility. The key insight is that concentrating all power in one body would destroy the ends of government. Locke’s theory of separated powers becomes a foundation for later constitutional thinking, particularly the American system of checks and balances.

Of the Subordination of the Powers of the Commonwealth

Chapter XIII addresses a potential problem: if the legislative is supreme, what limits it? Locke begins by stating that the legislative power is indeed supreme — no other power in the commonwealth can make laws or dictate to it. However, this supremacy is not absolute. The legislative remains a fiduciary power held in trust for the people, and when it acts against that trust, the people may remove or alter it. The first limit on the legislative is that it must govern by promulgated standing laws equally applicable to all. The second is that these laws must be designed for the good of the people. The third is that the legislative cannot take property without the consent of the people or their representatives. The fourth is that the legislative cannot transfer its power to any other body.

Locke then considers the relationship between the legislative and executive powers. The executive is subordinate to the legislative, because the legislature can alter or abolish the executive when it acts contrary to the trust reposed in it. However, Locke also recognizes that the executive must have some authority over the legislative. Specifically, the executive has the power to convoke and dissolve the legislative — to determine when and how long it meets. This is not a superior power but a prerogative for the convenience of the commonwealth: it prevents the legislative from being always in session, which would be burdensome, and ensures that the legislative meets when the commonwealth needs it.

“In all states and conditions, the true remedy for force without authority is to oppose force to it.”

Locke introduces the concept of prerogative more fully here. Prerogative is the power of the executive to act according to discretion for the public good, without the prescription of law, and sometimes even against the law where the law is silent. In well-ordered commonwealths, the executive possesses this power because not every situation can be anticipated by law. However, prerogative is a trust, not a right. When the executive uses prerogative for the public good, it is legitimate; when it uses it for private advantage, it is tyranny. The people are the ultimate judges of whether prerogative has been abused, and they have the right to resist when it has.

This chapter clarifies the hierarchical structure of Locke’s commonwealth. The legislative is supreme, but it is not absolute; the executive is subordinate but has discretionary power; the people are the ultimate sovereign who can judge whether their trust has been violated. The concept of prerogative is particularly important because it acknowledges the need for flexibility in government without abandoning the rule of law. Locke anticipates that emergencies will arise, and the executive must have the power to respond — but this power is always accountable to the people’s judgment.

Of Prerogative

Chapter XIV is devoted entirely to the concept of prerogative, which Locke has already introduced. He now defines it explicitly: prerogative is the power to act according to discretion for the public good, without the prescription of the law, and sometimes even against it. This power arises because lawmakers cannot foresee all matters that may be necessary for the commonwealth, and because the strict execution of law in some cases would produce great hardship. Locke gives the example of a house burning: if the law says the owner’s gate must not be broken, the executive must have the power to break it anyway to save the house. The ends of government — the preservation of life, liberty, and estate — sometimes require departing from the letter of the law.

Locke traces the historical origin of prerogative. In early commonwealths, when governments were simple and the legislative consisted of few people, the executive often had little need for prerogative because the legislative was always available. As commonwealths grew more complex, and as lawmakers became suspect of extending their own power, prerogative became more necessary. But Locke also warns that prerogative can be abused. When the executive uses this discretionary power to harm rather than help the people, it becomes tyranny. The people are the judges of whether prerogative is being used rightly; when it is used to their ruin, they may resist.

“Prerogative can be nothing but the people’s permitting their rulers to do several things of their own free choice where the law is silent, and sometimes too against the direct letter of the law, for the public good; and their acquiescing in it when so done.”

Locke argues that a good prince will use prerogative only for the public good, and the people will gladly allow such discretionary power because they trust the prince’s wisdom and virtue. A bad prince, however, will use prerogative for his own ends, and the people will eventually resist. There is no legal remedy for abuse of prerogative — the law is silent on such matters — because the very point of prerogative is that it operates beyond law. The only remedy is the people’s ultimate judgment and, if necessary, resistance.

