The cliché that “there ought to be a law” seems as old as time itself, but the full implications of the statement are rarely understood.

Demands for a new law, passed and enforced by the government, to fix some perceived wrong are no longer a joke, but instead taken for granted in modern political life. Whenever someone has a complaint about environmental pollution, television entertainment, corrupt politicians, the rich getting richer and the poor getting poorer, violence in the schools, drugs on the streets, or simply kids these days, it is more common than not to hear a call for the government to move in, pass new laws, and do something — anything — to address the problem.

Unfortunately, few people seem to realize what a new law, enforced by the state, boils down to: force. The state is simply, as Gandhi put it, “organized and concentrated violence”; it is not eloquence nor reason, but force.

Every new law is carried out by government police or agents, who put alleged violators in jail or fine them. Those who resist arrest and prosecution are tamed by force. Those who resist enough are shot. Ultimately, all government power flows from the barrel of a gun, as Mao happily observed.

So when a person calls for a new law to deal with polluters, prostitutes, pimps, or predatory capitalists, what he is calling for is more force — more state violence — as a remedy to a perceived social problem. To want more laws is to want more institutionalized coercion. Saying “there ought to be a law” is saying that someone whose actions you disagree with should have a gun pointed at him and be threatened with bodily harm if he doesn’t do what you’d prefer.

This is not an exaggeration, but the simple truth. A law against smoking in bars means that bar owners who would like to allow smoking on their private property are prevented from allowing it, under threat of force. A law against gambling means that those who wish to risk their money in a game of chance are prevented from doing so, lest they be physically compelled into obedience. A mandatory recycling law means that those who don’t recycle according to the law are held at gunpoint if they refuse to comply.

In practice, state violence is a sloppy way of achieving social goals. The power over such violence is corrupting to those who wield it, destructive to the social fabric, and divisive of society. Asking for more laws is a concession to the primal law of the jungle, where might makes right and brutality — rather than cooperation, persuasion, and voluntary human initiative — reigns supreme.

The irony is that few people would actually admit they want more force in society, that they think the real problem in the world is not enough violence among people, or that they have faith in the benevolent power of coercion to organize society in the way in should be.

But that is exactly what a belief in big, expansive government is, once stripped of its subterfuge and mythology. Taxation is forced wealth extraction. Conscription is forced labor. Regulation is forcing people to act in a politically correct way. War is violence on a ghastly scale.

Yes, certain violent criminals must be dealt with or protected against with force and threats of violence, but it is fascinating just how much more governmental force people seem to want. Government is gigantic, and all of it is tainted by force against taxpayers, lawbreakers and foreigners at wartime. Most victims of government force are peaceful, innocent people.

Government is force, and it is dangerous. Next time you notice a problem in society, reflect first on possible ways it could be remedied by voluntary means, by community effort, by charity, or by the marketplace. To think “there ought to be a law” makes sense for the sake of new jobs for politicians and bureaucrats, but systematic violence should be the last resort in a civilized culture.

Anthony Gregory is a writer and musician living in Berkeley, California. He is a research analyst at the Independent Institute, and a policy advisor for The Future of Freedom Foundation.