Frum is a committed partisan, which I don't intend as an insult. Since leaving the Bush administration, he has offered intelligent critiques of the GOP, many of which would improve that party if more Republicans earnestly grappled with them. But Washington, D.C., insiders who've dedicated themselves to improving America through the mediating institution of one political party are often blind to different approaches. A substantive policy victory that does nothing to boost movement libertarianism, or the Libertarian Party, or a particular libertarian politician, or libertarianism's place within the Republican Party, may not seem like a "libertarian moment" or "libertarian victory" to an institutionalist like Frum. He may find libertarianism important only insofar as it affects the Republican Party.
Yet many who think of themselves as libertarians (or who are friendly to many but not all libertarian goals, like me) don't particularly care who is ascendant in Washington, or what party affiliation appears beside the name of a legislator. If fewer people are caged for inhaling the smoke of a plant, that's a libertarian victory. If fewer people's doors are kicked in late at night by police officers dressed in combat fatigues, that's a libertarian victory. If more cancer patients can legally obtain a substance that alleviates their suffering, that's a libertarian victory. If fewer assets are seized by police without proof of guilt, that's a libertarian victory. (Were I to embrace the rhetorical tactics of Paul Krugman, I might point to the war on drugs and ask, "Is non-libertarain domestic policy at all realistic?")
There are, I hasten to add, intense disagreements among libertarians about which future victories are most important. In Frum's article, he writes that "young voters are more likely than their elders to believe that government should intervene in the economy to create jobs. They support government aid to education and healthcare more than any other age group. Their voting behavior tracks their values: Under-30s massively voted for Barack Obama in 2008 and 2012."
He is right, of course, that young people are at odds with libertarians on various issues of importance to both groups. But America could be a much more libertarian country than it is even with more federal education and healthcare aid. The United States could be as libertarian as Milton Friedman and Friedrich Hayek and still embrace a social safety net that involved coercive transfers to poor people. Efforts to provide equality of opportunity and a safety net do require the redistribution of wealth—but we're a society with wealth beyond the wildest dreams of even elderly Americans still alive today, and apart from the coercion inherent in any taxes, there are ways to deliver both of those goods without reducing liberty, which is why more libertarians ought to make peace with them.
Frum sees the fact that under-30s voted for Obama in 2008 as evidence that they weren't at all libertarian. But based on the promises made in that election, I'd argue that libertarians who supported Obama over McCain (as I did) acted perfectly reasonably, because I believe that a penchant for launching wars of choice, support for indefinite detention without trial, and an expansive view of executive power are far more ruinous to liberty than, say, favoring Clinton-era rather than Bush-era tax rates. There are libertarians who'd kick me out of the Free State for such beliefs. (And fair enough. I'm a classical liberal who is happy to stay in California.) Other libertarians would eagerly endorse a guaranteed basic income for every American if it could be severed once and for all from the coercive, metastasizing welfare state. They understand that the Iraq War cost far more in blood and treasure than any policy antiwar Democrats could've passed. A commitment to liberty and freedom precludes loyalty to either political party. Both perpetrate awful abuses. The GOP provides no real home for libertarians, who should engage with the two-party system opportunistically.
The United States is a big, sprawling, complicated nation that faces an array of complex policy challenges. Doctrinaire libertarians don't have all the answers any more than any other ideological faction. Insofar as they have an advantage over their more mainstream competitors, it springs from the law of diminishing returns: We've long since tried the most popular conservative and progressive ideas.
Opponents of libertarianism, like Frum, try to ensure that libertarians will never come to power in part through legitimate critiques, but also by portraying centrist, libertarian-leaning Republicans as if they're radical extremists, even on policies where they're actually taking brave stances in opposition to the extremism of Republicans and Democrats. This is illustrated most clearly in the passage Frum writes about Senator Rand Paul, a Kentucky Republican with mild libertarian sympathies, and the filibuster he launched on the subject of drone strikes.
The filibuster was a response to President Obama's radical, unprecedented claim that he is empowered to order, in secret, the extrajudicial assassination of an American citizen, without due process, even far from any battlefield or combat situation. Alarm at this extreme assertion of executive power was hardly a fringe position. Centrist newspapers editorialized against it. Numerous members of Congress expressed their displeasure, along with civil-liberties organizations on the left and the right. But you wouldn't know that from Frum's distillation of the controversy:
Whereas ordinary conservatism emphasizes the inefficiency and ineffectiveness of government action, libertarianism presents government as alien and malign. When Rand Paul rose early in 2013 to deliver the longest talking filibuster since Strom Thurmond battled civil rights in 1957, he did so not to oppose some new bureaucracy or tax. No, Paul rose to denounce the supposedly looming danger of lethal drone attacks on ordinary law-abiding Americans. “I will speak today until the President responds and says no, we won't kill Americans in cafes; no, we won't kill you at home in your bed at night; no, we won't drop bombs on restaurants,” he said. Repeatedly, Paul insisted that he was not accusing President Obama of plotting the murder of American citizens. Equally repeatedly, however, he made clear that he considered the danger of presidential murder of people like himself real and imminent.
In fact, Paul never once claimed that the murder of people like himself was "imminent." What struck Paul—what ought to have struck us all—is that the Obama administration was so determined to maximize its discretion that it would not, up to that point, disavow the idea that it would strike an American citizen on U.S. soil. Paul was amazed that the White House wouldn't commit to so basic a limiting principle as that. Senator Ron Wyden, a progressive Democrat from Oregon, had the same question. "I’ve asked you how much evidence the president needs to decide that a particular American can be lawfully killed and whether the administration believes that the president can use this authority inside the United States,” he said to CIA Director John Brennan. ”What do you think needs to be done to ensure that members of the public understand more about when the government thinks it’s allowed to kill them, particularly with respect to those two issues: the question of evidence and the authority to use this power within the United States?”