Justin Amash, former Libertarian congressman from Michigan, tweeted the following yesterday:
It’s a good sentiment. It’s a positive sentiment. It’s something I’d imagine a lot of people could get behind. To a decent extent, it’s what libertarianism is about, or at least the classical kind of libertarianism—the textbook kind.
But it’s not necessarily what Libertarianism is about, and it’s certainly not what everyone thinks of when they think of libertarianism. For many, libertarianism is represented by heavily-armed, Gadsden flag-waving provocateurs like those seen at the Michigan state capitol last spring and in similar “Tea Party” demonstrations over the last decade.
I’m not sure those at the Michigan state capitol last spring would have called themselves libertarians. Or Libertarians. I’m not sure what a “Tea Party” supporter would call themselves today—what threads unified that movement either disintegrated or changed, traded out for stronger binds, even if those binds necessitated cutting many of the originals. I’m not sure what libertarian, or libertarianism, or Libertarian means.
We’ve seen this happen with the word “conservative.” “Conservative” ostensibly describes someone whose political inclinations are to be hesitant on change, especially for the sake of change. It ostensibly describes someone who advocates for restraint, which in America, for a while, made it describe proponents of limited government, of strength overseas, of free enterprise, of traditional social mores. Agree or disagree with those planks, that was, for a time, the “conservative” platform in America. It isn’t anymore. “Conservative” no longer describes a set of beliefs. Instead, it describes a loyalty to one political party, at least in the most mainstream use of the word. Many are trying to preserve the old definition. They are, at the moment, failing.
That’s the battle Justin Amash and his cohorts—people trying to grow the Libertarian Party into a mainstream political force, “socially liberal and economically conservative”—will have to fight. They’ll have to figure out the definition of their own name. They’ll then have a much harder battle—getting others to accept that definition. Will “libertarian” mean “weed-smoking white guys,” as it was characterized in a recent headline? Will “libertarian” mean “assault-rifle toting militiamen,” as seemed to be the case in coverage of events last spring? Or will “libertarian” mean what Amash would have it mean—a description of one whose political beliefs are about allowing individuals to live their lives freely and peacefully? It’s semantic. It’s also urgent—urgent for those of us who consider ourselves, at the very least, something of moderate libertarians. Because the definition that wins the battle will play a large role in defining the future of libertarianism, and Libertarianism, in America.
