To celebrate America's 250th birthday, I wanted to remember and celebrate the philosophy that underpins this country: liberalism, which, in my opinion, is a philosophy that all people and all nations have advocated in different ways.
Indeed, I claim everyone from Jesus, who urged, “Do unto others as you’d have done unto you,” to the Sufi saint Bulleh Shah, who preached, "Destroy the mosque and the temple, but don’t break a human’s heart," as liberals, for their thinking was deeply rooted in kindness and generosity. This, as we shall see, is the original—ancient—meaning of liberalism.
What is Liberalism?
There is hardly any consensus about what liberalism means today. Indeed, everyone has made up their own definition. For example, in the 20th century, both laissez-faire (small-government) economists and socialist ideologues claimed their positions were liberal. Liberalism, as we will see, in its original and ancient conception, was more an attitude than any set of policies. Thus, both laissez-faire economists and socialists are free to call themselves liberals if they are motivated by the liberal sensibility. So, what is the liberal sensibility?
“The word “liberalism” did not even exist until the early nineteenth century, and for hundreds of years prior to its birth, being liberal meant something very different. For almost two thousand years, it meant demonstrating the virtues of a citizen, showing devotion to the common good, and respecting the importance of mutual connectedness. [...] The word stems from the Latin term liber, meaning both “free” and “generous”” (Helena Rosenblatt, The Lost History of Liberalism, 2018, p 8).
Liberalism naturally branched into various traditions because it began as a pursuit of specific virtues. Freedom was valued not for personal whim but as a means of self-improvement and of fostering generosity and kindness, qualities considered essential for a harmonious society, as vital to human flourishing as water is to fish.
The core liberal mandate—free and generous—is broad, and its adherents often ended up doing rather illiberal things in implementing it. Liberalism, like any philosophy, must contend with its ideological extremes, the edge cases where the broad philosophy is hard to apply clearly.
For these and other reasons, liberalism sometimes led to destructive outcomes: the French Revolution's fight against monarchy ultimately enabled Napoleon's tyranny, and Weimar Germany's democracy succumbed to populist fervour, paving the way for Hitler's regime.
The adage that the road to hell is paved with good intentions is relevant here. Much of the malaise afflicting modern liberalism stems from taking these original virtues past their functional limits. We will explore this further later.
For now, we note that liberalism stands in contrast to the other major twentieth-century philosophies because its emotional core is not fear, not suspicion, but openness and love.
"During the twentieth century, the three grand stories emerged: the fascist story, the communist story, and the liberal story. The fascist story explained history as a struggle among different nations or races [...]. The communist story explained history as a struggle among different classes [...]. The liberal story envisioned a world in which all humans cooperate freely and peacefully [...]" (Yuval Noah Harari, 21 Lessons for the 21st Century, 2018, p. 11).
Liberalism, at its core, doesn’t offer an end-state vision of the world like communism or fascism—the poor will rule, the strong will rule—it offers us a certain sensibility whose more modern exposition can be summarised as follows:
"Liberalism is not just a set of rules. There’s a spirit to it. A spirit that believes that there are whole spheres of human life that lie beyond ideology — friendship, art, love, sex, scholarship, family. A spirit that seeks not to impose orthodoxy but to open up the possibilities of the human mind and soul. A spirit that seeks moral clarity but understands that this is very hard, that life and history are complex, and it is this complexity that a truly liberal society seeks to understand if it wants to advance.” (Andrew Sullivan, "Is There Still Room for Debate?", New York Magazine, June 2020).
America as the Liberal Hegemon
The resentment directed towards the United States, both domestically and internationally, is largely rooted in its status as the world’s reigning hegemon and its ability to impose its will. While the country has certainly erred, shamefully in some ways, many critics rely on impossible moral standards to brand it an "evil empire". To reach a fairer verdict, one must measure America’s record against that of other global powers rather than against a theoretical moral ideal.
