THE RISE OF THE "CHARLIE KIRK CONSERVATIVES"

by Robert Bidinotto

(from a 9/24/25 Facebook post)
 
 After watching the televised memorial for Charlie Kirk on September 21, 2025, I'm convinced that his martyrdom for his convictions -- and martyrdom is the only proper word for it -- is going to be transformational to the country, in ways people don't yet grasp or anticipate. 

In recent decades, for reasons many of us know, the American "narrative," like the Christian "narrative," have been under relentless assault by the enemies of Western civilization. The stories undergirding both America and Christianity have stopped being credible or resonant with millions. Cut loose from the steadying anchor and sure rudder these narratives once provided, our society has gone adrift, floating aimlessly into the shoals of cynicism and the swamps of decadence, then sinking into an undertow of political disintegration and division -- and thus allowing, at home and abroad, the incursions of piratical nihilists to plunder and scavenge from the wreckage of our civilization. 

Spiritually, the loss of our unifying Narratives has left a gaping hole in the minds and hearts of Americans (and Western societies, generally) -- a pervasive sense of hopelessness, aimlessness, and anxiety. 

Yes, all this stems from the absence of a coherent, compelling story -- a Core Narrative about the world that is both explanatory and inspiring, that makes sense of the world and provides individuals a purposeful role and a meaningful identity -- a Core Narrative for individuals that, simultaneously, provides a unifying mythology for the broader society and culture. 

As a teenager, Charlie Kirk sought and found such a Narrative for himself in Christianity...but also in America. In his mind and heart, Charlie wedded the Narrative of Christianity to the Narrative of America: to "the American dream" -- and to the Enlightenment values of individualism, self-responsibility, self-reliance, personal liberty, individual rights, free speech, free-market capitalism, and constitutionally limited government. In his mind and heart, he wove together those two threads of Narrative and Myth -- the Christian and the American (with its Greco-Roman and Enlightenment roots) -- into one seamless fabric...into one Core Narrative. 

That Core Narrative became Charlie Kirk. Under its spell, Charlie became a human dynamo of evangelical passion. It transformed him into a young man of boundless self-confidence, irrepressible optimism, passionate truth-seeking, and fearless action. Aided by extraordinary gifts of native intelligence, authentic idealism, appealing good looks, and self-acquired oratorical ability, Charlie's Narrative vision became a compelling magnet that attracted thousands -- especially young lost souls, adrift in the moral and spiritual swamps of contemporary America. 

I have fashioned my own Core Narrative. In many ways, it overlaps with Charlie Kirk's. Its roots and rationale draw mainly from the secular side of the American Enlightenment and Greco-Roman traditions, and not the Christian side. 

Still, in terms of attitudes and practices of daily living -- in terms of how he and I would approach work, human relationships, and politics -- there is not much difference between my vision and that of the late Charlie Kirk. I could very easily, and very happily, live and flourish in the America he envisioned -- and among the kind of Christian Americans that would inhabit it. 

That became obvious to me during the huge, globally watched celebration of Charlie's life on Sunday. As the cameras panned over the thousands and thousands of decent, peaceful, normal Americans in that enormous audience, I thought: "These people are the poorest excuses for 'fascists' I have ever seen." 

I'd like to address the rest of this message primarily to my secular-individualist friends and colleagues, including non-religious Objectivists, libertarians, and conservatives. 

Watching the Charlie Kirk memorial -- and observing how his exemplary personal life, idealism, and decency have touched, inspired, and galvanized huge and growing numbers of Americans -- reinforced my conviction about the irreplaceable necessity of developing not only a philosophy, but also a Core Narrative, to guide individuals and society. 

As I have often written and said, a philosophy and a Core Narrative serve interrelated, but separate purposes. Both offer individuals an integrated view of the world and their role in it. But a Core Narrative is a story that dramatizes your worldview: it offers you a role in that drama, and an identity in the world; and it motivates you to take action. A philosophy, by contrast, only explains your worldview, teasing out its many implications and offering an abstract, systematic rationale for them. But being conscious and abstract, a philosophy has little power to touch your subconscious wellsprings of emotion and motivation -- to personalize those abstractions and inspire you to act. 

A philosophy is like a map to help you chart the course of your life. A Core Narrative is like a video that helps you visualize and experience your life journey. A philosophy is like looking at architectural blueprints of your planned house. A Core Narrative is like taking a 3-D virtual tour through your planned residence -- or like looking at an actual miniature model that helps you experience the reality of your future home, in the here and now. 

And that leads to the problem I pose to my secular philosophical and political colleagues. Yes, we have charted terrific philosophical maps and detailed blueprints for our worldview; but we don't have enough compelling videos, virtual tours, and actual models for our worldview to be properly, fully experienced. 

Now, many of you are going to reply, "What about the novels of Ayn Rand? She created great models of inspiring characters!" 

And so she did. But only two novels -- and written in a style and voice and level of abstraction that don't speak to everyone today. At best, I could say, "Yes, but we need more like these -- a lot more." 

But I think we need something else, too. And I'm not sure we can get it in our lifetimes...or even in the next century. 

You see, the Core Narratives of Christianity and of America have acquired their mythological status and resonance precisely because of their distance from our era. Those who revere historical characters from the Bible or America's founding can do so because the mists of time mask those people's personal foibles and failures, leaving us with stories mainly about the best of their character and achievements. The passing of centuries thus has allowed them to rise to legendary and heroic stature. 

Today, however, even the most exemplary figures are not immune from 24/7 reputational dissection by social media gossips, podcasters, and cable news commentators. It took centuries for Christianity to develop, because the claims of its believers were spread by word of mouth, and not subject to legions of often-hostile "fact checkers" and reputational smears in viral messages. But imagine if Jesus and his Apostles had to undergo a daily onslaught of instant, intrusive scrutiny, "fake news," and internet rumor-mongering. 

My point is that while creating a new Core Narrative for individuals is certainly possible in our time (Rand did that for thousands), creating a new cultural mythology for our entire society is a very different proposition. In America and globally, existing worldviews have social and cultural roots that harken back into antiquity. Uprooting and replacing this mythology with a new mythology would/will take a very long time -- and these days it would have to do so under the glaring spotlight and probing microscopes of the media.

 I think the best we secular individualists can do, for now, is to fashion, flesh out, and live our own Core Narrative(s)...as individuals. The proof of a Narrative's value will be what we make of our own lives. Then, over time -- decades, perhaps centuries -- some singular individual who heroically embodies such a Narrative will arise and stand out as its champion. That exemplary individual may then acquire mythic and legendary status. His own story might become the spark of a new cultural movement and mythology, turning his private Narrative into a social crusade akin to a secular individualist religion -- with its own infrastructure of ceremonies, rituals, and institutions commemorating the legend. 

A second thing we secular individualists can do, for now, is to stop regarding what I hereby label the "Charlie Kirk Conservatives" as our adversaries -- let alone as our "enemies" (like a few morons in Objectivist circles are doing). Far from it. Charlie Kirk may not have shared our metaphysics; but he shared most of our basic ethical and political premises, and in fact he was a model of reason, honesty, independence, integrity, productivity, and justice. He, and the thousands of followers who regard him as a role model, are our natural allies. As I said earlier, I could flourish happily in a world of Charlie Kirk Conservatives -- and so could you. 

