TWO LIBERTARIANISMS

IT’S ROCKY TIMES for the conservative-libertarian partnership that characterized American right-of-center politics in the second half of the 20th century.

Considerable attention has recently been paid to the rise of post-liberalism: the right-wing populists, nationalists, and Catholic integralists who fully embrace muscular government as a force for good as they define it. But there’s little evidence as yet that most conservatives share such an affinity for big government. The simpler explanation is more banal: Often, when conservatives reject libertarianism, it’s because of the cultural associations the word has for them.

Conservatives, after all, are much more likely than other ideological demographics to believe in God and say faith is an important part of their lives; to feel unapologetically proud of American greatness; and generally to hold views regarding personal morality that might be described as socially conserva tive. Of course they would be reluctant to throw in with a group famed in large part for its licentiousness, hostility to religion, and paucity of patriotic zeal.

But what if those associations are mistaken? If libertarianism properly understood has no cultural commitments, shouldn’t that open up room to parley? Such a hope seems to have animated Murray Rothbard when he wrote in 1981 that “libertarianism is strictly a political philosophy, confined to what the use of violence should be in social life.” As such, he added, it “is not equipped” to take one position or another on personal morality or virtue.

How convenient it would be—for this Catholic libertarian as much as anyone—if that were the end of that. But the principle, the thing for which government exists, or is it a philosophical north star by which to direct aspects of our lives? Let us call the two groups “political libertarians” and “comprehensive libertarians.”