Principles Over Party: What It Means to Be a Libertarian Conservative
Why my Irish American Catholic roots, commitment to individual liberty, and belief in working with anyone to do right matter more to me than a political label.
Every once in a while, I hear from someone who has read one of my articles and decided they have me all figured out.
Depending on what I wrote, the issue I addressed, or the conclusion I reached, I’m a MAGA Republican. I’m a Republican. I’m a liberal. I’m too conservative for some people and not conservative enough for others.
Apparently, my political identity changes depending on which article someone happens to read.
I’ve come to find that interesting.
Not because I don’t have strong political convictions. I absolutely do. I’ve spent years working in grassroots advocacy, building coalitions, engaging with elected officials, organizing people around public policy, and trying to make government more accountable to the people it serves.
I’ve watched political debates unfold from the inside. I’ve seen how legislation gets passed, how movements gain momentum, and how political loyalties can influence people’s willingness to stand up for their own principles.
I know what I believe, and I don’t need a political party to tell me what that should be.
The truth is that I’m an Irish American Catholic Libertarian Conservative. My worldview is shaped by my faith, my heritage, my experiences, my commitment to individual liberty, and my belief that government should be held accountable to the people who pay for it.
But there’s another principle that matters just as much to me.
I believe in working with anyone who is willing to do the right thing, regardless of their political affiliation, and refusing to support wrongdoing simply because the person responsible happens to be on my side.
That philosophy is captured beautifully in a statement attributed to Frederick Douglass:
“I would unite with anybody to do right and with nobody to do wrong.”
Those words are more than a quotation to me. They’re a standard by which I try to approach politics, public policy, and the people with whom I disagree.
And if that makes me difficult to categorize in today’s political environment, so be it.
I’d rather be consistent in my principles than predictable in my partisanship.
The Problem With Political Labels
We’ve reached a point in American politics where people often decide what to think about an argument based on who they believe is making it.
If a Republican criticizes a Republican president, some conservatives accuse that person of betraying the movement.
If a conservative supports a criminal justice reform proposal, some people on the left assume there’s a hidden political motive.
If a libertarian questions government spending, someone will inevitably ask why they aren’t criticizing a different program instead.
And if you agree with someone from another political party on a particular issue, you might find yourself accused of abandoning your own side.
It’s exhausting.
More importantly, it undermines the very purpose of political debate.
We should be evaluating ideas based on their merits, evidence, consequences, and relationship to our principles. Instead, too often, we evaluate them based on whether the person proposing them belongs to the right political tribe.
Research from Pew Research Center helps illustrate the complexity of American political identity.
In its April 2024 analysis of registered voters, Pew found that 35% identified as independents or with something other than the Republican or Democratic parties, while 32% identified as Republicans and 33% as Democrats. When partisan leaners were included, 48% of registered voters identified with or leaned toward the Republican Party, compared with 49% who identified with or leaned toward the Democratic Party.
The same research found that voters’ ideological identities do not always align neatly with their party affiliations. Some Republicans describe themselves as moderate or liberal, while some Democrats describe themselves as conservative or moderate. (Pew Research Center)
That shouldn’t surprise us.
People are complicated. Our experiences shape our beliefs in ways that rarely fit perfectly into a political platform.
Someone might support free-market economics but believe government has a legitimate role in protecting civil liberties. Someone else might hold conservative views on family and faith while supporting criminal justice reform or opposing excessive government surveillance.
A person can believe in individual responsibility and still recognize that people sometimes need help.
A person can support law enforcement while believing officers and government officials must be held accountable when they violate someone’s rights.
A person can value national security while questioning whether every overseas military intervention is necessary, justified, or worth its cost.
These positions are not inherently contradictory.
They’re evidence that political thought requires more than checking a box.
The problem isn’t that Americans have complicated political beliefs. The problem is that our political culture increasingly expects them to pretend otherwise.
I refuse to do that.
What Being a Libertarian Conservative Actually Means to Me
Let me explain what I mean when I describe myself as a Libertarian Conservative.