“Ezra Klein (New York Times writer/podcaster): There's always been this leftist critique that the story of America's humanitarian vision is false—that Trump is America with the mask off.
Fareed Zakaria: I totally disagree. You can only compare hegemons to other hegemons. Has the United States been qualitatively different as a global power compared with the Soviet Union, Nazi Germany, or imperial powers like Britain and France? Those were rapacious colonial empires. The United States used its power to rebuild Europe and bring East Asia out of poverty. Of course, we made mistakes. When you have an ideological conception of your foreign policy, you end up destroying villages in Vietnam to save them from communists. But in the broad continuity of history, look at what we used our power for. Until World War II, every winning power extracted tribute from the losers. I see the argument about American hypocrisy, but in a broader historical sense [comparing America to other hegemons], the United States has a lot to be proud of.” (The Ezra Klein Show Podcast, the 10th of April 2026).
What’s Wrong with Liberalism Today?
Adrian Wooldridge, a political historian, in his 2026 work The Revolutionary Center: The Lost Genius of Liberalism, contends that the current malaise within liberalism is largely a product of the current liberal establishment's shortcomings. These elites, having dominated the political landscape for decades, succumbed to insularity, self-interest, and groupthink, ultimately displaying illiberal tendencies.
Liberalism used to be the "battering ram against the establishment," attacking inherited privilege and monopoly power, but today it is identified mostly with the establishment (corporations, universities, and media). It must find its radicalism again.
"Nietzsche prefigured a standard modern complaint when he pointed out that ‘liberal institutions immediately cease to be liberal as soon as they are attained’. Liberals might talk about ‘freedom’ and ‘pluralism’, but they are almost as intolerant of heterodoxy as the medieval Catholic Church or the Soviet regime. Try supporting immigration control or opposing abortion rights in liberal watering holes. Liberals might talk about justice and equality, but they always have a way of coming out on top. The quintessential image of modern liberalism is the billionaire taking a private jet to Davos to deliver a speech on climate change." (Adrian Wooldridge, The Revolutionary Center, 2026, p. 209).
How to Fix Liberalism
A consensus is emerging on how to correct course: reforming or replacing the elites and institutions that have squandered public trust. If the liberal establishment refuses to undertake this reform, illiberal populists will happily do the job by dismantling the system entirely. David Frum’s prescient warning from 2019 regarding immigration captures this dynamic: if liberals refuse to protect the border, fascists eventually will.
“For today’s Democrats, that means this: If people rightly distrust establishment institutions and you are the party of the establishment institutions, then you have to be the party of thoroughgoing reform. You have to say that Trump is taking a blowtorch to institutions, and we are for effectively changing institutions.” (David Brooks, "The Democrats’ Problems Are Bigger Than You Think," The New York Times, the 5th of June 2025).
Why I Remain Hopeful About America and Liberalism
At its core, liberalism functions as a framework for navigating the world through a specific emotional perspective: a commitment to kindness towards oneself and others. Much like love in our personal experiences, this philosophy is fluid rather than static, perpetually shifting to meet the changing requirements and aspirations of our individual lives and the wider global community. Whenever a conflict arises between self-interest and our devotion to others—such as my current dilemma where I wish to stay at my desk while my son asks to play outside—we maintain our human essence by constantly questioning our motives: Is my path guided by love? Am I staying true to my own identity while honouring those I value? Liberalism demands this same rigorous introspection.
While love can morph into its opposite—I yell at my son sometimes, convinced that it's for his own good—prioritising it as a central tenet and resisting the pull of cynicism makes choosing this constructive mindset and its associated virtues, such as patience, generosity, and temperance, a remarkably successful approach for both individual survival and shared prosperity. Just as the enduring nature of love in our private lives is, liberalism is destined to continually transform and adjust, as it has across the centuries. And that makes me hopeful for its and America's future.
I am deeply grateful to this nation, which has welcomed millions of immigrants like myself with genuine warmth, and I wish it a joyous 250th anniversary!