Ben Franklin’s Silence That Helped Spark a Revolution

Ben Franklin knew symbolism. On January 29, 1774, a world-shaking political event occurred – a tectonic plate shift in global politics. A peacemaker became a revolutionary – in total silence.

Ben Franklin was brilliant. Much of his brilliance related to hard work. He wrote, worked, studied, and constantly strived to improve himself and the lot of mankind. He invented and discovered, from lightning rods and the Gulf Stream to the Post Office, musical instruments, and firehouses.

His greatest achievements are often tied back to the Constitutional Convention. He edited the Declaration for Jefferson, later observed the Founders had created “a republic, if you can keep it.”  His scientific curiosity, including discovering electricity with a kite and key, is legendary.

But on the day mentioned above, he was silent – completely silent. In that silence, a huge event occurred. They call it the “cockpit incident.” To me, the event has two meanings, both important.

In short, Franklin – living in London – had been striving mightily to prevent what we all now know as the Revolutionary War. Remember, this was 1774, not 1776. In his mind, there was still hope for reconciliation. He offered ways that the British could turn down the temperature and bring peace.

Two years earlier, in 1772, Franklin was given some letters written by a royal governor, not by his own son – then royal governor of New Jersey – but Thomas Hutchinson of Massachusetts. The letters were damning. The royal governor proposed a military crackdown on Boston by the British.

Franklin did not see the British Parliament or King as fomenting this crackdown, but rather saw local officials trying to get the Crown to crack down for them, reinforcing their local power. So Franklin decided to send the letters – which had been delivered to London – back to the Colonies.

His goal was to show that – rather than King George pushing war – local British officials were trying to stir trouble. He asked that they not be published. Contrary to his wishes, they were published.

Now comes the “cockpit incident.” When news arrived back in London that these letters – delicate for certain – had been handed off to Franklin by someone in London, sent back to the Colonies, and published, the British elites were irate.

On that memorable day in January 1774, the King’s “Privy Council” demanded Franklin, already a respected diplomat, inventor, scientist, and philosopher, come before the Council, in a room called the “cockpit.” There, he faced the British Solicitor-General, much like our Attorney General.

Franklin thought the occasion would allow him to present the facts, explain his intentions, reinforce his interest in architecting, perhaps even mediating, a way to avoid war. Walking into the “cockpit,” he considered himself a subject of the Crown, a British citizen who hailed from The Colonies.

What happened next is epic, and may be at the root of much – if not everything – that followed. The Solicitor-General had filled the room with British elites, and proceeded for one hour to shout, shame, castigate, mock, deride and humiliate Franklin, calling him a traitor, spy, thief, and worse.

Throughout this lambasting, Franklin did not move, but stood directly before the Solicitor-General. Franklin showed no emotion before the Privy Council. The room exploded with ridicule, insults, laughter, and vile behavior. Franklin – who had entered loyal to the Crown – did not move or speak.

When the incident concluded, he spoke not at all. He withdrew himself silently. From that incident forward, Franklin the longtime peacemaker – who had respected the Crown – was a Revolutionary. He considered war inevitable, a war that would alienate him from England and his loyalist son.

The impact of that event cannot be overstated. Franklin would become the wise man of war counsels in Philadelphia, would broker deals in France that underwrote the entire war, would over time become one of the ablest, most persistent, and resourceful anti-British diplomats in history.

So, lesson one: Enemies made through senseless, inapt, wrongful accusing of otherwise humble, good, purposeful, and hopeful people are hard to undo; the wound was deep and lasting.

Lesson two may, however, be even more powerful. The dignity with which Franklin held himself in this “cockpit incident” – the silent tolerance of abuse before an unethical, self-righteous accuser – has come down through history as a testament to Franklin’s character and resolve.

In the end, Franklin’s commitment to a free America was forged there, in silence. Standing in his old brown velvet suit, he took abuse. He took it in silence. Fittingly, when he signed our military alliance with France four years later, he wore the same brown suit.  Ben Franklin knew symbolism.