I’m not using the term because I want to sound different, and I’m certainly not trying to invent some fashionable political identity.
I’m describing a set of principles that guide how I think about government, economics, individual rights, personal responsibility, faith, and the relationship between citizens and the institutions that exercise power over them.
At the heart of my philosophy is a straightforward question:
Where should the authority of government end, and where should the freedom and responsibility of the individual begin?
That question influences how I approach almost every public policy debate.
Individual Liberty Is Not a Partisan Issue
I believe people should be free to live their lives, pursue their ambitions, express their opinions, practice their faith, and make their own decisions without unnecessary government interference.
That freedom must exist within a framework that respects the equal rights of others and recognizes that individual liberty comes with personal responsibility.
I believe in free speech, due process, constitutional protections, and the principle that government officials should never be permitted to exercise unchecked power over the people they serve.
And I believe those protections must apply consistently.
Free speech doesn’t become less important because the person speaking holds an unpopular conservative opinion. It doesn’t become less important because someone expresses a progressive view that I strongly oppose.
Due process doesn’t become optional because a suspect is accused of committing a terrible crime.
Constitutional limits don’t disappear because a politician I support promises to accomplish something I want.
Rights that exist only for people with whom we agree aren’t rights protected by principle. They’re privileges granted by political convenience.
That distinction matters.
I’ve seen how quickly people can abandon their commitment to liberty when they believe the government is being used against someone they dislike.
But the power we hand to government today doesn’t always remain in the hands of the people we elected.
The same authority that one administration uses against its political opponents may eventually be exercised by an administration with entirely different priorities.
That’s why constitutional restraint matters regardless of who occupies the White House, controls Congress, or governs a state.
Limited government cannot simply mean limiting government when the other party is in charge.
Principles matter most when applying them becomes politically inconvenient.
Fiscal Responsibility Means Respecting the People Who Pay the Bills
I believe taxpayers deserve accountability.
Government doesn’t generate its own money. It collects resources from people who work, save, invest, build businesses, raise families, and take risks to create something of value.
Every dollar government spends represents resources that cannot be used for something else.
That doesn’t mean every government expenditure is wasteful or that every public program should be eliminated. It means spending decisions deserve serious scrutiny, transparent accounting, and measurable justification.
Are we accomplishing what we intended to accomplish?
Are taxpayers receiving a reasonable return on their investment?
Is a program addressing the problem it was created to solve?
Could the same objective be achieved more efficiently, with fewer restrictions, or closer to the communities affected?
These are reasonable questions, not radical ones.
I believe government should live within responsible fiscal limits, prioritize essential functions, and demonstrate that public money is being used effectively.
I also believe the people funding government deserve a meaningful voice in how their money is spent.
That principle is particularly important at the local level, where property taxes, municipal budgets, school spending, and infrastructure decisions directly affect household finances and the ability of small businesses to grow.
Fiscal responsibility isn’t simply about cutting numbers on a spreadsheet.
It’s about respecting the people behind those numbers.
Free Markets and Economic Opportunity Matter
I believe in entrepreneurship, private property, voluntary exchange, and the ability of people to improve their circumstances through hard work, innovation, and responsible risk-taking.
I’ve spent much of my working life around grassroots organizing, business development, and digital marketing. I’ve seen what happens when people have the opportunity to turn an idea into something real.
A small business isn’t merely a line on a tax return.
It’s someone’s savings, a family’s livelihood, an opportunity to employ a neighbor, and sometimes the beginning of a legacy that lasts for generations.
That’s why I believe government should remove unnecessary barriers to entrepreneurship rather than bury business owners under regulations they cannot reasonably navigate.
Rules can serve legitimate purposes. Protecting people from fraud, enforcing contracts, and safeguarding property rights are important functions.
But regulation can also become an excuse for protecting established interests, restricting competition, or making it harder for someone without substantial financial resources to enter a market.
We should be willing to examine those consequences honestly.
I want an economy where people have the freedom to build something, where competition rewards innovation, and where success doesn’t depend on having the right political connections.
I also believe that personal responsibility matters.
