The Opposite of a Libertarian
In the traditional Left-Right political spectrum, the political Left is associated with higher taxes, tighter economic regulations, and generally more expansive state powers. The Right, by contrast, is associated with deregulation, lower taxes, and decreased government spending. The political spectrum, in other words, defines political ideologies mainly by their economic agendas.
Of course, it is not that simple. Personally, I prefer the political compass model, which incorporates social agendas into the equation. The political Left and Right tend, counterintuitively, to espouse less and more state intervention, respectively, in the private sphere. Liberals argue that reproductive decisions and marriage between members of the same sex are no concern of the state. Conservatives contend that our private lives require more regulation than the economy.
It is important to note the dual political axes of economic and social policy when one considers the phenomenon of libertarianism. Libertarians do not belong clearly to either wing of the traditional spectrum. As a group, they cherish personal liberty above all other political values. Hence, they tend to oppose government intervention in both the public and private spheres. Libertarians appear conservative when they vote on economic issues but are liberal when it comes to gay marriage, abortion rights, and the legalization of marijuana.
The billionaires David and Charles Koch, America’s premiere political donors and the most influential libertarians in the world, are a case in point. The Koch brothers are the driving force behind conservative institutions and donor networks like the Cato Institute and Americans for Prosperity, but they have also long supported many traditionally liberal social policies. David Koch, when asked why he donates far more to Republicans than Democrats despite his socially liberal inclinations, helpfully clarified that economic issues are more important to him. The far-reaching strands of what is sometimes called the “Kochtopus” have been extensively documented by Jane Mayer in Dark Money (2016), but even she does not deny the positive contributions the Koch brothers have made to some socially liberal causes in the United States.
At this point, it should seem like something is missing. Yet it is difficult to pinpoint what it might be. We have all heard of liberals, conservatives, and libertarians. But we do not seem to have covered all four points on the political compass. What is the missing fourth?
If it is possible to be economically conservative and socially progressive, it stands to reason the opposite should also be possible. And indeed, it is. Many people are economically progressive but socially conservative. Pope Francis may be the world’s most prominent example. There does not yet seem to be a word, however, for the phenomenon.
The most applicable of existing terms may be communitarianism. Communitarianism does not oppose economic regulations, but it rejects the liberal emphasis on individualism. According to Daniel Bell, writing for the Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy, this ideology emphasizes the social responsibilities owed by the individual to their community because communities “shape, and ought to shape, our moral and political judgments and we have a strong obligation to support and nourish the particular communities that provide meaning for our lives, without which we’d be disoriented, deeply lonely, and incapable of informed moral and political judgment.”
My purpose here is not to present an argument for communitarianism. I am interested, rather, in exploring this underappreciated avenue as it pertains to the better-known libertarianism and why it has been comparatively overlooked in modern politics. I will argue, given the fact that libertarian figures like the Koch brothers wield disproportionate influence on the world stage today, it may be worth the Left’s trouble to make room for communitarian ideas as a counter-libertarian measure, even if one does not agree with all its precepts.
Popes, Progress, and Politics
When Pope Francis publicly endorsed civil unions for gay couples in 2020, it was a shot heard around the world. The Vatican quickly clarified that Francis maintains his opposition to gay marriage as opposed to secular civil unions. The clarification touched off an ongoing schism with the liberal clergy of Germany, but it was entirely in keeping with the Pope’s lifelong ideology.
In the words of James T. Keane of the Jesuit publication America Magazine, Francis “will sound like Mr. Hannity at one moment and like Mr. Sanders in the next breath. And to him and to many other bishops, there is no contradiction there.” The reason is simple: Catholic social teaching has always emphasized charity and compassion for the poor. It also emphasizes traditional family values and gender roles. An Argentine by birth, Francis grew up in proximity to liberation theology, which seeks to square Catholic social teachings with the economic priorities of social democracy.
The term liberation theology was coined in 1968 by the Peruvian priest Gustavo Gutierrez. It marked the birth of a movement which had been gestating since the late nineteenth century. Pope Leo XIII’s 1891 encyclical Rerum Novarum (Of New Matters) inspired a Catholic class consciousness which was particularly pertinent in Latin America, where the Church had always been closely affiliated with the ruling creole class. The ‘liberation’ in liberation theology refers primarily to economic liberation, placing earthly improvement closer to the importance of otherworldly salvation—a controversial notion but hardly incompatible with social conservatism.