For now, we secular individualists have a philosophy, but not a Core Narrative that is sufficiently developed and compelling enough to replace theirs. Nor do we have a heroic exemplar of our worldview who can capture the public imagination as has Charlie Kirk. Nor do we have the cultural legacy of such a hero: an infrastructure of ceremonies, rituals, and institutions that can forge social bonds and traditions built upon shared beliefs and values. We have little if any of that sort of thing -- not yet. 

And you can't replace Something with Nothing. 

I saw something emerging at the Kirk ceremony that, for the first time in decades, has given me real hope for America's future. I saw Charlie Kirk's personal integration of exemplary character, Christianity, and American Enlightenment ideas and values being fused into a Core Narrative that instantly captured the imagination of the country. I witnessed the personal story of Charlie Kirk being woven, before my eyes, into the Core Narratives of Christianity and the American Enlightenment, in a way that was reviving, in millions of people, a passionate, patriotic dedication to our Founding Fathers' legacy. 

His wife called the movement Charlie launched not a revolution, but "a revival." And so it is. I believe this movement is going to grow to become culturally and politically transformational -- and that Charlie Kirk is going to become a pivotal, legendary figure in American history. The story of his life and martyrdom will become an indelible chapter in the broader American Narrative. 

Through his willingness to converse and cooperate with political cousins in Objectivist and libertarian circles, Charlie Kirk will undoubtedly serve as an ecumenical role model for his movement, going forward. And we secular individualists would be colossal fools not to join with them, assist them, and defend them, whenever we can make common cause, culturally and politically. 

Charlie Kirk Conservatives are our natural compatriots in the defense of Western civilization from the nihilists. They represent the best of America, people whom we should welcome into our lives as our allies, as our neighbors, and -- yes -- as our friends. 
 

From Emotions, to Narratives, to Ideologies

In intellectual circles, it is common to believe that ideology is a decisive social force on its own -- that abstract philosophical systems underlie societies and cultures; and that to change a society, you need only promulgate a different philosophy/ideology.

Of course, intellectuals want to believe in the decisive "power of ideas," because as promulgators of ideas, this belief confirms their lofty view of their own social importance and power. And certainly the connection of ideologies to societies, movements, and governments is obvious and undeniable -- which is why, for decades, I accepted this conventional view, too.

But a lifetime of promoting philosophical ideas has caused me to reconsider my views about the role of philosophy/ideology in human life and society. Introspection, observation of people close to me, and sobering realizations about how marginal and fleeting the impacts of philosophical persuasion (by myself and by many other skilled communicators) have been -- all of that has led me to conclude that personal and cultural change is much more complicated than simply spreading the "right" philosophy.

Summarized simply, I now believe...

...that the vast majority of people, including intellectuals, are actually driven not by ideas, but by emotions, often fairly crude ones, rooted in values, often only implicit;

...that over time, these emotions and values, if shared widely in a society, become concretized and popularized in the form of Narratives -- of myths, legends, and stories that are causally instructive, personally motivational, and socially unifying;

...that only later do the more intellectual believers in these emotionally appealing, values-laden stories, myths, and Narratives try to buttress them with more sophisticated, abstract, theoretical rationalizations -- that is, with explanatory philosophies, ideologies, or theologies. They do this to flesh out and support the core themes and underlying motives of their Narratives, granting them the social weight and gravitas of an "intellectual" image and justification.

You see this pattern manifested historically with every creed that has attracted a significant following and become a mass movement. They start with a set of core emotions, rooted in values broadly shared across a large social group; then follows the development of a popular mythology that dramatizes and evokes the group's shared emotions and values; and finally comes a complex theoretical rationalization for the mythological Narrative (and its values-driven emotions), which is crafted by the social group's intellectuals. In this last stage, the abstract system can take on a life of its own: it is taught and promoted in "movement" schools and texts, and believers cling to it tightly, because it offers reassuring intellectual support and explanations for the core Narratives that give their lives meaning, identity, and purpose.

But the foundational appeal of philosophical, ideological, or theological systems does not lie in their theoretical abstractions themselves; pure abstractions carry no emotional appeal or motivational power. Instead, the believers' commitments are fundamentally to their core Narrative -- to their inspirational mythology, or story -- and to the emotions and values it embodies and evokes. All that the theoretical abstractions offer are rationalizations and reassurances that their story is valid.

Why is this so? It is important to come to grips with the fact that we humans are "the storytelling animal" -- that our earliest childhood grasp of causal relationships in the world, like that of primitive peoples, is enmeshed in storytelling. It's only later in life (or in human civilization) that we begin to abstract a systematic, scientific, causal understanding of the world apart from our storytelling roots. But our brains remain wired by storytelling patterns established from infancy, and even in adulthood we are still drawn like moths back toward the light (enlightenment?) that stories provide.

The indelible power of Narratives explains why so often you can argue with someone using reason, logic, and overwhelming facts, until you are blue in the face, yet get nowhere. Or why a person's "intellectual" commitments can seem so shallow and fleeting. Or why politicians and dictators rely so heavily on storytelling about their target constituencies' collective "identity," in the form of a high-stakes drama about villains (their political adversaries), victims (their constituents), and heroic rescuers (themselves). Or why a person's "conversion" requires not just a new ideological argument, but instead begins with an emotional upheaval rooted in profound personal dissatisfaction with their status quo -- which then leads them to an encounter with some appealing new Narrative that promises the dissatisfied individual a fresh identity: a meaningful new life role and purpose. The philosophical argument then comes along as a reassuring explanation for the wisdom of their conversion; but it alone is not the motivator of the conversion.

Abstract theory alone has little persuasive power to motivate major, enduring changes in individuals or societies. Karl Marx's global influence on millions came with The Communist Manifesto, his rabble-rousing Narrative about capitalist oppressors and the working-class oppressed -- and not with his Das Kapital, a theoretical tome read by only a tiny fraction of those whom the former pamphlet brought under his spell. Ditto the Gospels of the Christian Bible, whose stories touched more people, by many orders of magnitude, than did Aquinas's Summa Theologica, which used Aristotelian logic to provide supporting arguments for the Christian worldview. Ditto Ayn Rand's fiction: her novels have inspired and influenced many times the number of "Rand reader" fans than her nonfiction philosophical writings have produced "Objectivists," who are more intellectually inclined. Indeed, the overwhelming majority of self-described Objectivists got interested in Rand's philosophy only after becoming captivated by her Promethean fictional narratives.

Here's another example to ponder. Decades ago, in a lecture that touched on this topic, I observed that it was the seminal storyteller Homer, writing in the 8th century BC, whose mesmerizing epic poems inspired the birth of Ancient Greek culture and of Western civilization. By contrast, Aristotle -- Greece's greatest philosopher, the father of logic and systematic rational thinking, and of countless scientific fields -- came along hundreds of years later, during the decline of Greek civilization. If abstract philosophy were truly the source of cultural transformation, then in the chronology of Western civilization, Aristotle should have appeared long before Homer, and perhaps paved the way for him. But the chronology is precisely the reverse: it was the storytelling giant who preceded the philosophical giant; and the greatest philosopher's boundless contributions to human knowledge still were not sufficient to prevent the fall of Greek civilization.

