A problem confronting some libertarians is the seeming paradox of the Non-Aggression Principle and the desire to take action against our ever-growing tyranny. It is true that the Non-Aggression Principle (NAP) acts as a limit on our actions--else, what would differentiate us from the thugs we despise? The NAP is, if only for this reason, a very good thing. However, the NAP does not prevent all possible actions against the State. Please note that the intent of this essay is not to suggest any particular course of action, but merely to explore some of the ethical ramifications of certain possible situations.

Certainly it is not moral to use another's property without his consent. An example of this would be burglary or trespass. Nor is it moral to use your property in such a way as to injure others or their property--it isn't right to run someone over, even if you own the car. However, other actions, while possibly disagreeable, are perfectly moral. I could purchase a piece of rare art and set fire to it if I so desired. Similarly, there is nothing that is unethical about my act of taking all of my possessions and destroying them. It may be considered distasteful, but after all, they are mine to do with as I see fit.

But what about property that is not claimed by anyone? Suppose that I happen upon a desert island, and take a seashell from the beach. Is this theft? Assuming the island is unclaimed property, of course it isn't. The seashell became mine when I took possession of it. If I discard the shell on the same beach, I am revoking my claim to it. I cannot later try to enforce property rights on it, since it was effectively abandoned. If two of us are racing each other for the shell, the prize goes to the swiftest. What other claim can there be upon unowned property except possession?

If I hike into the wilderness, and make a campsite there, it may be said that I own it. But what happens when I leave? If I make a camp for a week, and leave for a whole year, can I still claim ownership of that land? What if someone comes along after me, and builds a house there? Who has the better claim? If I temporarily inhabit, and then abandon, property that is unowned, I can not later claim to own it.

Now, with this background, let us look at the status of the property of the State. Who or what is the State? I can't point to it--it has no board of directors, no shareholders, no place of business. It, or they, is not an individual, or a business, or even a definable organization. Yet, edicts are issued by it every day. So, on what authority does the State rest? Lysander Spooner's answer to this question was thus: "The most they can say, in answer to this question, is, that some half, two-thirds, or three-fourths, of the male adults of the country have a tacit understanding that they will maintain a government under the Constitution; that they will select, by ballot, the persons to administer it; and that those persons who may receive a majority, or a plurality, of their ballots, shall act as their representatives, and administer the Constitution in their name, and by their authority."

In other words, a secret group of men (and women, nowadays) have an informal, secret agreement to maintain the State. Again, who are these people? I cannot claim that an informal, secret association of men, made up of people who are unknown even to each other and who are unable to produce any connection to this secret association, owns anything. I cannot even prove that such an association exists. The idea is ludicrous on its face. Thus, we cannot but conclude that any property that is claimed by the "State" is in fact unclaimed, unowned property.

Who owns the local IRS office? A group of men inhabit it at certain hours, and some entity pays the utility bills, but who actually owns it? Can I claim permanent ownership to a wilderness campsite that I inhabit one week out of the year? If I were to happen upon someone else camping there, could I toss them out as a trespasser? What could I possibly base my claim of ownership on? There is no moral difference between an unclaimed, unowned office building and an unclaimed, unowned campsite. The only difference is in location.

How about those black and white government cars, with the red and blue lights on top? Who owns them? Some select group of men drive them on occasion, but the drivers themselves make no claim of ownership on the cars. The cars belong to no one. Who does a random seashell on an unowned beach belong to? Whoever is using it at the time. Again, there is no moral or ethical difference between an abandoned, unowned seashell and an abandoned, unowned car.

We can use our property as we see fit, and we can establish ownership of unclaimed property by using it. Our use does not have to be productive--I can pick up and smash a discarded bottle, if I wish, since my act of picking it up makes it mine. Around us every day, sits unused, unclaimed property, property that is said to be owned by the State. But since the State cannot be said to truly exist, these unclaimed items are the property of whoever is currently using them. Police cars? The government agents who are driving them are the owners, until they park them for the night. They then become abandoned, only to be reclaimed temporarily the next day. No one owns them--they are like driftwood. Government buildings? Again, they are unowned, unclaimed, and only inhabited temporarily. Like a wilderness campsite, they are for the use of anyone who happens along. Unclaimed property is just that--unclaimed.

Do you feel guilty about making a campfire with abandoned, unclaimed branches? Do you feel that this is somehow vandalism or theft? What is the difference between making a campfire with unowned branches, and using any unclaimed property as you see fit? Is there a moral or ethical difference between picking berries in the wilderness, and salvaging computers from unowned buildings?

Almost daily, the amount of unowned property, claimed only by an imaginary entity, increases around us. Why not make use of it?