Freedom gives us the opportunity to make decisions. Responsibility requires us to live with their consequences, honor our commitments, and recognize that our choices affect other people.
A healthy free society needs both.
Government Must Be Accountable, Regardless of Party
One of the most frustrating things about modern politics is watching people defend conduct they would condemn if the other party were responsible.
A Republican administration expands executive power, and some Republicans celebrate it.
A Democratic administration does the same thing, and those same powers suddenly become a constitutional emergency.
The reverse happens just as often.
The problem isn’t exclusive to one party. It’s a recurring feature of partisan politics.
My approach is different.
I believe government should be transparent, officials should be accountable, and public institutions should operate within their lawful authority.
I believe law enforcement deserves respect for the difficult work it performs, while also believing that no badge, title, or position of authority should place someone above the law.
I believe national security matters, but so do privacy, civil liberties, and constitutional safeguards.
I believe government has legitimate responsibilities, but those responsibilities do not give it unlimited authority.
And I believe voters should hold elected officials accountable for what they actually do, not merely reward them for what they promise or excuse them because they belong to the preferred party.
Supporting a politician is not the same thing as surrendering your principles to one.
I can agree with an elected official on nine issues and criticize that same official on the tenth.
That’s not inconsistency.
That’s independent judgment.
My Catholic Faith Is Part of My Political Philosophy
I cannot fully explain who I am politically without explaining something about my faith.
I’m a Catholic, and my faith is an important part of how I understand human dignity, moral responsibility, family, community, and the obligations we have toward one another.
My Irish American Catholic roots are part of that story, too.
My heritage connects me to generations of people whose experiences remind me that freedom, faith, family, and cultural identity are not abstract concepts. They’re things people carry with them through difficult circumstances, preserve across generations, and sometimes struggle to protect.
But I don’t believe faith should be reduced to a political label.
Catholicism is not a party platform.
The Catholic intellectual tradition includes a rich body of thought about human dignity, solidarity, subsidiarity, the common good, economic justice, and the responsibilities that accompany ownership and political authority.
Those principles don’t always fit neatly into the familiar categories of American partisan debate.
Consider subsidiarity, the principle that decisions should generally be made at the lowest competent level rather than unnecessarily concentrated in higher authorities.
That idea resonates with my belief in local self-government, strong families, community institutions, and limits on centralized power.
It encourages us to ask whether a problem can be addressed by individuals, families, local organizations, or municipal institutions before assuming that a distant government agency must take control.
At the same time, the Catholic tradition’s emphasis on solidarity reminds us that human beings are not isolated individuals who owe nothing to their neighbors.
We have responsibilities to one another.
Human dignity matters. The vulnerable deserve consideration. Families and communities need institutions that help them flourish.
The challenge is figuring out how to uphold those responsibilities while respecting freedom, human agency, and the legitimate limits of political authority.
I don’t pretend that every policy question has an easy answer.
I do believe that we should approach those questions with humility, compassion, and a willingness to consider both the intended benefits and the unintended consequences of our decisions.
My faith informs my conscience.
It doesn’t relieve me of the responsibility to think critically.
And it certainly doesn’t require me to agree with every politician who invokes the same religious language.
If someone talks about faith but treats other people with contempt, I believe there’s a legitimate reason to question the disconnect between their rhetoric and their conduct.
Faith should influence how we treat people, including those with whom we disagree.
Otherwise, what exactly are we demonstrating?
My Irish American Roots Taught Me That Identity Matters
I’m proud of my Irish American heritage.
My mother’s family traces its Irish roots to County Donegal, including Inishowen. My father’s family carries French-Canadian roots. Both sides of my family history are part of the cultural and personal foundation that shaped me.
Heritage is more than a surname or a flag displayed on a holiday.
It’s the stories passed down through families, the traditions that survive changing circumstances, the values we inherit, and the lessons we carry into our own lives.
For me, Irish heritage is connected to perseverance, family, faith, community, and the importance of remembering where we came from.
But I also recognize something important about identity.