Let me emphasize that an abstract philosophy can serve legitimate and important purposes; it does not have to offer merely sophistic rationalizations for a bogus Narrative. If the Narrative is grounded in reality, then philosophy can provide a valid rationale for it. A rationale differs from a rationalization, because the former is true (rooted in reality), while the latter is false. And a valid rationale can flesh out and clarify our understanding, teasing out many important and helpful implications of a good Narrative.

To sum up, I now believe that the objective of promoting personal and/or cultural change requires us to effectively present a compelling alternative Narrative to those people who may be open to its emotional appeal. But not everyone is -- not by a long shot. People who are emotionally committed to a Narrative that defines their identity and life purpose -- but which is hostile to one's own values -- aren't going to change, no matter how skillful and logical your presentation of facts and arguments. Abstract arguments will never penetrate the emotional/values barriers surrounding and insulating a contrary Narrative. Even a compelling counter-Narrative may not prove persuasive -- not unless the target of your communication is already deeply dissatisfied with his own Narrative, and thus searching for (or at least open to) a fresh worldview.

One important, corollary point. I believe people with good values, and correspondingly good emotions, will be attracted to good Narratives -- and perhaps later, to good philosophies. But the fact that they, too, may be only "Narrative-driven" rather than intellectually persuaded is not necessarily a bad thing: that doesn't mean they are irrationally driven. If a kid is raised without any explicit philosophy, or even with a bad one, yet becomes enamored of heroes in TV shows, movies, and graphic novels -- and then, inspired, goes on to do great things -- is that irrational?

Specifically, to my many Objectivist friends, I would point out that I've just described the childhood-to-adulthood trajectory of your heroine, Ayn Rand. If you know her biography, you'll realize that she didn't start out in life with a conceptual, philosophical understanding of the world; she started out, in the hellish environment of post-revolutionary Soviet Russia, simply as a brilliant child who became captivated by heroic literature and movies. That emotional orientation, driven by some core values she didn't understand at the time, were sufficient to propel her on a remarkable journey to becoming, as an adult, a great storyteller and seminal philosopher whose worldview was the opposite of everything around her.

And her values-driven emotions first took form as a romantic Narrative of heroic individualism. That Narrative became a core part of her character by the time she reached her early teens. Rand didn't even encounter Aristotle, Aquinas, Spinoza, and other thinkers who influenced her philosophical thinking until college -- by which time her character and sense of life was already established. Her systematic philosophy did not fully take form until she was middle-aged, during the writing of Atlas Shrugged; and I would argue that she had managed to become a heroic individualist long before figuring it all out.

So Ayn Rand's life and character were shaped, initially and indelibly, by a Narrative -- not by abstract philosophy or ideology. If that is true of her, then how can it not be true of others? And what is wrong with that? Do we need formal, systematic philosophy in order to be rational, honest, independent, just, and productive? Were there no such people on Planet Earth before Rand incorporated those virtues formally into her Objectivist system? And let's be honest: what percentage of those who have spent years diligently studying, even teaching, that philosophical system have become living exemplars of its virtues?

To those Objectivists who remain unpersuaded, I suggest that you read, or reread, her book The Romantic Manifesto, especially its opening chapters, where -- in words different from mine here, but very similar in meaning -- Rand explains the enormous power of stories, and of core Narratives, in shaping the human soul and our world. While she declared that art was not a substitute for philosophical thought, she also said that "without the assistance of art, ethics remains in the position of theoretical engineering: art is the model-builder." Specifically, the narrative arts -- stories -- can most fully present good models for our actions. Philosophical thought may provide an abstract rationale for positive actions; but a rationale is not enough. Just as a road map is no substitute for fuel in the gas tank, abstract philosophical guidance is no substitute for the inspiring vision and motivational energy that can be provided by a compelling Narrative. --March 13, 2024

Can We Please Stop Using the Term "Identity Politics"?

One thing neo-Marxist collectivists understand is the power of language. They know that if they can redefine concepts, they can manipulate how we think about things, and thus infiltrate their worldview into billions of uncritical minds. It's a strategy straight out of Orwell's 1984.

The collectivists do this redefinition game constantly, across a wide swath of issues. Take "progressive" (a term I always put in sarcastic quotation marks), which they use to assert they are in favor of some undefined social progress -- which, when actually defined, means a neo-Marxist, social-engineering agenda. Or "liberal," which long ago used to mean favoring freedom, but which today means the opposite: subordinating individual freedom to politically defined, coercively imposed, collectivist ends. "Gender" has supplanted "sex," because the former can be proclaimed subjectively and inflated infinitely, while the latter has an objective biological basis in one's chromosomes and genitalia (which are now dismissed as merely "assigned" at birth, apparently at the whim of the attending medical personnel). "Hate speech" is a term invented to criminalize, hence censor, any expressed opinion that conflicts with that of the collectivists. The charge of "hate speech" rests on psychologizing: ascribing malicious motives to opinions one doesn't like. Similarly, "hurtful speech," a term which attempts to criminalize any expression that allegedly hurts someone's proclaimed feelings.

Again, there is no objective, fact-rooted basis for any of this. But once personal subjectivity is elevated to the status of moral-legal supremacy, then anyone's mere assertions acquire the weight of unquestionable legitimacy.

What offends me most is that many people, including those on the so-called political right, tacitly accept this wholesale hijacking of language without critical consideration or pushback.

A while back, for example, I took issue with the term virtue signaling. This term was actually minted by the political right to criticize the common practice by "liberals" and "progressives" of making a public, symbolic show of their various philosophical and political commitments. Yet the term "virtue signaling" tacitly accepts the premise that what those people are practicing is, in fact, virtuous. That concedes morality to their motives and their causes -- exactly opposite what the political right intends. I suggested the term be replaced with virtue posturing, which indicates the behavior is a phony claim to virtue.

A similar way the political right tacitly, thoughtlessly concedes the premises of the political left is when they use the term identity politics. This term is intended to criticize the left's constant focus on race, sex, and ethnicity in their arguments and agendas. However, what their use of this term actually does is tacitly accept the premise that one's "identity" is equivalent to one's genetic attributes -- and nothing more.

But "identity" is individual, not collective. When we "identify" something, we distinguish it from everything else by focusing on its unique, particular attributes. Your identity is not my identity. But a so-called identity resting on widely shared attributes, like race or sex, is no "identity" at all. It is homogenized class membership.

Using the term "identity politics" thus concedes that identity is, in truth, nothing more than collectively shared attributes. It tacitly ratifies our thinking about identity in terms of groups and classes -- which is exactly the goal of the collectivists. In addition, it is too narrow a term: "identity politics" reduces to mere politics what is actually a much broader worldview and outlook.

Today's "woke" collectivists want to obliterate individualism -- seeing and judging people as individuals -- and instead to substitute tribalism: seeing and judging people as members of DNA-based groups, classes, and collectives. We need to employ language that makes this clear.

To that end, I suggest critics of collectivists use terms like racial tribalism/tribalists or sexual tribalism/tribalists to specify the mindset and worldview they oppose. "I oppose identity politics" is vague and misleading. However, "I see and judge people as individuals, not as racial and sexual tribes" is an easy-to-grasp, appealing, and ultimately winning position.

