The power of ‘no’
In 2008, Jim Carrey starred in a movie called Yes Man. The story revolves around a man who chronically refuses to participate in the events of his own life. People will invite him out to various functions, and he always declines. After a while, people give up on him. Then a friend convinces him to attend a seminar, at which the leader challenges him to say “yes” to every opportunity that comes his way. He does, and the usual Carrey-esque humor ensues.
While it’s usually fine to accept invitations and take advantage of opportunities, taking it to the extreme can have dire consequences. Saying “yes” indiscriminately can lead to burnout, resentment, missed opportunities, and even a risk to health.
Dan Bongino once presented another perspective. On a few occasions, back when he was producing a daily podcast, he commented that, politically, there is no power in saying “yes.” He opined that politicians and bureaucrats may wield the word “no” as a tool to consolidate power and restrict individual freedoms. They will cloak their actions in the guise of public interest or administrative necessity, which reinforces their authority and limits citizen autonomy.
There is a middle ground. Referring to the military, author Robert A. Heinlein once wrote, “Paymasters come in only two sizes: One sort shows you where the book says that you can’t have what you’ve got coming to you; the second sort digs through the book until he finds a paragraph that lets you have what you need even if you don’t rate it.”
“No” is an integral part of restrictive legislation and regulations. Politicians will pass laws that prohibit specific behaviors or activities — for example, bans on certain business practices or personal choices — and these are often justified as protecting society. There is some value in that. There are cases where do-it-yourself electrical repairs have caused house fires, or homemade decks collapsed, which severely injured party-goers. Building codes save lives.
On the other hand, vague “public safety” laws can criminalize harmless actions, giving authorities overly broad discretion to enforce them inappropriately. This creates a chilling effect, where citizens self-censor or avoid innovation to avoid legal trouble, effectively shrinking their freedom. A law is unconstitutionally vague when people “of common intelligence must necessarily guess at its meaning.” For example, the Supreme Court overturned a California loitering law that required persons who wander or loiter on the streets to provide “credible and reliable” identification. The Court ruled that “the void-for-vagueness doctrine requires that a penal statute define the criminal offense with sufficient definiteness that ordinary people can understand what conduct is prohibited and in a manner that does not encourage arbitrary and discriminatory treatment.”
Unscrupulous bureaucrats may also employ administrative denials. They can reject permits, delay licensing, or arbitrarily enforce rules, saying “no” to citizens’ plans to start a business, build a home, or organize a community event. When these denials lack transparency, they leave individuals at the mercy of an opaque process.
Saying “no” without clear justification fosters dependency on bureaucratic goodwill and weakens personal initiative. For instance, a Homeowners’ Association might block personal property improvements, citing vague “community character” concerns, thus forcing citizens to navigate costly, time-consuming appeals.
Politicians may use their positions to impose their agendas on local communities. The Biden administration encountered pushback when it announced a plan to remove a statue of William Penn from a historical site in Pennsylvania. Selective refusal and enforcement coerces compliance, as citizens or local governments must conform to secure resources.
Similarly, bureaucrats can withhold approvals or grants to maintain leverage and even use eminent domain laws to ensure their influence over decision-making. There is a developing situation in Cranbury, N.J. where the government is using eminent domain laws to justify seizing a farm in order to construct low-income housing. The farm in question has been held by the same family for over 175 years. This case is similar to that of Kelo v. City of New London.
The word “no” also controls access to information. Freedom of Information Act (FOIA) requests, for instance, are sometimes met with blanket denials or heavily redacted documents. This is justified by “national security” or “privacy.” The Crossfire Hurricane documents remain blacked out even years after President Trump issued a declassification order. This opacity shields misconduct and limits accountability.
For petty functionaries, “no” is an easy way to assert dominance. Requiring little to no justification, it forces compliance or expensive challenges. Simply by saying “no,” officials can delay or derail citizen initiatives without risking their own position, as challenging these decisions often requires legal and financial resources most individuals lack. This dynamic fosters power imbalances, as the government holds the final say.
Ultimately, the frequent, often arbitrary use of “no” erodes trust in governance. It signals that the individual is subordinate to state control. This discourages civic engagement and innovation. Some restrictions are, of course necessary. However, the cynical, default deployment of “no” prioritizes power over liberty, thus leaving citizens navigating a maze of prohibitions designed to keep them in check.