Understanding your own roots shouldn’t make you less capable of understanding someone else’s.
It should do the opposite.
When you appreciate the experiences that shaped your own family, you’re better positioned to recognize that other people have histories, traditions, hardships, and aspirations that matter to them just as deeply.
You don’t have to share someone’s background to respect it.
You don’t have to agree with someone’s politics to recognize their humanity.
And you don’t have to abandon your own convictions to find common ground with someone whose life experiences are different from yours.
America has always been a country of people bringing different histories, cultures, faith traditions, and perspectives into a shared civic life.
We won’t always agree about what that shared life should look like.
But we should be able to disagree without treating our neighbors as enemies.
My heritage is part of who I am.
It is not a reason to look down on anyone else.
Why I Believe in Frederick Douglass’s Model of Cooperation
This brings me to a principle that has influenced how I approach public policy and grassroots advocacy.
Frederick Douglass famously declared, “I would unite with anybody to do right and with nobody to do wrong.”
The historical context makes those words especially powerful.
Douglass was an abolitionist, a formerly enslaved man who became one of America’s most influential writers, orators, and advocates for human freedom. His willingness to work with people across ideological and political divides was rooted in his determination to advance a cause he considered morally essential.
He understood that meaningful progress sometimes required cooperation with people who did not share every one of his beliefs.
That didn’t mean abandoning his principles.
It meant refusing to let ideological purity become an obstacle to doing what was right.
I believe that’s a lesson American politics desperately needs.
Too many people approach political cooperation as if it’s a betrayal.
They assume that working with someone from another party means endorsing that person’s entire worldview.
They believe that if you agree with an opponent on one issue, you must have compromised your beliefs on everything else.
But that’s not how meaningful progress happens.
If we want to solve real problems, we have to be willing to work with people who bring different experiences, priorities, and perspectives to the table.
We have to distinguish between an honest disagreement and a genuine obstacle to progress.
And we have to recognize that agreement on one issue doesn’t require complete agreement on every other issue.
I don’t need someone to share my entire political philosophy before I can work with them to accomplish something worthwhile.
If a progressive, a moderate Democrat, a traditional Republican, a Libertarian, or an independent is willing to work toward a policy that protects individual rights, improves government accountability, or helps solve a problem in our community, I’m willing to have that conversation.
I’ll evaluate the proposal on its merits.
I’ll ask questions.
I’ll examine the details.
I’ll consider the consequences.
And if I believe the effort is worthwhile, I’ll work with them.
But the same principle works in reverse.
If someone from my own political camp proposes something that violates individual liberty, undermines constitutional protections, wastes taxpayer money, or concentrates government power without sufficient justification, I’m not obligated to support it merely because we share a party affiliation.
Cooperation doesn’t mean unconditional agreement.
It doesn’t mean abandoning your convictions to maintain access to political leaders.
And it certainly doesn’t mean ignoring wrongdoing because confronting it might make your allies uncomfortable.
It means being willing to work together where our principles and objectives align while remaining honest about where they don’t.
That is how I understand Douglass’s example.
Not as an invitation to compromise everything, but as a reminder that the pursuit of what is right must matter more than the comfort of political tribalism.
I’ve Built My Career on Working Across the Aisle
My belief in working across political lines isn’t something I developed by reading a book or observing politics from a distance.
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It’s a philosophy I’ve tried to put into practice throughout my career.
My professional background includes grassroots organizing, public policy advocacy, coalition-building, digital engagement, and working with people who approach political questions from very different perspectives.
I’ve worked with people who disagreed with me on plenty of issues.
I’ve had conversations with people whose political priorities were different from mine, whose life experiences were different from mine, and whose understanding of government sometimes differed dramatically from my own.
And I’ve learned something important along the way.
You can disagree with someone on a dozen issues and still find a meaningful reason to work together on the thirteenth.
You can have a productive conversation without pretending your disagreements don’t exist.
You can build trust without demanding ideological conformity.
And you can accomplish something worthwhile without requiring everyone involved to sign on to an entire political platform.