One caveat: There is a subset of collectivist tribalists on today's political right, too. It's understandable that they'd be uncomfortable with my suggestion that we identify ourselves as individualists who are opposed to all forms of tribalism. But those of us who are individualists can, by publicly rejecting "racial tribalism" or "ethnic tribalism" or "national tribalism," at least get right-wing collectivists to identify themselves. It's always good to know who your real friends and foes are, and it's time we smoked them out.

Thoughts About Stories, Myths, Narratives…and Ourselves

I haven't read Jordan Peterson sufficiently to know exactly how he uses the term "Narrative," and how it may differ from how I use it. But capitalized, I use "Narrative" quite expansively, to mean a fundamental "story" that explains for each individual the basic nature of reality, and of his or her own place in the world, and that provides a vision of "right and wrong" (hence, moral guidance) by which to navigate the world. Each of us experiences this worldview in the form of a usually implicit "story," in which the individual casts himself or herself as the main character.

What a "Narrative" is for the individual, a myth is for a culture. I believe they serve the same basic purposes.

Briefly, I believe that the initial source of Narratives (on the individual level) and myths (on the social level) lies in the nature of the human subconscious, and its interaction with lived experience.

Our subconscious automatically processes our lived experience in the form of concretes -- that is, in terms of perceptions and sensations, rather than abstractions. Our dreams are windows into that subconscious processing. We have no conscious control over dreams when we sleep, but our daily lived experiences become elements that our subconscious automatically, involuntarily sorts, associates, and integrates.

Also, during these associations, certain of our underlying emotions and past experiences -- often deeply buried in memory -- become fodder for psychological projections, in the form of symbols: images and "stories" that allude to what we have felt and experienced.

Again, we have no conscious control over any of this. That's just the way the human subconscious works. It is what makes we humans "the storytelling animal."

Unlike dreams -- which are subconscious, involuntary, automatic, and individual -- myths are consciously guided, symbolic projections that draw upon our subconscious reservoir of widely shared human experiences. But what "experiences" am I talking about?

I believe that the primary purpose of myth-making -- of storytelling in general -- is to help us grapple with causality in the world. Cause-and-effect is the universal "life experience" that stories are trying to sort out; and myths are accounts, in story form, of the most fundamental causal relationships in the world.

The relationship between abstract theory and story is important to understand. Both provide accounts of causal relationships in the world. You might say (crudely, and not entirely accurately) that a story is a populated theory, and a theory is a depopulated story. What an abstract theory does is generalize about causal relationships in the world. What a story (including a myth) does is personalize an abstract theory, showing the direct (or analogous) relationships and impacts of a causal process upon individuals, and its meaning for their lives.

For example, look at what may be the most popular or core myth: "the hero's journey" or "The Quest." It is a projection, in symbolic form, of the life experience of most individuals.

We are all born in a helpless state of sensory bombardment and confusion. As infants, we slowly begin to sort out sensations into perceptions, and then into very basic causal interactions. In myth, this primal chaos and early sorting-and-integration process is captured symbolically in the opening verses of "Genesis."

As infants and young children, we are utterly dependent upon our parents to meet our basic life needs. This is the comfort zone of our early lives, when we are taken care of and nurtured, and when we are not forced to take action -- hence, when we face no risks and exert no effort. In mythology, this is commonly symbolized as the "Golden Age," or "Garden of Eden": a past, primitive state of automatic wish-fulfillment that, in memory, seems like blissful "perfection." In the classic three-act storytelling structure, this is the "Ordinary World" at the start of every tale, in Act One -- the comfort zone of the protagonist.

But as we mature, we become more aware of the larger world outside of our little home-bound Eden. We become curious about it and wonder whether there are values out there to be obtained. So, we become more exploratory and active.

However, activity intrinsically entails effort and risk. To satisfy our curiosity and to achieve any of our individual goals, we must slowly venture forth from our comfort zone, from the automatic security of parental nurturing. We must begin a slow process of separation from them, and launch our independent life's adventure. In Greek mythology, this is the Iliad and the Odyssey; in Genesis, this is Adam and Eve; in the three-act storytelling structure, this is the Act One "inciting incident" or "Call to Adventure," followed by the protagonist's passage through a "Doorway of No Return," into the Act II "World of Adventure."

And on the story goes, along a course clarified by mythologists such as Joseph Campbell (drawing upon Jung's subconscious "archetypes"). Along the way, the life passages during our Hero's Quest lead us to encounter enemies, allies, mentors, shape-shifters, etc. We face mounting challenges and confrontations; encounter setbacks and betrayals; experience reversals of fortune, major turning points, and the darkest lows of failure. Yet in heroic stories and myths, the protagonist -- a projection of our own life journey -- presses on; faces the challenges and evil enemies; finds hidden resources and abilities within; and, in a climactic confrontation, overcomes all adversity to achieve his vital goals.

So this seminal myth, the Heroic Quest, is really a psychological projection of the basic course of our lives. Its source is the universal experience of all individuals in the world, from birth to maturity to death. We cling to this core myth because it speaks to our deepest experience and emotions as we navigate life -- which is why it is retold again and again, in novels, plays, songs, and films. In each telling, the story has its circumstantial variations, as does the protagonist: He is "The Hero with a Thousand Faces," as Campbell titled his seminal book. But it is a story we need to see and hear, again and again -- for encouragement, inspiration, and reminder of who we are and why we are here, and how we can create a life of meaning, purpose, and identity.

"The Hero's Journey" obviously is not the only myth. But if you examine the most popular, you'll find they are projections of common, widely shared human experiences. And most of them seek to grapple with the fundamental fact of causality. How does the world work? Why? What explains the natural processes we see around us? What are we going to do about it?

Seeing that humans and animals are causal agents in the world, it's only natural that primitives -- and children -- would personify natural processes, attributing to unseen spirits and demons control and causal power over them. That desire to understand the world has thus given birth to countless explanatory myths and fables.

But so too has the need for correct guidance in navigating the world: our need for a moral code. Through experience, societies realize that certain human traits are helpful and to be celebrated (virtues), while others are destructive and to be condemned (vices). These become symbolized in stories of heroes and villains, with their actions (and the consequences) becoming either sources of instruction and inspiration, or cautionary tales of evil and harm.

From our earliest childhood, we are exposed to these lessons in causality in the form of interesting stories: fairy tales, fables, myths, songs, cartoons, TV shows, films, novels, plays. Those that capture a common human experience and resonate most broadly with a vast number of people, become our cultural myths. Those that speak to us privately and intimately become our own personal "Narrative" -- our individualized "story" of how the world works, and our place in it.

This is why the most important battle of our time is the struggle to craft and establish a guiding myth for our society, and a Narrative for each of us as individuals. This battle is well-known to those whom historian Paul Johnson labeled the "Enemies of Society," in a book of that title. Their most consuming passion is "narrative control." They are telling an ugly tale about our civilization and its heroes, knowing that their success will deprive us of a unifying myth and tear our society apart.

Storytellers who understand what is at stake need to get busy. By providing a fresh, inspiring mythology for our time, they will become heroes of tales that will be told and retold to children in the future -- and the shapers of personal Narratives for generations to come.

A Meditation About the Popularity of "Self-Sacrifice"

Politics is force -- and the initiation of force necessarily creates classes of victims and their victimizers. Politics invariably results in "zero sum," or "win/lose" relationships, where some people succeed only at the expense of others. Politics thus fuels resentments, hatred, and social polarization -- which we see all around us, as our society has become so thoroughly politicized.

