I owe a lot to David Boaz, the VP of Cato who died today, just shy of 71. I was only 29 when he invited me to write a book that Cato published—and, in fact, to do it in less than six months, even though I’d never written a book before, and had no idea what it entailed. That was an extraordinary mark of confidence on his part. Especially because I don’t think I was ever exactly his favorite person; we differed about some things—well, just foreign policy, really—and I always got the sense that my outspokenness bothered him.
I had first met him when I was 22, fresh out of college and full of excitement for libertarian ideas (and he was younger than I am now). So it was only much later that I came to appreciate that his hesitation toward me was actually a manifestation of one of his strongest virtues: he wanted a libertarianism that was accountable, honest, and thoughtful—one that deserved to prevail. And that made him naturally suspicious of my youthful brashness. (He was that rare reader who would come to me with a footnote in something I’d written and ask if I had really read that source? Yes, I had.) So while he held me at arm’s length when I was younger and louder than I am now, it wasn’t personal—it was that he knew that we will accomplish nothing if we resort to exaggeration or bluster to win an argument, and that it’s better even to lose a debate than to employ such tactics. He naturally feared that in my enthusiasm, I might do the latter. (It was partly because of his influence that I, for example, began to maintain a public list of errata in my books.)
That was what made it matter to have his respect. That’s why, years later, when we became closer, and when he said some kind things about one of my books, it meant so much. I had earned his praise. It wasn’t just unconditionally handed out.
That discipline on his part is one of the chief reasons Cato is so respected today. The Institute’s detractors sometimes accused him of…well, what, exactly is hard to say—selling out? having too conservative a temperament? being excessively respectable?—and called him bizarre things like “court libertarian,” because he sought to reform the system in a pro-freedom direction, rather than denounce it, and accomplish nothing, for the sake of feeling oneself morally untainted. These accusations, or rather, this name-calling, was especially absurd given that he stuck to his libertarian principles; he was exceedingly proud of being one of the few signers of the National Review “Against Trump” manifesto who remained true to that commitment in the years that followed—vide his final tweet.
David Boaz is one of those who taught us how to responsibly promote radical ideas. In looking at the looming horizon, I think it's safe to say that our only hope lies in doing just that.
It’s increasingly feeling like the Adults in The Building are leaving us; the people we looked up to for wisdom and guidance are dying, retiring, or doing what Boaz didn’t do, and boarding the S.S. Trumptanic. It’s a chilling thought. But David himself would probably have seen it as an opportunity. He was a young man when he entered the freedom world, and in a sense, he was a pioneer: the first libertarian think tank in the world, FEE, was less than a decade older than he was himself! He and his colleagues had to build almost from scratch an intellectual landscape that we take for granted. He had, so to speak, only the gods to teach him—whereas we've been lucky enough to have rabbis—thanks in part to David Boaz.
We best do him honor, therefore, by heeding the lessons he worked all his life to teach: lessons not just about freedom itself, but about how to preserve and expand and proclaim it. That is what he would have advised: to take the extraordinary advantages that we've been given and move forward, to make the world a freer place than we found it. In fact, that is just what he did advise us, in his farewell speech, which you can watch here:
Good night, America, how are you?
I say, don't you know me? I'm your native son.
I'm the train they call The City of New Orleans.
I'll be gone 500 miles when the day is done.
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