Well. I’ve already explained why I changed my username several times in several threads, including the announcement of my intention to do so before it ever came about. So, Lissener, if it will help any, I’ll give you some of the background on what caused me to consider the decision at all. The process turned out to be something like the man who had discovered that his real father was the obnoxious old man who lived next door.
One evening, as my wife was posting, I was flipping channels trying to find something on TV. It was one of those times when absolutely nothing was on except reruns and hohums. Hitler. Hitler. Strong abs. Hitler. Fox News talking head. MSNBC talking head. CNN report on the dangers of Atkins. I paused there a bit. Hitler. Gemstones from Asia. Rerun of Sahara lion pride. Hitler. And then something interesting… What movie was this? Excellent acting. Clever, crisp script. Top class photography and directing. Smooth editing. After a bit of disorientation, I recognized the Oval Office. Ah, maybe this will be interesting. Something about a war perhaps, or a national crisis. Suddenly, the close up revealed Martin Sheen. Oh, shit. Not this guy. Please. But just as I reached for the button, John Spencer’s familiar face filled the screen. What a great actor, underappreciated and unheralded. I had long been a fan. The framing of his concerned expression was perfect as he exclaimed, “She’s a Republican, Jed!” Sheen removed his glasses and looked up. “She’s an American, Leo.” Without even having any prior context, the drama was thick and interesting. It had dawned on me by now that this was that show I’d heard about before: West Wing — the liberal White House, filled with liberals liberalizing liberally. My thumb hovered over the “channel up” button, but I just couldn’t take my eyes away from the screen. I love good cinema, no matter what the subject matter, so long as the elements are good. And these elements were near perfect. “What if she doesn’t want to come to work for us?” Spencer asked as Sheen rose from his chair. “Appeal to her sense of duty,” he responded, “I’m serious about this Leo. Hire her.” Spencer’s gripping expression of resigned acceptance was nothing short of inspirational acting, and the director’s capture of it with a circling camera was brilliantly timed. After a short while, I was able to piece together what this was about. Jed was the president, and Leo was his subordinate. Vice-president, I thought at the time. They were hiring some sort of notorious Republican, and I wondered why. Long story short, it turned out to be a woman named Ainsley Hayes, beautiful and brilliant, insightful and pleasant. I had expected them to give her loaded dialog to make her look like an idiot. But on the contrary, her role underscored the trust that the President had put in her. She was capable and strong-willed, yet demure and introspective. Her dialog, particularly with one called “Sam”, was not only impeccable, but written so that she actually made him look like an idiot. He would bark leftist platitudes at her a mile a minute, and she would respond without skipping a beat, knocking down every point and argument that he offered with reason and measured skill. It was clear that he was no match for her. I guess what knocked my socks off was that the show did exactly what I hadn’t expected. It introduced a character that most such shows would ridicule and make into a caricature, and gave her intelligence and charm. As it turned out, this was a marathon of West Wing, and I followed the story of Ainsely Hayes and her eventual acceptance by the characters whom I quickly came to know because of the excellent writing and casting. By the end of the day, I was a rabid fan. I learned a lot about the inner workings of the White House, and although there was much with which I disagreed, there was much that I strongly advocated, such as rights to privacy and so forth. With some reluctance and initial disbelief, my wife began watching with me over the next several weeks as we recorded every day’s episode. I began to understand certain things, such as how difficult it would be to disassemble the behemoth bureaucracy of the federal government. I learned a lot about the inner workings, the relation between a president and his chief of staff, the roles of various people, and the consequences of reckless naivity, such as when President Bartlett wanted to retaliate for the shooting down of an American plane. Attentive board members will recall a relatively recent period in which I probed with questions about West Wing in Cafe Society and things presidential and military in General Questions.
Not surprisingly, perhaps, I have many books about philosophy, including the philosophy of politics, and of libertarianism specifically. I dug them out, not having read them in years, and paid particular attention to the roots and history of liberalism. Although the Libertarian Party was formed by disgruntled Republicans in the 1970s, libertarianism itself has a long history, traced by some to Lao Tsu and Aristotle — at least the core principles. That, I had always known. And I had always known that “classical liberalism” was the same as libertarianism. But West Wing had showed me that modern mutations of liberalism, such as centrism, were born of compromise. Centrists came from both ends of the spectrum. And Jed Bartlett’s greatest moments were when he did not. They were when he acted from principle and conviction. He is a good man who leads with his heart. And he jokes about being the Democratic Party’s outcast and nemisis. In one episode about a filibuster, he decides to help an old man who is trying to help his grandchildren. He orders his staff to contact Senators and inform them of his plan. “Start with the two who like us,” he says, “and then go from there.” Other than the various wealth distribution schemes and Rooseveltian intrusions on liberty, I realized that this show was close to how essential liberalism would be implemented in a framework like the US White House. Jed Bartlett was like Harry Browne with common sense. Liberal had become a dirty word, even though both liberal and libertarian take their etymologies from the Latin liber — freedom. Libertarianism is one kind of liberalism. In my opinion, it is the best kind. And so, as I already explained to you, Lissener, I do not take offense when you call me Libertarian, even though you mean it to be offensive. It is rather like being called John when your username is Disciple. He is the most beautiful one.