One of the most meaningful examples of this approach in my own work came through my involvement in the coalition behind New Mexico’s 2021 Civil Rights Act.
The work surrounding criminal justice and civil rights can involve difficult questions about individual liberty, government accountability, public safety, and the proper limits of official authority.
People can approach those questions from different ideological starting points and still recognize the importance of examining the law, its consequences, and the principles behind it.
That experience reinforced my belief that policy work should begin with the substance of the issue rather than assumptions about the people advocating for it.
It also helped shape my understanding of coalition-building.
A coalition doesn’t require everyone to think alike.
It requires people to identify a shared objective, establish enough common ground to work toward it, and remain focused on the outcome they are trying to achieve.
That’s a fundamentally different approach from demanding that everyone agree on everything before the conversation can begin.
Throughout my career, I’ve seen how much more productive people can be when they stop trying to win every argument and start looking for opportunities to solve actual problems.
That doesn’t mean every disagreement disappears.
It means we stop treating disagreement as proof that cooperation is impossible.
And that distinction matters far beyond politics.
It matters in business, in our communities, in our families, and in the everyday relationships that hold a society together.
I Can Work With Someone Without Becoming Someone Else
Let me make something clear.
My willingness to work across the aisle does not mean I’m politically neutral.
It doesn’t mean I have no convictions.
It doesn’t mean I believe every political position is equally valid or that every disagreement can be resolved through a friendly conversation.
Some disagreements involve fundamental questions of liberty, constitutional government, human dignity, and the appropriate use of state power.
Those questions deserve serious debate.
Sometimes, after examining the evidence and the arguments, we will still disagree.
That’s fine.
The objective isn’t to eliminate every disagreement. It’s to create a political culture in which people can disagree honestly, work together when possible, and hold one another accountable when necessary.
I can respect a Democrat without adopting the Democratic Party’s platform.
I can work with a Republican without endorsing every Republican policy.
I can find common ground with a progressive on civil liberties while disagreeing with that person’s economic philosophy.
I can agree with a conservative on fiscal responsibility while questioning that person’s position on executive power.
I can cooperate with someone on a specific piece of legislation without becoming an advocate for everything that person believes.
These distinctions should be obvious.
Unfortunately, they often get lost in an environment where people are encouraged to interpret every interaction as a declaration of political allegiance.
Here’s how I see it.
My principles determine whom I’m willing to work with. Other people’s political labels do not determine what I believe.
That approach allows me to build relationships with people across the political spectrum without constantly worrying about whether someone might misunderstand my willingness to cooperate.
If an idea is sound, I want to examine it.
If a policy can protect people’s rights or improve their lives, I want to understand how it works.
If someone has a better argument than mine, I want to hear it.
And if the evidence shows that I’ve gotten something wrong, I want to be willing to admit it.
That’s not weakness.
It’s intellectual honesty.
Why My Articles Sometimes Make Different People Uncomfortable
If you’ve read several of my articles, you’ve probably noticed that I don’t approach every subject from the same partisan angle.
Sometimes I criticize Republicans.
Sometimes I criticize Democrats.
Sometimes I defend an individual liberty principle that puts me at odds with conservatives who otherwise share many of my views.
Sometimes I support a policy reform that earns agreement from people on the left even though we may disagree about its underlying philosophy.
And sometimes I challenge an argument that appears popular within my own political circles.
That isn’t an accident.
I’m not trying to manufacture controversy or appeal to every political audience.
I’m trying to evaluate each issue honestly.
When I write about government spending, I examine fiscal responsibility and the obligations public officials have to taxpayers.
When I write about civil liberties, I examine the constitutional principles involved and the consequences of government action.
When I write about business and economic opportunity, I consider the importance of competition, entrepreneurship, private property, and unnecessary regulatory burdens.
When I write about faith and family, I draw on the values that have shaped my understanding of human dignity, moral responsibility, and community.
Different issues require different analysis.
A consistent philosophy doesn’t mean reaching the same political conclusion every time. It means applying the same underlying principles to different circumstances.
