Tom's law of human action
Tom's law of human action is a principle of desire and motivation that Tom Sawyer discovers while whitewashing a fence, which holds that making a thing difficult to attain is the surest way to make someone covet it. This insight, which the narrator compares to the work of a great philosopher, becomes a recurring engine of Tom's social manipulations and a key to understanding the book's critique of work, play, and social performance.
Discovery and Formulation
The law is born from a moment of inspired desperation. Faced with the punishment of whitewashing a thirty-yard, nine-foot-high fence on a Saturday morning, Tom sees his holiday vanish and his friends approaching to jeer. At this dark and hopeless moment, an inspiration bursts upon him: he takes up his brush and goes tranquilly to work, pretending the task is a privilege. When Ben Rogers arrives, personating the steamboat Big Missouri, and taunts him, Tom replies that whitewashing is not work but something that "suits Tom Sawyer," and that Aunt Polly is "awful particular about this fence" — so particular that "there ain't one boy in a thousand, maybe two thousand, that can do it the way it's got to be done." The effect is immediate: Ben stops nibbling his apple, becomes absorbed, and begs to be allowed to whitewash. Tom, with reluctance in his face but alacrity in his heart, trades the privilege for Ben's entire apple. The narrator then explicitly states the law Tom has discovered without knowing it: "in order to make a man or a boy covet a thing, it is only necessary to make the thing difficult to attain." The narrator elaborates that this principle explains why Work consists of whatever a body is obliged to do, and Play consists of whatever a body is not obliged to do — a distinction that makes rolling tenpins amusement but constructing artificial flowers work.
Application in Social Manipulation
Tom immediately applies the law to accumulate wealth. By the middle of the afternoon, he has traded the next whitewashing chances to a succession of boys — Billy Fisher for a kite, Johnny Miller for a dead rat and a string — until he is "literally rolling in wealth" with twelve marbles, a piece of blue bottle-glass, a spool cannon, a key that wouldn't unlock anything, a fragment of chalk, a glass stopper, a tin soldier, a couple of tadpoles, six fire-crackers, a kitten with only one eye, a brass door-knob, a dog-collar, the handle of a knife, four pieces of orange-peel, and a dilapidated old window sash. The fence receives three coats of whitewash, and Tom reflects that if he hadn't run out of whitewash he would have bankrupted every boy in the village. The same principle governs his later transactions: he trades a piece of licorice and a fish-hook for a yellow Sunday-school ticket, and white alleys for red and blue tickets, eventually amassing enough to claim a Bible as a prize. The law also underlies his manipulation of Becky Thatcher's attention: after returning from Jackson's Island, he feigns indifference, talking to Amy Lawrence instead, which drives Becky to jealousy and a desperate attempt to regain his notice.
The Law as a Critique of Social Performance
The law of human action is not merely a child's trick; it is a lens through which the book examines the artificiality of social value. The narrator explicitly connects it to the behavior of wealthy English gentlemen who drive four-horse passenger-coaches for the privilege of paying for the service, but would resign if offered wages — because the same activity becomes work when it is obligatory. This insight recurs throughout the novel. At Sunday-school, the entire congregation — the superintendent, the librarian, the young lady teachers, the young gentlemen teachers, and even the great Judge Thatcher — engages in "showing off," a performance of authority and virtue that is valuable precisely because it is not required. Tom himself, after his return from the pirate adventure, becomes a "glittering hero" and moves with a "dignified swagger," aware that the public eye is on him; smaller boys flock at his heels, and he is consumed with envy by his peers. The law explains why the Cadets of Temperance's regalia attracts Tom, and why, once he resigns and is free to drink and swear, the desire vanishes: "The simple fact that he could, took the desire away, and the charm of it." Even the Examination Day disaster, where Tom breaks down in the middle of his "Give me liberty or give me death" speech, illustrates the law's inverse: the performance that is required and expected becomes a source of terror, not glory.
The Law's Limits and Ironies
The law is not absolute; it operates within a framework of genuine human connection and moral obligation. Tom's manipulation of the whitewashing works because the boys are already predisposed to envy and desire, but it fails to account for the deeper bonds of love and loyalty. When Tom later tries to use the same principle to win back Becky after their quarrel, his pride and indifference only deepen the rift, and he ends up miserable. Similarly, the law's power is undercut by the genuine gratitude and affection that Muff Potter shows Tom and Huckleberry Finn for their small kindnesses — gifts of tobacco and matches — which smite their consciences and make them feel "cowardly and treacherous." The law of human action, then, is a tool of social performance and manipulation, but it is not the whole truth about human motivation. The book's deepest moments — Tom's decision to take Becky's whipping, his testimony at the trial, his return to the cave to rescue her — are acts of courage and love that cannot be explained by the law of making things difficult to attain. The law is a brilliant insight into the mechanics of desire, but it is ultimately a child's discovery, and the story moves beyond it toward a more complex understanding of what makes life meaningful.