The coercive interactions that characterize the political world are exactly the opposite of the peaceful, voluntary trade transactions that characterize a free market, which are "win/win" relationships to mutual benefit. Every day at checkout counters we willingly exchange our money for goods or services, and both parties to the transaction customarily smile and say, "Thank you." Why? Because we have both gained something we wanted from the transaction. Neither party has taken something from the other, against his will. It's a peaceful, "win/win" trade, to mutual benefit.

So, you'd think that people who truly want a peaceful, benevolent, harmonious society would realize this, embrace free market capitalism, and reject coercive political interventions that pit people against each other. But no.

Why?

Here's where I think Ayn Rand and her followers got things a bit wrong about the popularity of "self-sacrifice." They believe that all value-preferences are driven by philosophical ideas. And they believe intellectuals have spread the moral doctrine of altruistic self-sacrifice, which lies at the heart of various collectivist ideologies. They conclude that to fight the left effectively, they must train their fire upon the moral idea of self-sacrifice, philosophically refuting it, thus undermining its appeal.

But I think this interpretation is mistaken. On its face, self-sacrifice seems unattractive and nonsensical. I believe few people ever become liberals or leftists because they find self-sacrifice to be appealing, or because they've become persuaded of its merits through philosophical argument. Instead, I think their affinity for "selflessness" is a conclusion they've derived -- perhaps even reluctantly, but quite logically -- from their broader worldview or "Narrative" about how the world works.

What worldview?

A huge percentage of people harbor the misguided view that economic transactions are zero-sum, winner-loser relationships. They believe human economic interests are fundamentally in conflict, so that the "self-interest" and gain by some necessitates the "exploitation" and sacrifice of others. They therefore see socio-economic interactions in terms of a binary choice: either gain power over others, or submit to the power of others. And that's why they gravitate to the "class conflict" theories of Marx and other collectivists. Those political theories ratify and rationalize their underlying core belief about the inherent predatory "unfairness" of economic relationships.

This inherent-conflict-of-interests Narrative is rooted deep within humanity's tribal past, when human relationships were all about dominance or submission. We have to remember that, historically, free-market, win-win capitalism is very new -- and from the outset it was misinterpreted through the distorting lens of the traditional zero-sum, win-lose worldview. Early capitalists were thus "robber barons," not society's creative benefactors. Marx, and generations he influenced, construed capitalism and social relationships in terms of class warfare. Today, "identity politics" rests on the same view of inherent tribal conflicts of interest among demographic groups.

So, if I'm right about this, then many people's idealization of the ethics of self-sacrifice makes a warped kind of sense. They come to it not from philosophical/ideological persuasion, but from their deep-seated belief in inherent conflicts of interest among men -- and the corollary conclusion that the only way for people to live in social harmony is for all sides to sacrifice their "selfish" interests for the sake of "the common good."

This puts a different interpretive spin on the popularity of the morality of altruistic self-sacrifice. Again, on its face, self-sacrifice makes no sense. Deliberately sacrificing one's own best interests and well-being is bizarre, and why people should want to accept it as a moral ideal is even more bizarre. Ayn Rand and her followers, who have viewed human action as powered entirely by philosophical ideas, tried to explain the popularity of self-sacrifice by arguing that philosophers and thinkers have pushed it upon the gullible in the form of various religious and philosophical "isms." They have written countless books and articles trying to refute it as a moral idea. Yet we see that their critiques have had little societal influence.

My explanation for their failure is that their attacks on self-sacrifice, though philosophically accurate, are strategically misguided. Altruistic self-sacrifice is less a moral cause than a moral conclusion, for those who believe that socio-economic relationships necessarily involve inherent conflicts of interest. If that's your Narrative about the social world -- if you see transactions as nothing but power relationships about dominance and submission -- then you have a logical choice to make: either to become a cold-blooded predatory brute, or to remain "nice" and allow yourself to be an exploited victim. Those who truly believe in this Narrative may conclude they'd prefer to keep their self-respect by being victimized, rather than join the criminals and brutes. Such erroneous premises and conclusions would explain, for example, the rise of Christianity and the appeal of its altruistic ethics, as summarized in "the Sermon on the Mount."

Is my view of this so far-fetched? In a discussion on Facebook with Objectivists, I found many participants recoiled from the view that even emergency situations are zero-sum conflicts that might require us to become brutes, surviving at the expense of others. That is not the Randian view of "selfishness": Most principled individualists, in fact, would prefer to keep their humanity and self-esteem by dying nobly rather than survive like predatory beasts.

Well, to them I say: Imagine how you'd live if you truly believed that normal life was all about zero-sum conflicts of interest -- that each transaction under capitalism entailed someone gaining at someone else's expense. You'd conclude, logically, that economic winners would have to be rapacious robber barons. You'd conclude, logically, that to keep your soul, you'd have to sacrifice your prospects for economic well-being, doing your work solely for the love of it, and not for commercial success. You'd conclude, logically, that to keep the economic predators in check, we need a strong cop to suppress predatory "greed": a powerful government to regulate Evil Businessmen.

If my interpretation of altruism's appeal is correct, then the real target of individualists' moral criticism ought to be the zero-sum Narrative -- the false belief in inherent economic conflicts of interest -- and not altruistic self-sacrifice per se, which is mainly an emotionally driven reaction arising from the zero-sum worldview. We need to show that economic relationships in a free society are "win/win," not "win/lose." We need to explain what 19th-century economist Frederic Bastiat labeled "economic harmonies."

And we need to teach that the "win/win" marketplace is the moral antithesis of the coercive world of politics, where all relationships are in fact zero-sum and "win/lose." The more relationships we can keep outside the political realm of force and coercion, and within the private sector of peaceful production and trade, the better for our social harmony.

The Real Meaning of "Natural Rights"

In the midst of the COVID-19 pandemic, devotees of individual liberty rightly became concerned about the kinds of drastic restrictions that were placed on our personal and economic freedoms. Is such interference with freedom ever justified? If so, what restrictions are excessive? And how long should they remain in force?

There are no easy answers to such questions. But they do raise broader and more fundamental questions about the nature and meaning of “rights.”

Some people object to any restrictions on individual freedoms, even during emergencies, seeing them as violations of their fundamental individual rights. That objection usually arises from the traditional view of individual rights, as being “natural” and/or “God-given” in origin. By this view—broadly accepted by most conservatives, libertarians, and even Objectivists—individual rights are elements or aspects of human nature itself. They are “intrinsic” or “inherent” parts of human beings; thus, they are “absolute” and may not be abridged or curtailed by anyone, at any time, for any reason—not even in an emergency.

This belief—that rights are intrinsic to human nature, and thus immutable and inviolate “by nature”—owes its appeal among liberty lovers to their justifiable fear of socially subjective theories of rights. This latter view, promoted by the political left, holds that rights are merely grants from some authority figure or from “society,” which confer special privileges, freedoms, goods, or services upon designated individuals. Viewing a right as a socially granted privilege implies that the source of rights is the granting authority. That, in turn, implies that the granting authority—whether it is a king, dictator, or social majority—is morally and legally entitled to exercise unlimited dominion over individuals. It means that individuals may act only by the authority’s permission.

But equating “rights” with “permissions” negates the very meaning of rights. To act “by right” means to act autonomously, without further permission. A right is a moral-legal entitlement—not a social permission slip.

