Picture the scene: you're in a room full of freedom-loving libertarians - the kind of crowd who unfailingly have an answer for everything - and a fundamental question surges forth from your cerebral cortex.
'Just why are freedom and the free-market so good then?' Your question is met with a mixture of sympathy and incredulity. One might think this an unparalleled opportunity to extol the virtues of personal and economic freedom and the strength of the individual. However, the response is often lacklustre. In an almost automaton-like manner, void of inspiring message or conviction, the reply comes back: 'Well, you see, Hayek/Smith/Rothbard wrote about that in his book X. It must be true – it's all there in black and white!'
A response with decided limitations. In the often bubble-like environs in which an inspiring young, politically-minded person often find themselves in, this approach tends to go off without a hitch. Fellow like-minded people nod sagely and in agreeing tones affirm: 'it's true, you know. Mises did say that'.
This effectiveness, however, tends to diminish rapidly the moment you step outside of the postcode SW1. Were a similar situation to occur in my Midland home town, your Joe Bloggs would give any combination of the following three responses: 'who?', 'eh?', or a dull, cold stare.
But nor is it just about Mr Bloggs. If students, the most likely decision-makers of the future, are to be converted to the cause of freedom and liberty, throwing around names will achieve little. There is no reason to think that the alienation many of us feel when bombarded with the names of the left-wing holy-of-holies is any less alienating than others hearing about those we hold in such high esteem.
What we need are inspiring real-life examples. There are multitudes of these wherever freedom and liberty are allowed to flourish: the men and women whose inventions, made possible through economic liberty and the freedom of capital, directly benefited themselves and society as a whole; the poets, playwrights and painters who created great works of art, unmolested by restrictions on their conscience and granted independent thought. These are our ambassadors – those who made the watch on your wrist and shoes on your feet.
It is tempting to lapse back into the self-satisfied stance of thinking that we are somehow the enlightened few compared to those who are either too idle, too dim-witted or simply too far-gone to learn about freedom. This is nothing less than a monumental mistake. Many of us bemoan Westminster for being more a political club than a functioning organ of a representative democracy. Whilst not the sole remedy to this grievance, inspiring your man and woman on street of liberty is a crucial first step. Until then, the mental shackles put in place by decades of political misdeeds do not stand a chance of being torn away.
[Deirdre McCloskey wrote a fine example of 'Factual free-market' advocacy recently. — ed]
Easy on the cheddar, chubby! Don't even think about eating those fries, fatty! Do I even have to mention the profiteroles, porky? Are these merely playground taunts? Worringly, they increasingly echo the voice of governments worldwide.
Germany is a land of environmentalists. The first successful green party in Europe, Die Grünen, won their first seats in the Bundestag in 1983 (compared to Britain's first Green MP in 2010). And much German environmentalism revolves around the rejection of nuclear power. This, when taking into account Germany's history, is not altogether surprising: Germany bowed out of World War II only four months before the first nuclear weapon was dropped on Hiroshima. Afterwards, in the Cold War era, a divided Germany found herself as the potential battleground of a full-scale nuclear war between NATO and the USSR. The seeds of nuclear-rejectionism were planted. After Chernobyl, the German neurosis took another knock.
Здравствуйте! It's 1972 and you're in Russia, in case you were wondering. So I understand you want to buy a car? Here, take this brochure. It shows you all the cars on offer. No - you haven't misread it – you can have a Lada, or a Lada, or a Lada. Which would you like? The Lada? Excellent choice. But please, take your time over the decision, there's no rush – getting any of the fine range of shoddily-built cars will take a wait upwards of five years.
The more I think about it, the more amazed I am that I was ever able to drink milk. Even from a young age, I was drinking pints of the stuff every day: on one particularly hedonistic binge aged twelve, I consumed approximately 36 Weetabix, all of which was washed down with gallons of milk. Even when I return home today I have to tell mum to buy in extra milk. All things considered, I am a big milk fan. What I find most astonishing is that this happened spontaneously. I decided, in my uncontrolled youth, that I liked milk without a government advisory panel nor supra-national entity telling me to do so.
I'm sure we can all relate to this scenario: you stroll up to the cash point and put your card in, only to be confronted by a message reading 'insufficient funds'. You ring up the bank to get to the bottom of this and, to your horror, you are told that you are $14,294,000,000,000 in red. What is the solution to this conundrum - tighten the purse-strings? Start going to Lidl instead of Waitrose? Scale back the foie-gras consumption? Of course not: the most sensible option is to borrow some more money. After all, if you owe money you may as well borrow so more to cover the gap. What could possibly go wrong with that?
Sir Bob Geldof and Lord Bono can take the day off from their quest to eliminate African poverty today. A