If I criticize government overreach when Democrats exercise power, I should criticize it when Republicans do the same.
If I believe people deserve due process when they belong to a group I support, I should defend that principle when they belong to a group I oppose.
If I believe taxpayers deserve transparency, I shouldn’t stop asking questions because the spending benefits a political cause I favor.
And if I believe government officials should be accountable, I shouldn’t excuse misconduct because the official has an R after their name instead of a D.
That’s what consistency looks like.
It isn’t blind loyalty to a party.
It’s fidelity to a standard.
I don’t expect everyone to agree with my conclusions. I welcome thoughtful disagreement.
But I do hope readers will judge my arguments by their substance rather than deciding in advance what they mean based on a political label.
Read the argument.
Examine the evidence.
Challenge the reasoning.
Tell me where you think I’ve gotten something wrong.
That’s a far more productive conversation than deciding I’m a liberal because I criticized a Republican or a MAGA Republican because I defended a conservative principle.
You Don’t Have to Choose Between Conviction and Compassion
There’s another misconception about principled politics that I think deserves attention.
People sometimes assume that holding strong convictions requires treating those who disagree with you as adversaries.
I reject that idea.
You can believe deeply in limited government while caring about people facing difficult circumstances.
You can support personal responsibility while recognizing that circumstances aren’t identical for everyone.
You can defend religious freedom while respecting the right of others to practice a different faith or no faith at all.
You can advocate for constitutional limits while recognizing that government has legitimate responsibilities.
You can believe in free markets while acknowledging that economic decisions have consequences for families and communities.
You can disagree with someone’s political philosophy without questioning their intelligence, character, or worth as a human being.
None of those positions requires abandoning your convictions.
They require recognizing that political disagreements occur between human beings, not merely between competing collections of talking points.
My Catholic faith reinforces that understanding.
My Irish American heritage reminds me that family, community, and cultural identity are important parts of people’s lives.
My Libertarian Conservative philosophy reminds me that freedom and personal responsibility must remain central to how we organize society.
And my experience in grassroots advocacy has taught me that people are often more willing to listen when they believe you’re willing to listen to them, too.
That doesn’t guarantee agreement.
It creates the possibility of understanding.
Sometimes, that’s where meaningful progress begins.
The Country Doesn’t Need More Political Purity Tests
I’m concerned about a political culture that increasingly rewards people for demonstrating loyalty rather than exercising independent judgment.
When politicians become more important than principles, accountability suffers.
When political identity becomes more important than evidence, public debate deteriorates.
When cooperation is treated as betrayal, opportunities for meaningful reform disappear.
And when people become convinced that everyone who disagrees with them is acting in bad faith, we lose the ability to distinguish between a genuine threat and an honest difference of opinion.
None of this means political differences are unimportant.
They matter enormously.
Public policy affects people’s livelihoods, constitutional rights, families, businesses, communities, and opportunities for future generations.
We should debate those issues vigorously.
We should challenge bad arguments.
We should demand evidence.
We should hold elected officials accountable.
And we should vote according to our best judgment.
But we should also remember that the people on the other side of a political argument are still our fellow citizens.
They’re our neighbors, coworkers, friends, and sometimes members of our own families.
They may have grown up in different circumstances. They may have experienced hardships we have never known. They may prioritize different concerns because their lives have taught them different lessons.
We don’t have to agree with them to recognize that reality.
And we don’t have to surrender our principles to work toward a shared objective.
In fact, the ability to cooperate without abandoning our convictions is one of the most important skills a democratic society can develop.
I would rather work alongside someone who disagrees with me on most issues but approaches a shared objective honestly than refuse to cooperate with that person simply because they belong to the wrong political party.
That doesn’t mean I trust everyone automatically.
Trust should be earned.
It means I refuse to assume that political disagreement makes cooperation impossible.
So, What Am I?
If you’ve made it this far, you might be wondering how I would answer the question that started this article.
Am I a MAGA Republican?
Am I a traditional Republican?
Am I a liberal?
Am I something else entirely?
My answer is straightforward.
I’m a Libertarian Conservative.