It is therefore understandable that lovers of liberty would reject the left’s bogus interpretation of rights as socially subjective and instead seek some objective basis for the concept. Since the days of John Locke, those freedom-lovers of a secular bent have tried to ground the concept of rights in nature itself; those of a religious bent argue that individuals’ rights are “endowed by their Creator.”

But both err in thinking that their respective approaches provide the concept of rights with an unassailable, objective foundation.

Let me state up front that I believe the concept of rights does have an objective basis in certain facts of human nature. However, while my perspective draws from Ayn Rand’s seminal writings on this topic, I don’t believe the presentation she offered in her essay “Man’s Rights” (Ch. 12, The Virtue of Selfishness, November 1964) distinguishes her view unambiguously from traditional “natural rights” theories. And I do not accept theories of “natural rights” or “God-given rights” as they almost always are expounded.

First, the “God-given rights” view is problematic, not only because it reduces claims of rights to mere articles of faith, but also because I don’t believe there is any biblical reference to a concept or principle of “individual rights” that supports such claims by religious believers. Such assertions are, at best, shaky interpretations that believers have merely inferred from cherry-picked passages or ideas in the Bible, then inflated in meaning and elevated in status to become religious doctrine. Even a devout Christian ought to find such interpretations disturbingly arbitrary—especially when elaborated into full-blown theories of rights nowhere in evidence in their Bible. One does not successfully counter the left’s subjective notions of rights by offering, in their place, equally subjective appeals to faith.

That said, I want to focus at greater length upon the broader, more inclusive claims that “natural rights” are essences or elements of human nature itself. I do not accept that view, either. For me, rights are not aspects or parts of nature, or some sort of essences that exist in or arise from human nature.

Rather, I hold that rights are objectively derived moral principles.

What do I mean by that?

To illustrate: Does something called “honesty” exist in nature, as a kind of actual thing? Of course not. Honesty is an abstract moral principle, devised by men to govern certain kinds of actions. However, this moral principle is not subjective or arbitrary: It is rooted in objective facts. What facts? These: To survive and thrive, we humans must face reality—that is, face facts, and deal with them. Likewise, to survive and thrive within a human society, we must be truthful with each other. Why? Because civilized society rests upon mutual trust, and mutual trust rests in turn upon our honesty with each other. Without honesty and trust, all the values we gain from social relationships are threatened and undermined. If dishonesty and mistrust become the norm, civilization unravels. So, there is an objective, fact-based, life-serving need for us to uphold the moral principle of honesty—to root our social relationships in facts, not in fantasies, lies, and deception. It is therefore in our own natural best interests to uphold that principle firmly and consistently, as a “moral absolute” in normal circumstances.

But not in all circumstances. For instance, you don’t owe honesty to a criminal or dictator who is trying to harm you by force. The principle of honesty serves a vital purpose: It is meant to further our lives and well-being in social interaction. That principle can’t be applied unilaterally, in circumstances where our lives and well-being are being threatened by those who don’t recognize the principle of honesty—or any other moral principles—and who would use our honesty against us. Exercised unilaterally, honesty would assist aggressors and thus become a threat to our lives and well-being.

Here’s the point: We don’t live in order to practice honesty; we practice honesty in order to live. Abstract moral principles exist to serve our lives; our lives do not exist to serve abstract moral principles. The latter is a “platonic” view of principles—a view of principles as ends in themselves, rather than human life as an end in itself.

The same goes for the moral principle of individual rights. Like honesty, rights are not things that exist somewhere in Nature. They are moral principles, devised by men, but rooted in objective facts. What facts? These: To create and then survive and thrive in a human society, we need to view and respect each individual as an end in himself—not as sacrificial prey for others. Why? Because a predatory, kill-or-be-killed society is to no one’s long-term best interests. So, to avoid reverting to primitive savagery, we must recognize, as basic principles of social morality, that each individual has a moral right to live for his own sake (the right to life); a moral right to take non-predatory actions to further his life (the right to liberty); and a moral right to transform the resources of nature into the products he requires to sustain his life, including the right to keep, use, and/or trade such creative products with others (the right to property).

In other words, the moral purpose of the concept of rights is to establish essential moral boundaries among people, so that within his own personal boundaries each sovereign individual may act freely to support his own existence, well-being, and happiness. (This is what I understand Ayn Rand to have meant in her essay “Man’s Rights” when she defined a “right” as “a moral principle defining and sanctioning a man’s freedom of action in a social context.”)

That is the “natural,” objective source of the moral principles we call “rights.” And we need to hold these principles firmly and consistently, too, as “moral absolutes” in normal circumstances.

But again, not in all circumstances. For example, no concept of—or need for—“rights” would ever arise in the mind of a Robinson Crusoe living alone on a desert island, because there are no others present who could pose a threat to him, or argue with him about food and shelter and land boundaries. The moral issue of rights arises only in social relationships: only when other people are around to dispute or transgress upon the protective moral boundaries between and among individuals.

Also, the principle of rights cannot apply during catastrophes that break down all civilized boundaries and institutions—such as a war, when invading enemies transgress all boundaries and threaten all lives. Warfare is a crisis circumstance in which rights are under such direct and dire assault that they can no longer be applied and exercised by the combatants, and often by those caught in the crossfire. During such chaotic emergencies, the only moral mandate for those under attack must be to stop the aggressors, to end or escape the emergency situation, and to restore the moral order and normal civilized life. At such times, when the survival of the entire civilized framework of rights is at stake, it may temporarily become necessary for the defending forces to take drastic actions that transgress the rightful boundaries that normally apply among individuals—such as sending the defending army across private property to engage enemy forces, or enforcing curfews, or risking collateral harm to non-combatants by bombing the enemy. Horrible as these things are, the alternative is morally unthinkable: to let the aggressor prevail to harm and enslave all. The only options, then, are among degrees of short-term or long-term harm to individuals; and the ultimate long-term moral objective is to minimize and end that harm. So, the morally proper course for the defenders is to terminate the threat as quickly as possible, in order ultimately to restore and protect the rights of the threatened individuals.

I see the same principle applying during a deadly epidemic. In a situation where a potentially lethal virus is spread rapidly by individuals through normal socializing, it may become necessary—temporarily—to impose rational social restrictions in order to get the disease under control, or suppressed to at least a manageable level. Nobody has a “right” to engage freely in conduct that poses an unreasonable risk of harm to others. And during a deadly epidemic, that’s exactly what normal social behavior does. This does not mean a total, long-term lockdown of society, which would cause its own catastrophic harm and death. But prudent, temporary requirements, such as “social distancing,” wearing face masks in certain public areas, and short-term closures of places where people congregate, make sense—again, only until the disease is brought under manageable control (e.g., sufficient medical supplies and tests are available, hospitals and emergency services are no longer overrun, etc.).

To sum up: “Rights” are not arbitrary social privileges and subjective conventions; nor are they elements, aspects, or metaphysical essences existing within nature itself. What we call “natural rights” should be understood instead as moral principles, defined and applied by men, but arising from our identification of the objective, factual requirements of human nature in social relationships. To survive and thrive in society, we humans require moral boundaries to protect us from predatory aggression and to resolve disputed property claims peacefully. Rights are the moral principles we employ to establish such moral boundaries between and among individuals.