This chapter is crucial for understanding Locke’s theory of executive power. He refuses to tie the executive completely to the letter of the law, recognizing that law cannot be omniscient. But he also refuses to make the executive absolute, insisting that the people retain the right to judge. Prerogative is thus a trust, not a right — it depends entirely on the executive acting for the public good. This creates a tension: the executive must have the power to act beyond law, but if it abuses that power, the only recourse is revolution. Locke is willing to accept this tension because he sees no alternative — either the executive has discretion, or the commonwealth is destroyed by strict adherence to law in circumstances where law cannot guide.

Of the Dissolution of Government

Chapter XIX, the final chapter of the *Second Treatise*, addresses the question of when and how government can be dissolved. This is the climax of Locke’s argument, because it justifies resistance against tyranny. Locke distinguishes between the dissolution of society and the dissolution of government. Society dissolves when the people are so corrupted that they cannot maintain the bonds of civil community; this is rare. The more common case is the dissolution of government, which happens when the legislative or executive power violates the trust reposed in it.

Locke enumerates several ways in which government is dissolved from within. First, the legislative is dissolved when the prince sets up his own arbitrary will in place of the laws, or forbids the legislative to assemble, or alters the method of elections, or delivers the people into subjection to a foreign power. Second, the executive is dissolved when the prince neglects the execution of the laws entirely — when there is no executive authority to enforce the laws, the government ceases to function. Third, the legislative or executive may act against their trust by invading the property or liberty of the subjects, or by attempting to establish absolute power over them. In any of these cases, the government is dissolved, and the people are freed from their obligation of obedience.

“The reason why men enter into society is the preservation of their property; and the end why they choose and authorize a legislative is that there may be laws made and rules set as guards and fences to the properties of all the members of the society, to limit the power and moderate the dominion of every part and member of the society.”

When government is dissolved, power reverts to the people. They have the right to resist the tyrants and to erect a new legislative as they think best. Locke is careful to argue that this does not lead to chaos. The people will not rebel lightly; they bear with great patience and long suffering before taking extreme action. Only when the abuses become systematic and evident — when there is a long train of oppressions — will the people rise up. Locke also argues that the people are the appropriate judges of when the government has violated its trust. There is no higher earthly judge, because the whole purpose of government is to provide a judge for disputes; if the government itself commits the injustice, there is no higher authority on earth to appeal to except the people themselves.

Locke concludes by contrasting his theory with the doctrine of absolute monarchy. In an absolute monarchy, the prince is above all law and there is no remedy for his abuses except heaven. In a constitutional commonwealth, by contrast, the people are the ultimate judges, and they have the right to remove or alter the government when it violates its trust. This is not rebellion against legitimate authority — it is the rebellion against tyranny, which is the only way to preserve the commonwealth against those who would destroy it.

This final chapter is the practical culmination of everything Locke has argued. The rights of life, liberty, and property, which he established in the state of nature, and which the social contract was designed to protect, are meaningless if there is no remedy for their violation by the government itself. Locke’s theory of dissolution and resistance provides that remedy. He does not advocate constant rebellion — quite the opposite. But he insists that the people retain the ultimate sovereignty, and that when the government becomes the enemy of the ends for which it was created, the people have both the right and the duty to replace it. This argument became the philosophical foundation for the American Revolution and for every subsequent movement that claims the right of resistance against tyrannical government.

A Letter Concerning Toleration

The Argument for Toleration as a Christian Duty

“I esteem it above all things necessary to distinguish exactly the business of civil government from that of religion, and to settle the bounds that lie between the one and the other.”

We are now in Locke’s *A Letter Concerning Toleration*, written in 1685 and published in 1689. This section opens the letter by establishing its central purpose: to draw a clear line between the jurisdiction of the magistrate (the civil government) and the jurisdiction of the church (religious authority). Locke begins by asserting that this distinction is “necessary” because the failure to make it has produced “all the confusion and mischief” that has plagued Christendom. The whole of the letter proceeds from this foundational act of separation.

