Evaluating our choices on the right

Perhaps obviously enough, being a conservative in the modern academy is not the easiest path to tread. To be a conservative is to be stodgy and anachronistic, a believer in antique superstitions swept away by the progress of the modern age. It is remarkably démodé to adhere to tradition, for it confines the imagination and stifles man’s power to perfect the brave new world. There is, though, a safe corner of conservatism for the collegian, for the pillar of libertarianism stands strong.

In the recent past, college kids have come out in droves for libertarianism, manifested perhaps most visibly in the support among young men and women for Ron Paul’s quixotic 2008 presidential run. Libertarianism is acceptable largely in academic circles, for it is the “third way,” a slightly edgy philosophy that rejects the silly remnants of tradition but embraces the freedom principle, be it in social activity or economic markets. It is an alternative spin on an old ideology, and universities love nothing more than modifying and “updating” existing structures to get a new hybrid philosophy. Libertarianism, of course, is not a novel idea, but between the conventional left-right political divide, the libertarian falls somewhere outside of the normal spectrum.

In many regards, libertarianism is the perfect ideology for the young. It sheds the dead weight of the accumulated wisdom of the ages, for the here and now is what is important and what is to be evaluated by fresh young minds. It places the focus exclusively on the self—libertarians are concerned with limited government and external authority so people can be left alone to do whatever they want. It rejects modern liberals’ demands for universality, be it in some iteration of collective “human rights,” or “dignity,” or other nebulous buzzwords. It is, in the end, a remarkably solipsistic viewpoint that, at heart, turns inward.

Such an ideology is naturally attractive to college-age students. After fleeing home, we are endowed with incredible freedom at Columbia. There are no bedtimes, no watchful first-period attendance monitors, no reproving looks when stumbling into bed after a night of revelry. There are just a thousand choices in one of the greatest universities in one of the greatest cities on earth.

We are told that college is a time for experimentation, for trying things we never imagined and seeing how they turn out. We should take classes in unfamiliar subjects and attempt new activities. This type of mentality reinforces the dominance of libertarianism, for trying novel ventures without much consequence is at the essence of this philosophy. It also matters not what is chosen, for primacy is given to the act of choice alone. Whether we explore “Paradise Lost” or Myra Breckinridge is irrelevant—no value judgment is attached to the selection. The fact that we have choice—in books, in cannabis use, in marriage partner—is all that matters to the libertarian. The underlying conclusion about its goodness or badness is disregarded, for these are the stuffy conservative evaluations about propriety of the thing that is liable to upset. Conservatism, in its older, purer distillation, does not shun these judgments but embraces them to its core. That is the enduring truth of traditional conservatism, and that is the element that libertarians reject. The libertarian focus on choice, and choice alone, misses the distinction about the rightness of action that defines old-style conservatism. This indispensable element, the simple verdict of good or bad, is what makes conservatism unpalatable to young people in general, who would like time to stretch out and experiment, freed from the strictures of authority that necessarily constrain and require that the young take advice more or less on faith.

Now in the real world, libertarians and conservatives will agree on eight or nine out of 10 policy issues, which makes for about as good a political alliance as is practically possible. But the philosophical underpinnings of the ideologies diverge pretty dramatically, and it is no shock that university students, if inclined toward the right, will choose the looser, less moralistic of the two. The college and the city, particularly, offer a plethora of choices, and it is unsurprising that the established ways of stability and prudence fall aside quickly to temptation. Restraint is not this generation’s strong point, nor is it really the natural disposition of 20 year-olds. Conservatism, in its traditional form, is not an easy set of beliefs, for it demands those impulses most difficult to repress to be constrained, unlike its libertarian cousin.

In many ways, Columbia retains vestigial conservatism, which transitively instills some modicum of tradition in her students. Our required courses do value what is taught for what it is, and generations of Columbians share some common bond. If we don’t mind direction and know where to look, the great tradition shines bright.

Stephen Wu is a Columbia College sophomore. The Remnant runs alternate Wednesdays.