Individuality is a concept crucial to liberty. The understanding that each of us is an individual is necessary if we are to keep our freedom and use it wisely. Individuality is, therefore, the main concept that tyrants want us to forget. Tyranny makes war on the individual. That means that it makes war on each and every one of us.
I hear a lot of talk, in libertarian circles, about “isms” and “ists.” It seems that these days, everyone has to adhere to an “ism,” be some sort of an “ist” or at least march under a banner that makes a bold statement. Am I a paleolibertarian, an anarchocapitalist, an Objectivist, a Rothbardian, or a Gold Coinage Free Spiritarian? (I made that last one up, but it sounds grand.) When I tell people that I consider myself a just plain libertarian, they tend to sigh as if to say, “How boring!”
It’s disheartening to me to hear my fellow liberty-lovers label themselves like that. I like to think that only statists think that way. But to most people of any political stripe, it seems inadequate simply to be themselves. It’s as if they’re little kids, trying on different superhero costumes at the department store. Which color cape, tights, and boots do they want to wear? What sort of special superpowers do they aspire to possess?
Tyranny makes war on the individual. That means that it makes war on each and every one of us.
I have reached that settled point in middle age where my main concern is how I believe I should live. How can I be the best individual human being I’m capable of being, based on my own priorities in life? Flashy capes and go-go boots do nothing for me (as probably everyone who could visualize me in them would agree). Living my own, ordinary, non-superheroic life is pretty much a full-time job.
Perhaps our society’s fascination with superheroes springs from the notion that we, ourselves, as individuals, are woefully insignificant. To many people, minding their own business and living their individual lives as best they can is simply boring. Being masters of themselves and wielding power in their own lives doesn’t strike them as enough.
But the truth of the matter is, that’s all we’ve got. Each of us can do, in our lives, only whatever it is given us to do. If our liberty to live as we see fit is not impeded, and we accomplish this, then at the end of our lives we can be satisfied that we’ve reached our full potential. It could very well be that the reason big government and political power have become so important in our society is that few of us understand that.
Our society’s fascination with superheroes may spring from the notion that we, ourselves, as individuals, are woefully insignificant.
Many people feel the burning need to tell others how to live. They aren’t content unless they’re wielding power over as many other people as possible. Because they don’t see themselves as enough, they feel they must join some entity larger than themselves, wear a fancy label, and function as components of a collective endeavor. Planning their own lives is not nearly as exciting as planning everyone else’s.
We wear labels in order to influence other people. To mind our own business, we need no label. A life of quiet integrity leads by example. Few of us ever learn that this is the deepest and most profound influence any human being can ever wield.
It’s possible, of course, that those of us who are libertarians would win more converts if we donned colorful costumes with tights and capes. Instead of “The Justice League,” we could call ourselves “The Liberty League.” Ours would need to be more effective than the old American Liberty League of the 1930s. After all, we wouldn’t want to be one-picture wonders. To endure, we must have an entire franchise.
If Hollywood did make movies about us, liberty would become — as the kids say — a thing. But under those conditions, my own wish would be to possess Wonder Woman’s Lasso of Truth. I could stride into D.C. brandishing that magical weapon and drive every politician and ideologist, of whatever kind, out of town. I can imagine no service I might perform for my country that would be more superheroic.
fascist league
Lori Heine has left us. Suddenly and shockingly.
Seeing this essay again, I am saddened at what could have been.
Lori was a disciplined and very skilled writer.
Her only book, “Good Clowns,” would not have remained only if she were still here.
She was a serious and busy writer, and a sequel and many other works would have followed … if only she had been given the chance.
R.I.P., dear Lori. There are lots of us who miss you, even after all this time.