Locke presents his argument by first defining the civil government as “a society of men constituted only for the procuring, preserving, and advancing their own civil interests.” He specifies that civil interests are “life, liberty, health, and indolency of body; and the possession of outward things, such as money, lands, houses, furniture, and the like.” The magistrate’s power is limited to these matters, and his authority rests entirely in “the force of arms,” in the power to compel through penalties and punishments, including the ultimate penalty of death. The civil law is enforced by external coercion. The entire purpose of government, Locke reiterates from the *Treatise*, is the protection of these secular interests — not the salvation of souls.

Having defined the civil realm, Locke then defines the church as “a voluntary society of men, joining themselves together of their own accord in order to the public worshipping of God in such manner as they judge acceptable to Him, and effectual to the salvation of their souls.” He emphasizes the word “voluntary” — no one is born into a church; membership must be chosen freely. No church has jurisdiction over another church, because each church is a free association of individuals. No church can compel anyone to join, because the care of a man’s soul is a matter entirely between him and God. The only power a church possesses is the power to admonish, to reprove, and ultimately to expel a member — excommunication — but excommunication has no civil consequences. It cannot deprive a man of his property or his freedom in the commonwealth.

Locke clarifies why this distinction is not merely theoretical but absolute: the magistrate’s power, which is force and compulsion, is simply the wrong instrument for the care of souls. Locke gives three arguments for this. First, “true and saving religion consists in the inward persuasion of the mind, without which nothing can be acceptable to God.” Inward belief cannot be produced by outward force — a man cannot be compelled to believe what he does not believe. Second, even if force could change belief, it would only produce hypocrisy, not sincere faith. Third, even if the magistrate were to use force for the right religion, there is no guarantee that any particular magistrate has the true religion — every magistrate believes his own religion is true, and so every magistrate would use force to impose his own faith, and the only outcome is endless conflict. “Your power, and your authority, and your laws,” Locke writes, “are of no force at all in matters of religion.”

The Limits of Toleration and the Boundaries of the Church

“The care of every man’s soul belongs to himself, and is to be left to himself.”

Locke now turns to the question of what the church is permitted to do and what the magistrate must tolerate. He begins from the principle established in the first section: the church is a voluntary society. Its laws and ceremonies must be directed solely to the worship of God and the salvation of souls. It may regulate its own worship, set its own forms of liturgy, and discipline its members through admonition and excommunication. But it has no authority over civil matters or over the civil magistracy itself. The church cannot use the civil sword; it cannot demand that the magistrate enforce its religious decrees.

Locke then addresses the relationship between the magistrate and the church. The magistrate’s duty is to ensure “civil peace and the preservation of all his subjects in the just possession of these things that belong to this life.” He is not to concern himself with the opinions or worship of any subject, provided these do not disturb the civil peace. Locke insists that “the magistrate ought not to forbid the preaching or professing of any speculative opinions in any church,” because such opinions concern only the “inward persuasion of the mind” and do not affect the civil interests of others.

But Locke does place limits on toleration. He specifies three categories of beliefs and practices that the magistrate is not required to tolerate. First, no church can tolerate opinions contrary to human society or to the moral rules necessary for civil society. This includes those who teach that “faith is not to be kept with heretics” — that is, that promises made to those outside one’s own church are not binding. It also includes those who claim that “sovereigns, excommunicated, forfeit their crowns” — the idea that the church has temporal power to depose civil rulers. Locke’s target here is any doctrine that directly undermines the authority of the civil government or the bonds of social trust.

Second, the magistrate does not have to tolerate those who “deliver themselves up to the protection and service of another prince” — that is, those who owe allegiance to a foreign sovereign, whether that sovereign is a civil ruler or the Pope. Locke is thinking of Catholics who acknowledge the Pope’s authority over civil matters, and of any church that claims the right to invoke foreign military power. For Locke, such allegiance destroys the civil contract and makes such persons “pernicious” to the commonwealth.

Third, the magistrate is not required to tolerate atheists, because “promises, covenants, and oaths, which are the bonds of human society, can have no hold upon an atheist.” Locke argues that the denial of God undermines the foundation of all moral obligation. The taking of an oath, which is central to legal and political life, presupposes a belief in a divine being who will punish perjury. Without that belief, oaths are meaningless and the entire social fabric is endangered.

