I Chose Liberty - Ludwig von Mises Institute

56 I Chose Liberty: Autobiographies of Contemporary Libertarians
It was clear this fellow wasn’t ready for radical Rothbard. The libertarian position on
decriminalizing drugs would have been an easier sell, but, alas, I was young and such subtleties
were still to be learned.
And then, suddenly things begin to go wrong, particularly in your career and social
standing.
At first, they were shocked by your radicalism. With the erosion of time what was
shocking became “quaint.” Finally, some began to regard you as “odd” (there’s that word—
see below), and invitations to the good parties dwindled.
The libertarian soon finds himself in a sort of exile with others who suffer the same
imprint. This leads to an uncomfortable observation about libertarians.
In many respects they are superior people, but (it’s time for candor) libertarians are—
how do I say this—well, they’re different. No, it’s more than that. Actually, they are odd.
Small wonder that our movement attracts whackos and crazies of varying stripe and
degree. No, let me amend that and draw a sharp distinction between the whacko and the
crazy. A crazy is exactly that. He is nonideological and should be avoided. When avoidance
fails, handle him with caution and kindness. The whacko, by contrast, is purely
ideological and usually committed to a single issue. He will remind you of that
ad nauseam.
As an aside: Murray Rothbard, that inveterate New Yorker, had difficulty identifying
crazies in California. In Manhattan, the harsh weather made the crazies visible. They lived
in cardboard boxes and wore clear plastic sheets as overcoats. In California, almost everybody
wears short-sleeved shirts year round.
Another reason to be wary of Californians.
At almost every phase of my libertarian odyssey, the whackos and other fringe players
were always evident. See if you don’t recognize some of these birds from your own
journey.
He rarely attended the libertarian functions in San Francisco but could be found in a
freedom bookstore in the Castro district. He wore black and could be heard muttering,
“Live Liberty, Live Liberty.”
He was also an enforcer. “Do you use the U.S. mail system, or walk or drive on government
roads? Do you carry a driver’s license?” It may have been easy for him, as he owned
no car, never received or mailed a letter, and hardly ever left the bookstore.
There were few others who could measure up to those standards.
On any libertarian journey, an encounter with the John Birch Society was inevitable.
Although some of the local-level Birchers are inclined to oversimplify the cause and solution
to the world’s ills, I was fortunate in knowing JBS founder Robert Welch, and the great
Gary Allen was a pal.
Hardly libertarians, these folks always seem to be on the right side of important issues,
if not always for the right reasons.
The JBS advocates a vast military state, yet they are rock solid on the key matter of
the U.S. maintaining a non-interventionist foreign policy.
If this sounds a bit schizophrenic, well—as Murray used to say—“Everybody is entitled
to one deviation.”