The worst act of government suppression

The government is suppressing us, but not in the way that you think.

Arguably, the worst act of government suppression is happening right under our noses without us ever noticing it — namely, government suppression of creativity, ingenuity, and entrepreneurship.

In a recent episode of the “Ezra Klein Show,” biotech entrepreneur turned right-wing provocateur Vivek Ramaswamy sparred with the host, Mr. Klein, who lamented the perceived hypocrisy of Elon Musk’s stance against government subsidies, considering his extensive reliance on such subsidies to launch and support Tesla and SpaceX.

It was a painful debate. It made me wonder: Have we really entered such an infecund age that Musk-sized success is only possible with the help of the government?

Of course, the owner of “X” is an industrious man. He’s by no means what we might call a “welfare king” — someone who zaps government benefits and gives nothing in return. Nevertheless, there’s no denying that Musk’s world-leading companies have benefitted greatly from government programs, which, from the traditional, conservative perspective, should not even exist.

The more concerning problem, of course, is that, unlike Musk, most Americans won’t even try.

Historically, American Exceptionalism has always stemmed from the courage and determination of everyday men and women — bold pilgrims, pioneers, and adventurers — who risked everything to work, build, and invest in this land. For generations, that is what it meant to pursue the American Dream. However, somewhere along the way, the American entrepreneurial spirit gave way to a nation of ungrateful beneficiaries, unmotivated layabouts, and perpetual critics of the principles that made us the richest, most prosperous nation in history.

As Ben Shapiro recently pointed out, such people “owe no duty to their civilization — no duty to the people around them. They do not believe that they owe it to themselves or to their community to be pioneers, to build things, to make things better, to go to work. They are owed something, and if they don’t get that thing, they are angry at the civilization that has not given them that thing.”

But where did this mentality come from?

It arises from the big-government belief that citizens of the United States (and, increasingly, non-citizens) are owed something from Uncle Sam’s coffers.

President Lyndon B. Johnson, the architect of the unrealized “Great Society,” articulated this transformation in American political thought, perhaps inadvertently, better than anyone. Amazingly, in his Great Society speeches, Johnson borrowed heavily from the rhetoric of the American pioneers.

“For a century we labored to settle and to subdue a continent,” he said. “Those who came to this land sought to build more than just a new country. They sought a new world. So I have come here today… to say that you can make their vision our reality. So let us from this moment begin our work so that in the future men will look back and say: It was then, after a long and weary way, that man turned the exploits of his genius to the full enrichment of his life.”

Paradoxically, though, Johnson’s sweeping pioneer imagery engendered a very different result: a cowardly, parasitical spirit. His version of “pioneering” called for merely spreading the wealth obtained by past generations.

“The Great Society,” he said, “rests on abundance… for all.”

The Founders never promised that. Liberty and justice for all, yes. But abundance? How practically speaking, was a constitutionally limited government ever supposed to secure abundance for all?

The very proposition, while seemingly well-meaning in Johnson’s speeches, is suspiciously fanciful upon closer examination.

Johnson and his ideological predecessors reshaped the people’s expectations of their government. By the Framers’ design, the federal government did not give the people anything; it only secured what was already theirs. But Woodrow Wilson promised a “New Freedom,” boldly contending that “law in our day must come to the assistance of the individual. It must come to his assistance to see that he gets fair play,” he continued. “Freedom to-day is something more than being let alone. The program of a government of freedom must in these days be positive, not negative merely.” Similarly, Franklin Roosevelt promised a “second Bill of Rights,” arguing that the first Bill of Rights “proved inadequate to assure us equality in the pursuit of happiness.” And Johnson, as we have already seen, promised abundance for all.

This new way of thinking proved devastating for the American way of life. It would mean that everyone was owed something (positive rights, abundance) by their government, which would mean that no one would have to work for it, which, of course, would cancel the pioneering spirit.

I’ve often observed that past generations appeared more patriotic when they focused less on what the government gave them. Take Abraham Lincoln, for example. He did not love this country because it gave him a leg up or paid his bills. It certainly was not because it afforded him “abundance.” He loved this country because of the principles of the Declaration of Independence. The very fact that he was alive in this country was enough to enthrall him.

But that is not enough for us anymore. Now, because men like Wilson, Roosevelt, and Johnson equated material success with the Founding principles, we assume that the Founding principles are at fault if we do not obtain, in Roosevelt’s words, “The right to adequate medical care and the opportunity to achieve and enjoy good health; The right to adequate protection from the economic fears of old age, sickness, accident, and unemployment; The right to a good education,” etc., etc.

We have lost our drive to dream, innovate, and build with our own two hands. We have lost the drive to push the boundaries of what anyone thinks is impossible. Why? Because we have grown accustomed to a government that fills in the gap wherever we fail to act — a benevolent, pseudo-tyrannical nanny state that spoon-feeds us and shields us from the risks and dangers of the uncharted frontier.

We may not see that as an act of suppression. But indeed, the American pioneering spirit has been effectively stifled at the hands of a government that promises us a safe, cushy, padded life.

We need a new path forward — a passport to bold, intrepid, dangerous entrepreneurship reborn. Perhaps we should begin by calling an Article V convention.