How Chester A. Arthur pushed civil service reform and challenged high protective tariffs in the 1880s

The hinge moment you hear about in late 19th-century America isn’t a single event, but a set of ideas colliding: corruption worries, big money, rising industry, and a push to fix how government jobs were handed out. In that mix, one name often comes up as a standout: Chester A. Arthur. He’s the president who championed civil service reform and questioned those high protective tariffs, two threads that shaped how the federal government would work for generations.

Who is Chester A. Arthur, anyway?

Arthur wasn’t the flashiest figure in the era’s political theater. He was a Republican from New York, quietly building a reputation in the rough-and-tumble world of Gilded Age politics. He’s sometimes remembered as the man who stood next to James A. Garfield and then stepped into the presidency after Garfield’s assassination in 1881. But the real story isn’t about how he came to power; it’s about what he did once he wore the badge of the presidency.

Let me explain: Arthur’s era was ruled by the spoils system, a way of rewarding loyalty with government jobs. It was efficient in one sense—people knew who had influence, and deals got done—but it bred corruption, inefficiency, and a revolving door of appointment and dismissal based on politics rather than merit. Arthur wasn’t born yesterday. He could see that a professional, competent civil service would produce better government and restore public trust.

The Pendleton Act: merit over patronage

The centerpiece of Arthur’s reform legacy is the Pendleton Civil Service Reform Act of 1883. Here’s the gist: government jobs would be awarded on merit, not political connections or party loyalty. The Act created the Civil Service Commission to oversee examinations and appointments, establishing a merit-based standard for many federal positions.

This wasn’t a one-and-done moment. It was a shift in how Americans imagined public service. The idea was simple on paper but transformational in practice: you hire the right people for the right jobs, then hold them to professional standards. It meant a move toward a more orderly, accountable government—less prone to the whims of who happened to be in power at the moment.

Arthur’s role isn’t always spelled out in every test-prep summary, but it’s essential to understanding the era’s political reform movements. He didn’t just sign a bill and call it a day. He used his platform to advocate for a government that could stand on the strength of its people rather than the strength of political machines. People who were good at their jobs, who studied for exams, who earned their places—these people were the backbone of a more reliable federal machine.

Tariffs: a political weather vane

Now, shift the lens to tariffs, that long-running friction in American economic policy. Tariffs are political weather vanes: do you shield domestic industry with high duties, or do you ease the way for trade, lower prices for consumers, and encourage competition? In Arthur’s time, this debate roared loudly.

Arthur is noted for questioning high protective tariffs. He could see that while tariffs protected certain industries, they also imposed costs—on consumers, on downstream industries, and on the broader economy. He understood that the country’s economic health wasn’t a one-issue puzzle; it required balancing the interests of factory owners, workers, farmers, and merchants. This wasn’t a simple “lower is better” or “keep them high” stance. It was a search for a middle ground that could sustain growth while avoiding excessive pain for segments of society.

Think of it this way: tariffs were a kind of political magnifying glass. They exposed who aligned with which economic philosophy and who believed in a government that could adapt to changing economic realities. Arthur’s stance reflected a pragmatism you don’t always see in the heated rhetoric of party platforms. He wanted a tariff policy that wouldn’t crush competition or overinflate prices, while still protecting genuine American industries that needed a nudge.

How Arthur compares to his peers

To really grasp why Arthur stands out, it helps to place him against a few contemporaries.

• Rutherford B. Hayes: Hayes also pushed civil service reform, though his influence is often described as more cautious or incremental. He set a tone and started the conversation, but Arthur carried the reform forward in a concrete, operational way with the Pendleton Act and its civil service framework.

• James A. Garfield: Garfield’s presidency was brief, but his speeches and empty promises aside, he did show support for reform measures. The tragedy of his assassination often overshadows his brief tenure, but his alignment with reform ideals foreshadowed what Arthur would finalize in the years after.

• Grover Cleveland: Cleveland is another big name in this discussion, yet his primary battleline wasn’t civil service reform at first. He came to office with a major alignment on tariff reduction, opposing high tariffs as policy. Civil service reform became a more pronounced commitment later in his political life, but, in the arc of the late 19th century, Arthur is the figure most tightly associated with driving both reform of patronage and a critical rethinking of tariffs during that period.

Why this matters beyond the shoulder pads of the Gilded Age

Arthur’s dual push—civil service reform and tariff recalibration—matters for a few reasons that still ring true today.

• Government that serves, not rewards: Civil service reform is an ongoing reminder that institutions function best when people are chosen for competence, not connection. The pendulum swings—sometimes toward merit, sometimes toward political agility—but the core question remains: who gets the work done, and how do we measure it fairly?

• Economic policy is never abstract: Tariffs aren’t just “numbers on a chart.” They shape real people’s lives—costs, jobs, wages, and the choices a business makes about what to produce. Arthur’s stance shows how leaders must balance short-term interests with long-term stability and growth.

• A nuanced view beats an easy answer: It’s tempting to frame civil service reform and tariffs as black-and-white battles. The historical record shows a more nuanced, pragmatic approach can yield durable results. Arthur didn’t simply pick a side and stick with it. He evaluated each issue in light of a broader vision for a modern, professional government.

A few practical takeaways for students of APUSH Period 6

• Remember the context: The era was defined by rapid industrialization, urbanization, and the strain these forces put on government and institutions. Civil service reform didn’t appear in a vacuum; it answered real concerns about corruption and efficiency.

• Know the Act, not just the name: The Pendleton Act is more than a date. Think about what it did: it established the merit principle, created a system of exams, and moved the federal workforce toward professional standards. That shift has echoes in how we evaluate public administration today.

• Tariffs aren’t purely economic; they’re political: The tariff question pulled in merchants, manufacturers, farmers, and laborers. Arthur’s approach—questioning high tariffs while supporting practical reforms—teaches a broader lesson about how economic policy is deeply intertwined with social and political legitimacy.

• The arc matters: The late 1800s weren’t a neat sequence of triumphs and clean reforms. They were messy, contentious, and full of compromises. Arthur’s presidency embodies that messy but crucial transition toward a government that aims to be more competent and more fair.

A final, human note about the era

If you could step into a time machine, you’d hear a lot of chatter about who deserved power and who deserved a fair shot at good government. People spoke of “character” and “fitness for office,” but they also argued about the cost of progress—whether a stronger civil service would keep the government steady or whether tariff policy would spark a cleaner, leaner economy. Arthur’s contribution sits right in the middle of those conversations, a practical bridge between reform-minded impulse and the stubborn realities of national finance.

So, when you see a multiple-choice question that asks who supported civil service reform and questioned high protective tariffs, you can picture Chester A. Arthur not as a distant name on a page, but as a person who tried to steer a nation toward a more professional, predictable government—one that treats public service as a craft and policy as a balancing act rather than a battlefield.

If you’re exploring Period 6, this is the kind of thread to pull: the idea that reform isn’t a single flash of brilliance, but a sustained, sometimes imperfect effort to improve how the republic runs. Arthur’s story is a reminder that history often rewards those who see both the urgent need for change and the practical steps needed to make it endure. And isn’t that a refreshing way to think about governance—not a dramatic overhaul, but a steady, thoughtful evolution toward something better for the common good?