Joe Carter is a nice guy, and a long-time internet-friend, so I will address his question on what might make for a Christian libertarian, where "Christian" is seriously meant and "libertarian" isn't just another way of saying "conservative."

To begin: a libertarian or classical liberal is going to be concerned with what are called "threats to liberty"--anything that might impinge on someone's ability to do what they want. Since Christians do have a moral code which places some limitations on the ability to do whatever one wants, there might seem to be an obvious contradiction here. But there need not be.

Threats to liberty come from one of two sources: government ("coercion") and non-governmental social organizations ("domination"). Protestants with a sense of history should be very much on board the non-domination project, whether that's the domination of the Catholic Church against rival forms of Christianity, or something that first pricked the consciences of evangelical Protestants like the slave trade. Even if one is not particularly concerned about either of those in the present day, it doesn't require much imagination to see how similar issues might pose a problem. As for coercion, I presume anyone who objects to limitations on religious liberty can see how that will be an issue.

At this point I think the minimum bar for libertarianism has been cleared. One may skew out of libertarianism and into liberalism or conservatism by deciding that in certain instances domination or coercion may be justified if the goods in question are important enough; without leaving the camp of classical liberalism broadly considered one might lean left or right (it's a big tent).

What of that moral code? I think the answer here has to be something like: the process of change in the world, if it's going to happen at all, is the long-term mission of the church through the action of individuals, whose purpose is to work towards the eventual changing of the world, but freely, and primarily on the individual level. The state is such a blunt force that its use has to be reserved only for cases that won't ever change otherwise.

This is not a camp I'm entirely within, myself. But I know people who are in it and are seriously committed to both libertarianism and Christianity, and I do hope they succeed.

Credit where due: these are some pretty good reflections on the (terrible) Lou Reed-Metallica album and What It All Means:

As a rule, we're always supposed to applaud the collapse of the record industry. We are supposed to feel good about the democratization of music and the limitless palette upon which artists can now operate. But that collapse is why Lulu exists. If we still lived in the radio prison of 1992, do you think Metallica would purposefully release an album that no one wants? No way. Cliff Burnstein from Q Prime Management would listen to their various ideas, stroke his white beard, and deliver the following 45-second pep talk: "OK, great. Love these concepts. Your allusion to Basquiat's middle period was very apt, Lars. Incisive! But here's our situation. If you guys spend two months writing superfast Diamond Head songs about nuclear winter and shape-shifting, we can earn $752 million in 18 months, plus merchandizing. That's option A. The alternative is that you can make a ponderous, quasi-ironic art record about 'the lexicon of hate' that will outrage the Village Voice and mildly impress Laurie Anderson. Your call." Ten minutes later, Bob Rock would be parking his Lexus at the studio. Which is not to say that musicians should reflexively adhere to the static desires of their fan base, because that's bad, too; on a personal level, I'm glad Metallica and Reed tried this, if only because I'm always a fan of bad ideas. They've earned the right to overreach. But if the fundamental goal of Metallica is to make good music, it seems like trying to get rich while doing so dramatically improves their creative process. The constraints of late capitalism really work for them; they're extraordinarily adept at making electrifying heavy rock that's designed to generate revenue. The reason Lulu is so terrible is because the people making this music clearly don't care if anyone else enjoys it. Now, here again — if viewed in a vacuum — that sentiment is admirable and important. But we don't live in a vacuum. We live on Earth. And that means we have to accept the real-life consequences of a culture in which recorded music no longer has monetary value, and one of those consequences is Lulu.

When I awoke yesterday morning, I immediately read a few online stories (including one on this very website) attempting to debunk the "myth" of Tim Tebow's win over the Miami Dolphins. The alleged "myth" is that everyone erroneously believes that Tebow is a great pro quarterback. In truth, this notion is neither myth nor reality — no one who follows football thinks Tebow is anything other than who he is. There are people who love his ability to succeed despite his mechanical problems, and there are those who adore him as a symbol, and there are those who think it's exciting that someone can win NFL games in nontraditional ways, and there are others who dislike him because he's the highest-profile Christian in a Christocentric landscape, and there are many who are sick of hearing his name 200 times a day, and there are a few who believe criticizing Tebow somehow makes them more sophisticated. But you simply don't find intelligent people who are confused about his actual ability, if only because those qualities are discussed and analyzed endlessly. The only myth about Tim Tebow is that the public is somehow ill-informed about his strengths and weaknesses; it's a myth that exists only so that critics can point out how it isn't valid. And this type of straw man construction happens all the time. For much of my life, I lived under the myth that record labels were inherently evil. I was ceaselessly reminded that corporate forces stopped artists from doing what they truly desired; they pushed musicians toward predictable four-minute radio singles and frowned upon innovation, and they avariciously tried to turn art into a soulless commodity that MTV could sell to the lowest common denominator. And that did happen, sometimes. But some artists need that, or they end up making albums like this.

It's a little strange to read because, though I grew up on punk and its rejection of a lot of the mainstream, the record industry was never really a part of that. Everybody who follows these things knows that the endless stream of excellent singles by The Rolling Stones, the Beatles, the Kinks and others was because they were contractually obligated to put out singles at a high rate. So also the Brill Building and Motown (and, funny thing about that: if you listen to the Complete Motown Singles from any year, you realize that most of their songs were pretty mediocre. but writing and releasing at such a high rate, they therefore had a correspondingly high number of really excellent songs. history tends to be kind and forget your mediocrity in favor of your genius). All the proto-punks and punks were on major labels: boutique labels, to be sure, but the MC5 and the Stooges were on Elektra, Patti Smith was on Arista, etc etc. The move to a major label doesn't aquire any real stigma until the 80s, but, Our Band Could Be Your Life notwithstanding, almost every band that could jump to a major did--R.E.M., Sonic Youth, Husker Du, the Replacements. There were nothing but upsides to it.

As much as I dislike the 'liberty within limits' idea, there's something to be said for the idea that the restraint imposed by the record-buying public had a salutary effect on music, provided there were also smaller and regional outlets that could accommodate everyone else's tastes.