Things in our country run in spite of government, not by aid of

"Things in our country run in spite of government, not by aid of it." — Will Rogers

Hear now the words of Will Rogers, a man of laughter and truth, whose humor struck like lightning—bright, sudden, and full of wisdom. Beneath his jest, there burned a quiet fire of insight into the nature of men and nations. When he said that “things in our country run in spite of government, not by aid of it,” he was not mocking order, nor scorning law. He was revealing a paradox of freedom: that the strength of a nation does not lie in the hand that governs, but in the spirit of the people who labor, create, and endure. Governments may stumble, argue, and delay—but life goes on because the hearts of men refuse to stop beating.

Rogers spoke as a son of America, a witness to its struggles and triumphs in the early twentieth century—a time when bureaucracy grew fat, and the machinery of politics seemed to creak and falter. He saw farmers enduring drought, families surviving the Great Depression, inventors building wonders from scraps, and neighbors helping neighbors when the state could not. To him, the miracle of the land was not that it was well-governed, but that it was self-governing—that the people’s will, enterprise, and goodness kept the nation alive, often in spite of the tangled feet of politics that sought to lead them.

Consider, my friends, the pioneers who crossed the plains long before government roads or protections were laid down. It was not officials who guided their wagons through storm and dust, but courage. It was not decrees that built towns from wilderness, but the sweat of the common man and woman. Later, when crises struck—wars, recessions, disasters—it was not the slow-moving hand of government that first responded, but the swift mercy of ordinary souls. When the floods came to the Mississippi, it was neighbors who saved neighbors, long before orders or funding arrived. Human decency has always outrun the machinery of power.

In his time, Will Rogers jested that if you wanted nothing done, you should form a committee—and though he spoke in laughter, his message was solemn: that institutions grow heavy and forget the nimbleness of the human heart. A government, though born of noble intent, becomes easily tangled in its own rules. It measures, debates, delays—while life demands action. Thus, the farmer plants, the merchant sells, the teacher teaches, and the healer tends the wounded, while the officials deliberate. The world moves, not because of them, but around them.

Yet Rogers was no anarchist, no enemy of order. He understood that the purpose of government is not to control, but to serve—to clear the path, not walk it for the people. When he said that life runs “in spite of government,” he meant that freedom is resilient, that the will of the people cannot be smothered by inefficiency or corruption. The roots of a great nation lie deeper than politics; they lie in character, in conscience, in the daily toil of citizens who rise each morning to do their work without waiting for permission or reward.

Look to the example of the American farmer during the Dust Bowl of the 1930s. The land was dying, the skies turned black with dust, and the promises of Washington were slow to come. Yet the farmers endured. They moved, adapted, planted again. Communities banded together, shared food, rebuilt homes, and cared for the sick. The government did not save them—it was their courage, their endurance, that pulled them through. And in their struggle, the spirit of the nation proved stronger than its policies.

The lesson is clear, O children of freedom: never place your hope in institutions alone. The soul of a people must always be greater than the laws that bind them. Respect your leaders, but do not wait for them. Work, build, and dream as though the future depends not on decrees, but on your hands—and in truth, it does. A wise nation is not carried by its government; it carries its government, sustaining it through the strength of its citizens.

Therefore, live as builders, not dependents. Let your goodness be self-born, your labor self-driven, your compassion self-taught. Let the government aid where it can—but let not its aid replace your own will. For when a people forget how to act without orders, they cease to be free. But when they thrive in spite of, they rise above—and in that rising, they prove that liberty is not granted by governments, but guarded by souls.