It would therefore be disingenuous to suggest, as Keane almost does, that Francis is simply a firm upholder of Catholic social teaching, just like his modern predecessors. Why, then, is Francis so beloved by liberals and so controversial among conservatives, while his predecessor, Pope Benedict XVI, endured the opposite juxtaposition? Public opinion is not always rational, but there is always some rationale behind it.
The reason is a question of emphasis. Benedict was not a big fan of capitalism either, but he did not make much issue of it. He expended more time and energy promoting his social and religious traditionalism. Hence, he was a conservative figure, and lambasted as a hypocrite by liberals when he criticized capitalist culture. Those criticisms, meanwhile, went unnoticed by the political Right, which never failed to embrace him as one of its own.
Pope Francis, on the other hand, is only slightly more socially liberal than Benedict and most (possibly all) of his papal predecessors, but he is much more vocal in promoting economic and environmental progress. He has made a point of downplaying his socially conservative tendencies, focusing instead on economic justice and ecological issues. As a result, political liberals in the United States and elsewhere forgive the limits of his social progressivism and embrace him when their views overlap.
Theological and political conservatives, meanwhile, have been known to condemn Francis as a “Marxist pope” and continually criticize him for being too socially liberal, but his views on family issues have far more in common with theirs than, for instance, those of Bernie Sanders. Francis remains firmly anti-abortion, anti-contraception, and critical of gender theory. This stance is not incongruous with his political liberalism because both are rooted in his beliefs about community, which are strongly compatible with Bell’s definition of communitarianism.
Economic and social justice can be easily squared with old-fashioned family values. Social support networks are inherently conservative, propping up the community in lieu of state intervention. These networks are becoming important again to young liberals and progressives of my generation. Alienation and isolation were already increasingly common, courtesy in part of a socially liberal culture, before the Covid lockdowns exacerbated the phenomenon.
Left-wing attitudes on community are often contradictory. When one challenges liberals’ views on abortion and gay marriage as undermining societal networks, they (perhaps I should say we) tend to squirm a lot but rarely address these conservative arguments head-on. Individuality and community, like it or not, are rarely complementary. Perfect consistency is, of course, unattainable, but we do ourselves no favors by ignoring or distorting important counterarguments that contradict our cherished assumptions. The influence of libertarianism in the Republican Party demonstrates the potential merit of a similar complement to the Democratic Party.
The Communitarian Complement
Although libertarians theoretically occupy a midway point in modern politics, their ideology is traditionally associated with capitalist theory, and therefore with conservatism. The libertarian Koch brothers are notorious for their financial and strategic contributions to the Republican Party. They have, nevertheless, also supported gay rights, abortion rights, prison reform, and the decriminalization of marijuana. It seems to be easier, in American politics, to reconcile progressive social views with political conservatism than the reverse.
This is not to say there are not conservative Democrats. African American voters, in particular, are known for voting Democratic despite frequently espousing socially conservative views. The Civil Rights movement was spearheaded by black church leaders and religious organizations with a devoted sense of community. Like other marginalized groups in the United States and elsewhere, ethnic minorities have tended to develop stronger social capital to protect themselves and to find sustenance in a hostile environment.
There may be a clue here to understanding the strength of the Republican Party. Ethnic minorities are well on the way to becoming, cumulatively, a majority in America, and vote overwhelmingly Democratic (liberal). The white majority is more conservative, but there are still a lot of white Democrats. Why, then, do the majority of Americans vote Republican?
Trick question: they don’t. The Republican Party frequently controls the federal legislature and state legislatures despite receiving fewer votes, overall, than the Democratic Party. To some extent, the federal structure of the Government is responsible. Gerrymandering is perhaps even more to blame. We can thank the Electoral College for the tendency of Republican presidents to be elected despite losing the popular vote, including Donald Trump in 2016.
The math still seems to suggest a missing piece. There is a slight but persistent lack of motivation among Democratic-leaning voters, to the benefit of Republican candidates. If this gap could be closed, it might make all the difference in many American elections.
Taking what we have covered so far into account, I posit a theory. I would suggest the absence of a communitarian answer to organized libertarianism could be a component in this liberal reticence. Many citizens in modern democracies do not feel represented by their government, but this is especially true for minorities in the United States. It may be even more true for those with socially conservative inclinations. Such a voter, given a choice only between liberal Democrats and conservative Republicans, must feel caught between a rock and a hard place.