We can debate exactly how such principles apply, or where and when emergency conditions arise that might require temporary exceptions. But this view of the basis and meaning of objective natural rights is, I believe, rationally defensible. And it establishes firm moral-legal barriers to stop would-be predators, tyrants, and mobs.

(Copyright 2020 by Robert Bidinotto. All rights reserved.)

Am I Still an "Objectivist"?

As a college freshman way back in 1967, I became enamored of the novels and ideas of Ayn Rand. In the decades since, my writing and speaking has been influenced in profound ways by that late philosopher and novelist's fertile mind and artistic sensibilities. I also held positions in various organizations and publications promoting her work.

During those years, I referred to myself by the name she gave to her philosophy. I was an "Objectivist" and I promoted "Objectivism."

But I no longer use those terms in self-description. Nor am I involved in any Objectivist organizations, publications, or "movements." For anyone interested, I'd like to explain precisely why, and where I now stand.

Without getting into complicated specifics, my essential philosophical ideas have not much changed, as anyone reading my nonfiction or fiction would quickly realize. The Randian influence is deep and unmistakable. 
 
However, my views about the validity, usefulness, and desirability of a formal movement of "individualists" who are organized in ideological groups and hierarchies, which are run and policed by designated "representatives" or "intellectual heirs" (including self-proclaimed ones), have changed, and radically. In fact, even during the years I was mired within the "movement," I argued against any such organizational structures, as being in contradiction with the substance of individualism. (For example, if you can find a copy, in a recorded lecture, "Organized Individualism? Building the Objectivist Community.")

Anyone who takes seriously the lessons of Rand's novel The Fountainhead would have to reject any such creature as an "organized Objectivist movement." (For those familiar with the novel: Can you imagine its individualist hero, Howard Roark , subjugating himself as a "member" or "follower" or even "student of Objectivism"?) For some years, Ayn Rand allowed such an organized movement to be established to promote her philosophy; it was called the Nathaniel Branden Institute. It later imploded disastrously -- ostensibly because of personal issues between herself and its founder, but actually because of the issue of "intellectual representation." 

Rand had designated the eponymous head of NBI as her "intellectual heir and representative," her public spokesman and champion -- the supposed embodiment of her ideas. In practice, that meant he was a professional yes-man, required to perfectly reflect and champion her ideas -- not his own. That inevitably proved to be untenable: A philosophy of individualism cannot be promulgated as a dogma. Yet the nature and structure of an organization aiming to perfectly embody somebody's entire philosophy -- to the letter and without deviation -- mandates and encourages dogmatism.

If you read Rand's own published statements in the immediate wake of the NBI debacle, you'd see that she learned that lesson explicitly. She wrote that she always had been dubious about an "organized movement of Objectivists" and never wished to be the head of one, let alone forced into the role of trying to police "misrepresentations" of her philosophy. She also -- again explicitly -- stated she would never again authorize or endorse any such Objectivist organization. But she was barely cold in her coffin before a new, self-proclaimed "intellectual heir" (never and nowhere did she ever designate him as such) declared that, with her death, that restriction no longer applied. He then created an organization, the Ayn Rand Institute, which essentially mirrored the disastrous approach of NBI.

I participated for a long time in a different, competing Objectivist organization, one that positioned itself as hostile to the notion of any intellectual gurus, hierarchies, and dogmas. But I still found the core problem had not been effectively addressed -- because it began with the label of the philosophy itself.

Ayn Rand had developed her personal philosophical system and slapped a label on it, one in which she also declared a proprietary interest: "Objectivism." This put her admirers in a moral quandary. Were only those who agreed with Rand's every significant utterance "Objectivists"? Or could one call himself an "Objectivist" if he agreed with most of her philosophical essentials, but disagreed with her on this or that specific application or inference? And if the latter, where, exactly, did one draw the lines?

Years (and may I say, lives) have been wasted in an absurd tug-of-war among individuals and organizations over the "moral right" to use Rand's invented label in self-description. People have built their entire self-esteem (and careers) upon that "Objectivist" title; upon their "loyalty" to specific utterances and positions of Rand's (and those of her self-appointed, posthumous interpreters); and upon whether or not particular notions are "essential" to Objectivism. The determination of what is and isn't "essential" is completely arbitrary and subjective, ranging from the utterly dogmatic ("Objectivism is everything and only what Rand wrote and said of a philosophical nature") to the utterly relativistic (e.g., notions by various self-proclaimed "Objectivists" who equate that term with moral and political views Rand herself loathed and denounced).

I saw that the basic error of Rand -- as an advocate of independent judgment and individualism -- had been to ascribe a label to her personal philosophy (with all its countless implications), but then try to limit and restrict its "authorized" use by others...unless they conformed completely to every dotted "i" and crossed "t" of her own interpretation. Understandably, she imposed these restrictions about use of the label lest others publicly "misrepresent" her and damage her reputation. Yet this put sincere admirers in an impossible position: either slavishly nod and parrot Rand's every utterance, or abandon the label "Objectivist." If the former, then being an "Objectivist" means being a dogmatist -- which contradicts the individualist epistemological and moral basis of the philosophy. If the latter, though, then the only real "Objectivists" are those who abandon the label, in order to preserve their own intellectual independence and moral integrity.

Absurdly, five decades after they first arose, these debates continue to rage throughout the small and insular Objectivist subculture. Nearly a decade ago, I happily abandoned that subculture and its baggage. At my age, life had become far too short to remain mired in such pointless and preposterous preoccupations. To what end? Will the "winners" of the rhetorical battles swell their chests with pride that they -- and only they -- are the "true Objectivists"? Will that have the slightest substantive impact upon the course of their lives, let alone upon the course of the world outside their skulls?

Finally, from a personal, practical, and professional standpoint, using the shared label also meant having to constantly, publicly disavow a multitude of idiots and scoundrels masquerading as "Objectivists," and bizarre notions advanced as "Objectivism." Sadly, that included some of Rand's own private foibles and erroneous ideas. Like the "Scarlet Letter," the label has become a way for ideological enemies to employ "guilt by association" smears, linking the decent people using it to odious others, and to their dubious views. I have no time or interest in answering for the private quirks and weird ideas of total strangers, with whom I would be lumped by a shared, artificial label, but very little else.

As a principled individualist, I answer only for myself. (And I use the term "principled individualist" purely descriptively, and not capitalized.)

I cannot tell you how relieved and liberated I have felt for the past decade to be light years removed from "the Objectivist movement," and from its unproductive distractions. I remain proud of many things I accomplished during my years of involvement in that movement. But I wasted way, way too much time myopically mired in a silly, rhetorical tug-of-war over an unimportant label.

So, I no longer use the label "Objectivist." I neither have nor seek any affiliations or involvement with organs of "the Objectivist movement" -- which is "moving" nowhere, and which is an oxymoron, if you take seriously the point of The Fountainhead. I leave such petty preoccupations to those with far more years left to fritter away.

If you wish to label me anything, try my name.

Likewise, if you want to argue with my ideas, try arguing with mine -- not Ayn Rand's, or Leonard Peikoff's, or David Kelley's, or anyone else you care to name.