I’m an Irish American Catholic whose faith, family, heritage, and experiences have shaped the way I understand the world.
I’m someone who believes in individual liberty, limited government, constitutional accountability, fiscal responsibility, free markets, personal responsibility, and the importance of protecting the rights of every American.
I believe government should be powerful enough to perform its legitimate responsibilities but constrained enough to prevent the abuse of that power.
I believe elected officials should be judged by their actions rather than their rhetoric.
I believe people should be free to pursue their ambitions, build businesses, practice their faith, express their opinions, and make decisions about their own lives while respecting the equal rights of others.
I believe our country needs more accountability and less blind political loyalty.
I believe our communities are stronger when people take responsibility for one another without assuming that every problem requires a new government program or a distant authority.
And I believe that working with someone doesn’t require agreeing with everything they believe.
Most importantly, I believe principles should be applied consistently, even when doing so creates uncomfortable political conversations.
Those beliefs don’t fit perfectly into every Republican platform.
They don’t fit perfectly into every Democratic platform, either.
That’s not a problem I feel obligated to solve.
Political parties are organizations. They develop platforms, recruit candidates, build coalitions, and compete for power.
Ideologies are frameworks for understanding how society should function.
Personal convictions are the standards by which we decide what we believe is right.
Those things can overlap without being identical.
I may vote for a Republican. I may support a particular policy championed by a Democrat. I may work alongside an independent. I may disagree with all three on another issue.
None of those circumstances automatically changes my underlying philosophy.
My job isn’t to make every article fit neatly within a party’s messaging strategy.
My responsibility is to think critically, examine the evidence, apply my principles, and make the best argument I can.
You are free to agree or disagree with my conclusions.
I’d encourage you to do both at different times.
But please don’t assume that one article tells you everything you need to know about my political identity.
And please don’t mistake my willingness to work across the aisle for a lack of conviction.
Sometimes, the willingness to cooperate is the clearest expression of conviction there is.
Principles Over Party. Always.
I’ll close where I began, with Frederick Douglass.
His words remain a powerful reminder that the pursuit of what is right should never be subordinated to the demands of political tribalism.
“I would unite with anybody to do right and with nobody to do wrong.”
I believe we could accomplish a great deal if more Americans approached politics with that philosophy.
Imagine a country where Republicans and Democrats could work together on a worthwhile reform without immediately being accused of betraying their respective parties.
Imagine elected officials who were willing to criticize their own side when it violated constitutional principles.
Imagine public debates in which people evaluated proposals based on evidence, consequences, and individual liberty rather than the political identity of the person making the argument.
Imagine communities where neighbors could disagree about national politics but still work together to improve their schools, support struggling families, strengthen local businesses, and address problems affecting the places they call home.
None of that requires us to abandon our convictions.
It requires us to remember what our convictions are supposed to accomplish.
For me, the answer begins with liberty, responsibility, human dignity, faith, and accountable government.
It continues with the recognition that no political party has a monopoly on good ideas, and no political movement deserves unconditional loyalty.
And it requires the humility to acknowledge that someone who disagrees with me today might have a valuable insight tomorrow.
I’ll continue to criticize Republicans when I believe they’re wrong.
I’ll continue to criticize Democrats when I believe they’re wrong.
I’ll continue to support policies I believe advance liberty and accountability, regardless of which party proposes them.
And I’ll continue working with people across the political spectrum whenever we can find common ground worth pursuing.
Not because my principles are negotiable.
Because they aren’t.
I’m not interested in winning a political identity contest.
I’m interested in helping build a country where individual liberty is protected, government is accountable, communities can flourish, and people are free to disagree without becoming enemies.
If that makes me difficult to categorize, I can live with that.
I’d rather be known for what I stand for than for the political label someone else assigns me.
I’m a Libertarian Conservative. I’m an Irish American Catholic. And I’m committed to the principle that doing what is right matters more than proving loyalty to a political tribe.
Work with anyone to do right.
Work with no one to do harm.
And never confuse loyalty to a party with loyalty to your principles.