The many socially conservative voters who support the Democratic Party evidently think like the Koch brothers in that they value economic policy higher than social policy. Everyone votes for different candidates and different policies for different reasons. It is difficult, therefore, to say whether this valuation applies to most voters, and if there are a greater or lesser number of socially conservative Democrats than socially liberal Republicans (or libertarians).
Yet the fact remains that there is no Democratic equivalent to the Koch brothers and other libertarians who have done so much to make the Republican Party what it is today. Let’s assume for a moment that I am correct in postulating that the Democratic Party is losing potential voters by failing to appeal to the socially conservative. An organized push to sway these voters could augment the electoral power of the party at a crucial moment in history. Given the antidemocratic challenges facing liberals throughout the United States, it is more important than ever for Democrats to appeal to as wide a sector as possible.
The most obvious counterargument here is that appealing to social conservatives might win them over at the price of deflecting progressive and liberal votes. This is probably true to some extent, given that any change of tack seems almost certain to alienate some voters even if it succeeds in attracting others. Democracy has always been about splitting the difference.
More to the point, American politics are deeply regionalized. For instance, there would be no electoral advantage in a Democratic candidate running for the Senate in California, New York, or my home state of Washington appealing more to the center, since these solid-blue states are going to vote Democratic anyway. But in the many mixed-to-conservative states, the picture is different. Like most Democrats, I am no fan of Joe Manchin these days. However, I also recognize that we cannot afford to be too hard on a Democrat from West Virginia.
Ideally, a communitarian complement to the Democratic Party would be not about moving the party rightward. It should instead be about expanding its scope to attract all voters who can be persuaded that the party’s economically liberal policies are worth supporting regardless of other policy concerns. Social liberals, even those whose social views are more important to them than economics, will not be driven away by such an initiative. The voters to whom it might make a difference are those to whom the Democratic Party is not currently appealing.
There is still a case to be made that broadening the party’s focus to include communitarians could dilute its efficacy by bringing more potential contrarians like Senators Joe Manchin and Kyrsten Sinema into the fold. For all our political polarization, there are still some, such as Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, who feel the Democratic Party remains too much a big tent party. There is some truth to this, but I think party affiliation is more influential in America than theoretical tenets. Major political parties like the Democrats and Republicans comprise distinct subcultures, with their own norms and values.
As long as a party can broaden its reach without losing its distinct core values, it will be more powerful as it reaches and appeals to more people. At a time when democracy is imperiled by sensationalism and ruthlessness, this kind of outreach seems more important than ever.
Conclusion
There is a large and compelling body of work exploring how America’s political parties took on their current liberal-conservative dichotomy and became polarized. The general consensus is that the Civil Rights movement catalyzed the shift of the Democratic Party to the Left and the Republican Party to the Right. The tumultuous 1990s saw the rise to power of divisive figures like Newt Gingrich and Bill Clinton, whose conflicting interests sowed the seeds of political tribalism. These analyses can only take us so far exploring antidotes to this polarization, because we cannot recreate the conditions that preceded it and strike out on a different course.
We can, however, heed certain lessons from the past. Political parties, like all organisms, live and die by their utility. A political party which ceases to represent the political beliefs of its voters is one which will soon become defunct. It is possible for a political tent to become too big, but there is perhaps even more peril in overspecialization—at least in a two-party, first-past-the-post system like the United States.
This, I posit, is why we need to enfranchise communitarianism in the United States (and perhaps elsewhere, given the rise of Right-wing nationalism throughout the developed world in recent years). The point is not that liberals and progressives should water down their own politics. The point is that we have more to gain by focusing our energies on what is most important to us so that we can work more effectively with those who share our priorities.
For the record, I do not consider myself a communitarian, although I have some leanings in that direction. My economic views are further Left than my social views, although I am relatively liberal in that regard as well. I tend to regard the social sphere as the bedrock on which the political superstructure stands, and I am therefore less willing to tamper with it. I think many disenchanted voters probably agree with me. It appears a lot of people support much of the Democratic Party’s agenda but are reluctant to support the party itself out of discomfort with its emphasis on more divisive, less pressing issues. These may well be the people who are least likely to vote in elections at every level. An organized communitarianism might be the key to re-enfranchising these persons as a voting body.