Independence Day 2016

Note: I posted this on my Facebook page on July 4, 2016. I neglected to post it here, but I would like to give this message a greater permanence than a passing comment on social media. Here was my message:

I AM TAKING THIS MOMENT to remember and honor what too many have forgotten: the idea that makes America unique in the history of the world. That idea -- embedded in our founding documents and defended with the blood of countless patriots -- is individualism. It is the moral principle that the individual is an end in himself, and not a sacrificial pawn of kings, dictators, legislative bodies, "majorities," or collective Society itself. And as a moral end -- not a mere means to the ends of others -- the individual has inviolate rights to his own life, and to the liberty to peacefully pursue his own happiness. Our Declaration of Independence celebrated not just an independence of colonies from another faraway country, but something far more profound: the independence of the individual from the forcible interference of others, no matter how great their number or "need."

That was the revolutionary idea underlying the American Revolution. Never before in the history of the world had that principle been recognized by any other nation or group -- which is why the history of the world is one of chronic, blood-soaked barbarism of man against man. The American conception of individual rights created the original "safe space": a moral barrier around each individual, a barrier against the force, fraud, and coercion of his fellow man. It declared him to be sovereign within that safe space, as long as he, in turn, did not use force, fraud, or coercion against others.

This idea -- even grasped and implemented imperfectly -- led to the creation of the greatest, most prosperous, most progressive (and I mean that word in its literal sense) society and economy in the history of the world. It created more opportunities for more people, higher living standards, and -- yes -- greater happiness than any society anywhere, at any time. America became a beacon of freedom and hope that beckoned to millions around the world, millions who uprooted themselves, crossed vast oceans, and came here with nothing in their pockets -- just for the chance to "make something of themselves."

America was the home of the self-made individual. It was a place where anyone could literally make and remake himself, becoming whatever he wished, without interference. All because of the principle upon which the nation was established: that the individual was a moral end in himself.

Barbaric tribalism is the default position of humanity. It is what happens quite automatically when the sovereignty of individuals is not respected and enshrined into law. Gang warfare is what happens when the social barrier to mutual exploitation -- the principle of individual rights -- is obliterated.

If we are now seeing a horrific, headlong reversion to barbarism -- abroad and here -- it's because generations of "intellectuals," chafing against legal limitations on their power over unruly individuals, have declared all-out war on the philosophy of individualism at the heart of the American project. They have looked at the achievements of individuals and proclaimed "You didn't build that!" and that "It takes a village," instead. They have glorified dictatorial philosophies and praised the thugs that imposed them on their societies. They have enabled, ignored, and rationalized inhuman savagery against millions of individuals. They have obliterated the idea that the individual is a moral end, in order to reduce him to a helpless means to their ends.

On this Independence Day, as we have fun with our friends, eat our hot dogs, and enjoy our fireworks, can we please pause to remember (if we were ever taught it) the true nature of the "independence" bequeathed to us by our ancestors? Can we grasp, if only for a single fleeting, quiet moment, the moral principle that made America distinctive, and then great? Can we soberly re-dedicate ourselves to that principle, and -- following the example of those who spilt blood for it -- vow to weave it anew into the fabric of our society and laws?

If you lack the self-esteem to do that for yourself, then do it for your spouse, or your kids. Or in memory of those heroes before us, who gave their lives, their fortunes, and their sacred honor so that their ungrateful children could enjoy lives better than their own.

In the Wake of the 2016 GOP Convention

The Republican Convention is over and, as a force representing a viable philosophic alternative to the Democrats, so is the Republican Party. Hence the double-entendre meaning of "wake" in the title. Let me add this post-mortem to my previous posted commentary about the 2016 election.

What has evolved most for me during this past year is my understanding of supposed allies on the political right: which of them are truly individualists who grasp and are committed to the basic principles undergirding America, and which are simply cultural tribalists waging war against their perceived cultural enemies.

The common core I see in those social conservatives who don't just reluctantly tolerate Donald Trump, but wildly enthuse about him, is their undisguised, gleeful tribalism. For them, the values of individualism, and their expression in the Declaration of Independence and Constitution are, at best, the empty fluff of Fourth of July speechifying and talk-show blather. Such principles are not their basic value-priority or core commitment.

The real question dividing the right today -- and all along, actually -- has been: Which is absolutely foundational for you: your commitment to your tribal-cultural affiliations, or your commitment to the basic principles of America as outlined in those founding  documents?

For a long time, I had been snookered by many who masqueraded as the latter kind of "constitutional conservatives." Right-wing radio talkers (with Mark Levin and a precious few others being admirable exceptions), the Fox News evening lineup, the Drudge and Breitbart websites, et al., have postured for years, even decades, as principled defenders of the Constitution and free markets. But the emergence of Donald Trump has exposed these long-closeted tribalists for what they really are.

They have thrown every one of their alleged principles overboard in order to support this crude national statist, among them: their sanctimonious claims to champion Christian virtues in one's personal life, to stand for property rights against eminent domain overreach, to support free trade and free markets, to oppose crony corporatism, to uphold constitutional limits on government power, to back without reservations the Second Amendment, to repeal (not "renegotiate") ObamaCare, to repeal (not "renegotiate") the Iran nuke giveaway, to stand up against Vladimir Putin in Eastern Europe, and on and on.

Only one election cycle ago, these same "conservatives" were railing mercilessly against those Republican candidates, including Mitt Romney, who failed to pass muster on even a handful of these "litmus test" issues. Such candidates were the hated RINOs, the spineless compromisers, the "sell-outs of our constitutional principles" who "negotiate" and "cut deals" with the liberal Democrats, for their own aggrandizement.

But that was four whole years ago. Things change, right? Now Trump comes along, and what is his, and their, defining issue?

Tribalism -- specifically, all those horrible foreigners coming here to infect our Traditional American Culture and "take away American jobs."

Overnight, "American Greatness" became equated not with the individualist ideals of our nation's founding, but with preserving the demographic composition of the American national tribe. It is now Us against Them -- and all principles be damned. After all, they argue, who can afford the "luxury" of fuzzy abstractions when American Culture is under assault?

Thus the stampede of the tribal right into the open arms of Trump -- and the shocking revelations of the big-name conservatives who are members of that tribalist gang. We watched them, dumbfounded, as they did an about-face on issue after issue, on principle after principle -- and then turned against a host of Trump's GOP rivals who, just four years before, they had extolled as conservative heroes. But not anymore. Instead, they undercut and bad-mouthed these candidates at every turn, handing the keys to their media platforms, 24/7, to a sordid creature much farther to the left than Dole, McCain, Romney, McConnell, and Boehner ever were at their worst.

And in the convention's aftermath, they are unleashing their greatest wrath upon Ted Cruz -- the solitary political figure who dared to take on, from the inside and without hesitation, the very Establishment that these "movement conservatives" so long pretended to oppose. His mortal sin? His refusal, on principle, to join the rest of the tribe, bow, and then kiss the corrupt billionaire's gaudy ring.

Donald Trump's candidacy has at last enticed these fakes to venture forth from their closets, cast off their faux-individualist garb, and stand nakedly exposed as the cultural collectivists they've been all along.

It has been a sobering revelation to me just how many of these fair-weather "constitutional conservatives" and "free enterprisers" are out there -- just how far our nation has degenerated -- and just how great a distance we must travel to win it back.

Any political revolution, however, must be preceded by a cultural revolution. And so I now return to doing the what I can on that front: crafting fictional narratives that offer my own vision of the kind of values and virtues a new culture will require.