Rethinking Engagement: Awe Over Anger in Libertarian Discourse
In my previous entry, I delved into the disheartening efficacy of rage bait in political discourse, particularly within libertarian circles. Too often, discussions veer into the territory of “look at this outrageous action by the government,” effectively stoking anger rather than fostering thoughtful engagement. While some might frame these narratives as tragic cautionary tales, they often fall flat; evoking sadness tends to drive away engagement. Another common tactic, which I find particularly tiresome, is the assertion that anyone who disagrees is either foolish or malicious. Neither approach resonates with me or seems productive.
However, it’s not all doom and gloom—there exists at least one promising alternative to the prevailing rage bait paradigm that could invigorate libertarian ideas. A study I referenced earlier points to a form of engagement that rivals anger in its motivational power: awe. As illustrated in Figure 2 on page 8, while anger is undeniably potent, awe comes in as a close second.
This is a fertile ground for libertarian thought. Take Leonard Read’s timeless essay, I, Pencil, which endures because its core message, when fully grasped, is genuinely awe-inspiring. The concepts of decentralized order and spontaneous coordination can similarly evoke a sense of wonder. My own sense of awe was ignited when I encountered Elinor Ostrom’s work, which challenged the notion that collective action issues could only be resolved through coercive, top-down methods, demonstrating instead how individuals can forge voluntary, decentralized solutions.
Friedrich Hayek intuitively grasped this notion, as evidenced in his essay The Use of Knowledge in Society, where he describes the price mechanism as a “marvel.” He elaborates:
I have deliberately used the word “marvel” to shock the reader out of the complacency with which we often take the working of this mechanism for granted. I am convinced that if it were the result of deliberate human design, and if the people guided by the price changes understood that their decisions have significance far beyond their immediate aim, this mechanism would have been acclaimed as one of the greatest triumphs of the human mind.
In my own attempts to contribute to this inspiring dialogue, I once reflected on something as seemingly mundane as bananas. Picture this: on a frigid winter day in Minnesota, I can stroll into any local grocery store and purchase seven pounds of fresh tropical fruit for just three dollars. Now, that’s remarkable!
Ultimately, I posit that awe surpasses anger as a strategic approach. For starters, it fosters a healthier psychological environment. Indulging in anger, both personally and collectively, is a dismal way to navigate our finite lives. As comedian Patton Oswalt once quipped to a heckler, “You’re going to miss everything cool, and die angry.” More crucially, awe possesses a durability that anger lacks. The latter is an ephemeral flame, often flickering out just as quickly as it ignites, leading to a cultural landscape that shifts from one outrage to the next. Awe, on the other hand, has the profound ability to captivate our imaginations for a lifetime.
