Libertarians are an odd bunch. They, out of all the fringe political ideologies, probably have the most diverse and negative stereotypes. You have the gun-toting yahoo with a “Don’t Tread on Me” flag posted on his living room wall. There’s the upper-middle class white college student straight out of Econ 101 who watches South Park religiously and feels superior to both conservatives and liberals. Then there’s the conspiracy theorist mumbling about chemtrails and the globalists controlling the central banks. And then there are the marginally normal Republican Libertarians whose policies are somewhat more palpable to the masses.

I have run into a number of individuals in college whose beliefs are so esoteric, I only encountered with them on the Internet. These people are especially prominent on the intellectual/political scene. I’ve debated everybody from the proud Catholic monarchist to the self-described Communist. But my relationships with these fringe ideologies are not as love-hate as my relationship with Libertarianism.

I have a soft spot for Libertarianism. Though I stand with the majority and point and laugh, I do so with love. I do so because, not too long ago, I was one of them.

It all started twelfth grade year. I was impressionable. I don’t know how my passion for policy was piqued. All I remember was that it evolved from my love for history. I wanted to know who gets what and why. My father saw my Amazon orders for entry-level books like “Basic Economics” and “Free to Choose,” and so must have figured I was developing a new interest. So, when we as a family went to lunch after my high school graduation, he surprised me with a cardboard box filled with economic literature.

Giving me the box was like throwing a canteen of gasoline onto a bonfire. My passion consumed me. That summer before college was a blur, except for those moments when, while reading, a moment of excitement and discovery came over me. The way Milton Friedman and Thomas Sowell demonstrated the remarkable power of market forces as the motor powering history was revelatory. I read straight through the entirety of that box and then some over the entire summer before college. I made it a goal of mine to read one-hundred pages a day because I wanted to learn as much as possible before college. This knowledge was sacred enough to where I was writing down important information onto a yellow notepad while reading to better digest the information.

My love for the free-market was white-hot; everybody needed to know about this world-changing information. I then set about as an acolyte of Friedman, lighting the way for those shrouded in the political darkness of government regulation. If this description sounds at all self-congratulatory, don’t worry, it was. I became so zealous to the point where reality was black and white. The ineffectiveness of a society was proportionate to how much government intervened. I believed the only role the federal government should perform was to enforce contracts and by God that was all it should do.

Thank goodness I cooled down when I started college. Though I cooled down, I did meet students still going through the same phase. They, too, were enraptured with the free market, believing it could do no wrong. Many of them mellowed out throughout freshman year though. Some of them became normal Republicans while others took a left turn and became Democrats.

I’ve noticed that many economics enthusiasts who grew up in conservative households started out as Libertarians. Hardcore Libertarianism can be compared to as an adolescent-like phase. Many of us have gone through it at some point. My conservative friends went through it as well as my friends on the center-left. Even a few of my friends who self-identify as Marxists awkwardly disclosed their Libertarian phase to me. It is understandable why many of us start out as Libertarians. It’s an ideology that extols the powers of the free market. Many people leave Econ 101 as Libertarians because that’s where we first learn how incredible the free market is.

Libertarians are passionate, if nothing else.

Now does that passion translate to sensible policy? No, probably not. The real world is infinitely more complex than a supply and demand chart lets on. I can’t fault them though. It’s easy to get swept up in one’s enthusiasm to the point where your worldview is the only sensible one. It’s not something to be commended nor condemned; it’s human nature.

Fortunately, human nature is malleable and people mature. As all passions do, that white-hot flame cools down and most people moderate. That’s what happened to me and many of my friends. For most, that enthusiasm and idealism powering Libertarianism can only persist for so long.

I envy them in that many of them are still enraptured with the “market can do know wrong” worldview. It’s convenient and simplifies everything.

But this is not to discredit Libertarian’s intellectual history. Many Libertarians are well-meaning and fiercely intelligent people. Milton Friedman, one of the most influential economists of all time, was a self-described Libertarian. And I’d have to be dense to call him of all people stupid. The sentiment applies to many other self-described Libertarians, some of whom are my friends.

I do think though that it’s interesting that me, many of my friends, and a great many intellectuals and public figures whom I have come to admire all started their intellectual journey as Libertarians. Though I poke fun and believe they’re wrong about many things, there’s a level of underlying fondness underneath the snark. At the end of the day, most of them are well-meaning and intelligent people at different steps on their intellectual journey. And so, I wish them the best of luck. In the meantime though, let’s keep them out of public office.