AUGUST 19, 2025 – I grew up in a household that was unabashedly Republican and anti-government, which was a bit ironic, since my dad worked for . . . the government[1]. Given the amount of at-home political discussion, by osmosis I was politically aware from a very early age. By fifth grade and the 1964 campaign, however, I noticed that my parents’ politics, though perfectly aligned with their close friends across the street—Fred and Ruth Moore—reflected a minority position within the broader community.
The Goldwater gospel having been well inculcated into my nascent world view, I was rather glum in the aftermath of LBJ’s landslide. If “by far the better candidate” (according to my parents and the Moores) had lost, what hope was there for the future?
A couple of years later I was caught in the tsunami of my oldest sister’s infatuation with Ayn Rand. I started reading the Russian émigré’s books, starting with Anthem and progressing . . . I mean regressing . . . to The Virtue of Selfishness. By the time I read The Fountainhead and Atlas Shrugged, I was completely indoctrinated. As someone who kept close tabs on his allowance and savings, I was doubly impressed when my sister started wearing a large dollar-sign brooch—Ayn Rand’s symbol of “virtue.”
Yet, as I imbibed in the libertarianism of Ayn Rand, I learned that however logical, rational, and virtuous her philosophy might sound (to someone already indoctrinated), the vast majority of people, especially those in positions of political power, were all too keen to prevent libertarianism from ever becoming mainstream. “We” the enlightened would be forever banging our heads against the brick wall of “big government,” which, unbridled, would eventually lead us to socialism, communism and destruction.
“They’ll take away our liberty, our freedoms, our way of life,” my parents (and Fred Moore) warned of the Democrats’ “grand plan” or at least the logical extension of the Democratic agenda—regulation of business, environmental protection, government programs designed to advance opportunity and conditions for the disadvantaged. It was all either terribly misguided at best or a communist plot at worst, and despite Nixon’s victory in 1968 and his landslide victory in 1972, the Democrats’ grip—the socialist threat—remained. Only Reagan’s triumph seemed to give the anti-government crowd renewed hope that maybe not all was lost.
Now fast forward to Trump II. If Ayn Rand were alive today, she’d be modeling the hero of another novel (in serious need of editing) after the Pyrite President. Her Objectivist newsletter would be attributing victory to a trifecta. The first part—a fait accompli—was the one-act chainsaw play of Elon Musk, leader of the techno-libertarians. The second part, also in the bag, was the “Big Beautiful Bill,” which picked up where DOGE left off. The third part will be post-Trump, who, given the immutable effects of age, doesn’t have the time horizon that the vice president has. Waiting in the wings for Vance’s takeover are a band of billionaire privateers salivating over the dismantling of an entity form that Rand despised; one that despite all its many shortcomings is the only entity capable of disinterested advancement and protection of the common good: government . . . accountable to the many, not the few.
At least that was the valid expectation of prior generations. In practice, since the 1980s our government’s ability to serve the common good has been diluted and diverted by a multitude of private interests that are often at odds with the common good. Because of the way political campaigns in this country are run and financed, money—staggering amounts of it—give these private interests open access to politicians and therefore, to public policy. . . er, private advantage posing as public policy.
Compounding the corruptive effect of money in elective politics is the steady increase in privatization of traditionally government-provided and government-controlled services, from privately-run security forces and prisons to education systems to technological services to—most unsettling—our currency. Even before Elon Musk’s chainsaw attack slashed the federal government workforce, the number of people who worked for private companies contracting with the federal government was double the number of federal employees. In some instances, private concerns can and do deliver better service at lower cost than the government can, but if the scale tilts too far in the direction of privatization, which it already has by a wide margin, accountability falters and private profitability overshadows, then overruns the common good.
Moreover, as regulation critical to safety, the public welfare, and creation of level playing fields is loosened or eliminated, in time the few will control more of the economy. Given how our political system is financed, the few will then control more of that system, which—going full circle—will allow them to control more of the economy.
The pieces are all now in position for achievement of the libertarian dream: The Golden Age of the Golden Rule.[2] But with this achievement comes risk. In his recent article in The Atlantic, Cullen Murphy (author of Are We Rome? The Fall of an Empire and the Fate of America) describes a conversation with the late Ramsey MacMullen, one of our era’s leading scholars of all things Roman. When Murphy asked MacMullen to summarize in one sentence the evolution of Imperial Rome [and its ultimate downfall],” the wise old professor answered, “I can do it in three words: ‘Fewer have more.’”
Subscribe to this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.
© 2025 by Eric Nilsson
[1] He was scrupulously non-partisan, however, in his public life. When he ran for re-election he didn’t seek and he wouldn’t have accepted party endorsement, and he never put up lawn signs, sported bumper stickers or wore lapel pins in favor of any candidates—Democrat or Republican—seeking elective office, high or low. But around the dinner table, where politics were often a central topic of discussion, we heard plenty of talk that was anti-Democrat and anti-government—at least anti-“big”-government, though consolidation of the public school system seemed to be my parents’ favorite example of “big” government “creep” and the threat posed by Democrats taking over control of everything.
[2] As my banking mentors drilled into me from my first day on the job, the “Golden Rule” is not the one that was borrowed from the Sermon on the Mount and imprinted on our grade school rulers. It was the principal (no pun intended) law of banking: “He who holds the gold makes the rules.”