The Power of the Magistrate in Indifferent Things

“Whatever is lawful in the commonwealth, cannot be prohibited by the magistrate in the church.”

Locke now considers the question of indifferent things — actions that are neither commanded nor forbidden by Scripture, and that are therefore matters of human discretion. This includes the time and place of worship, the form of ceremonies, the vestments of clergy, and many other details of religious practice. Locke argues that indifferent things are subject to the magistrate’s authority in civil matters, but not in religious ones. The magistrate may regulate them for the sake of civil peace, but he cannot impose them as conditions of salvation or use them to discriminate against particular churches.

Locke’s key argument here is that if a thing is lawful in civil life — if it is not prohibited by the law of nature or the civil law — then it cannot be prohibited by the magistrate solely because it is done in a religious context. If a man may lawfully wear a particular color of clothing in the street, the magistrate cannot forbid him from wearing that same color in church. If a man may lawfully assemble with others for a civil purpose, the magistrate cannot forbid him from assembling with others for worship. “You will say,” Locke anticipates, “that the magistrate may prohibit such assemblies because they are not according to the public order.” But Locke replies that the public order is itself defined by the legitimate ends of civil government, and those ends do not include enforcing uniformity of worship.

Locke then addresses the objection that allowing diverse religious assemblies will lead to “confusion and disorder.” He responds that the only disorder that matters is civil disorder — the disturbance of public peace, the violation of property, the threat to life. A peaceful gathering of worshippers, even if their doctrines differ from the magistrate’s, is not disorder. Locke points out that the magistrate himself is often the source of disorder when he attempts to suppress such gatherings by force. The true cause of civil strife in matters of religion, Locke insists, is not diversity of opinion but the attempt to suppress diversity by force.

Locke also addresses the question of whether the magistrate may impose his own religious practices on the whole commonwealth. His answer is no: the magistrate’s power extends only to civil interests, and religious worship is not a civil interest. The magistrate may practice his own religion, but he cannot compel others to practice it. If the magistrate believes his religion is true and that others will be damned without it, that is a matter between him and God — but it does not give him the right to use force. “It is not his business,” Locke writes, “to provide for the salvation of other men’s souls.”

Conclusion: The Unity of the Community Through Toleration

“The sum of all we drive at is that every man may enjoy the same rights that are granted to others.”

Locke brings the letter to a close by summarizing the principles he has established and applying them to the situation of his own time. He reiterates that the civil government and the church are distinct societies with distinct ends, distinct powers, and distinct means. The civil government exists for the protection of civil interests, and its power is force. The church exists for the worship of God and the salvation of souls, and its only power is persuasion. Neither may intrude upon the other’s domain.

Locke then applies these principles to the specific case of religious dissenters in England. He argues that dissenters — those who do not conform to the established church — should be tolerated so long as they do not disturb the civil peace. They may worship according to their own consciences, in their own assemblies, with their own forms and ceremonies. They may not be denied civil rights, such as property ownership or participation in civil government, on account of their religious opinions. No man is to be “persecuted because he is not of the same religion as that of the magistrate.”

Locke also addresses the relationship between toleration and the unity of the commonwealth. He argues that toleration does not weaken the commonwealth; rather, it strengthens it. “There is only one thing,” Locke says, “which gathers people into seditious commotions, and that is oppression.” Where the magistrate tolerates diversity of worship, subjects have no reason to revolt. Where he attempts to enforce uniformity, he creates enemies. The unity of the commonwealth does not consist in uniformity of religious opinion, but in “the common bond of civil society” — the shared commitment to the protection of life, liberty, and property under law.

Locke concludes with a vision of a society in which “the Christian commonwealth” is “most flourishing” precisely because it separates the civil and religious realms. In such a commonwealth, “the churches are as so many fraternities, which in all things are independent of the commonwealth, and have no more to do with it than with any other society.” The magistrate protects all churches equally, and each church governs its own affairs. The result is not religious chaos but civil peace, because the cause of religious war — the attempt to use the civil sword for religious ends — has been removed. The *Letter* ends with this vision of a society ordered by toleration, where every man is free to worship God according to his conscience, and where the civil government secures the peace that makes such freedom possible.