In my first campaign two years ago, during one midsummer campaign debate, the moderator asked me to begin with a short summary of libertarianism before moving on to the hot topics of the day. Somewhat facetiously, I asked my listeners to raise their hands if I was the first libertarian they had ever seen in the flesh. About half did so. From that point on, I understood that my job wasn't really to make people vote for me; it was to make people vote for liberty.
As the 2012 campaign begins, it feels like I am already far ahead of where I began two years ago. Libertarianism has become familiar to many more voters. Ron Paul's very libertarian campaign for the Republican presidential nomination has been a golden opportunity to spread libertarian ideas to a much wider audience. Libertarian voices are also somewhat better represented in the media, thanks to television personalities like Judge Andrew Napolitano and John Stossel, as well as best-selling authors like Matt Welch and Nick Gillespie. The Libertarian Party is growing bigger and stronger nearly everywhere, and candidates in all parties seem much more eager to embrace libertarian language, if not always libertarian principles.
And yet the view from 2012 is far from rosy. Our political culture remains dominated by men and women who are addicted to coercion. The last two years have brought more war (undeclared by Congress, of course), more regulation, more public debt, and further erosion of our civil liberties. Instead of contenting themselves with attention to genuinely public problems (like, say, the Congress's inability to pay its bills, or the President's unwillingness to abide by the Constitution), the vast majority of our elected officials compete with one another to propose more and more coercive interference with private behavior. Who has time to pass a budget when there's such a pressing need to ban incandescent light bulbs? There is much work still to be done in making the case for liberty.
I was a first-time candidate in 2010, and I learned some surprising things. I learned that running for Congress can be extremely embarrassing, particularly for those of us who hold Congress in the lowest possible regard right now. I learned that answering voters' questions with answers that are short, complete, articulate, and persuasive is harder than it looks. I learned that the relentless gerrymandering in which both major parties engage has corrupted the electoral process much more than I had suspected.
But the most important thing I learned is this: Campaigns are just as important as elections. Public discussion of political issues has independent value, no matter who wins.
This is not to deny that it matters who wins; it matters a great deal. But if (as I believe) the winner of any given election usually reflects the voters' own attitudes back at them, then in the long run the health of the republic requires politicians who care more about articulating their principles than about winning an election. It is almost always from some once-small minority that majorities learn how to govern better.
Historically, this has been the mission of minor-party candidates like Libertarians. Certainly we hope to see Libertarians elected to office in far greater numbers than they are today. But that day will not come all at once, no matter how slick our campaign ads, how generous our donors, or how telegenic our candidates. We first need to change minds, to reawaken among ordinary citizens a real appreciation not just for the burdens of government, but for "the blessings of liberty." If we succeed in that task, the elections will take care of themselves. In that sense, winning is the goal of our efforts, but not the point.
If we want to get our country back on the right track, we need to renew and sustain a strong political consensus that consistently favors personal liberty over government power, regardless of whether we're talking about entitlement spending, economic regulations, civil liberties, or foreign policy.
If you think that renewing and sustaining a strong political consensus sounds harder than winning an election--well, that's the way it sounds to me too. For my part, it means that I can't just cobble together a few positions that poll well and call it a day, as establishment candidates do. I also need to persuade voters who don't already agree with me about the overall soundness of a small-government worldview. I need to persuade voters--in Maryland, mostly Democratic voters--that we can have a much brighter future if we cut our government down to size and dispense once and for all with the illusion that government is capable of giving us everything we want.
My campaign essays are an attempt to do just that: to reach out to voters who are frankly skeptical of Libertarian arguments (or in some cases, the caricatures of those arguments) and make the case for personal liberty as forcefully as I can. I will try at all times to carry on the debate with civility, and I hope anyone who carries these discussions further will do the same. (For a six-point summary of what I think civility in political debate requires, check out the Comment Guidelines.)
But you, dear reader, must do your part as well. It is not enough for you to read my essays, not enough even to reward me with your vote. You also need to help spread our message to your friends and neighbors. Encourage them to read the essays you find convincing. Mention the Libertarian alternative in your political discussions. Join some of the social networks from where Libertarian news and commentary circulate, and invite your friends to do the same. Write letters to the editor of your favorite paper. Get involved. Together, "less we can."