As someone who spent twenty-one years helping build the Free State Project—from volunteering at PorcFest in 2006 to triggering the Move and later serving as President and Board Chair—I have always believed liberty is not just about moving to New Hampshire. It is about what kind of people move here and what kind of culture we build once we arrive.
The original vision was wonderfully unfashionable: attract people committed to property rights, voluntary cooperation, and personal responsibility. Not Republicans. Not Democrats. Not “Big L” Libertarians. Mostly a Ron Paul, “It’s Happening” flavor. But not tribes. Not teams. Not left or right. Just individuals willing to live free and let others do the same.
We deliberately stepped over the culture-war trenches because we were trying to build something rarer: a high-trust society.
Today, that vision is under strain. Not just from Concord. Not just from The Swamp HQ. Those remain constant threats. But from within.
A pattern of low-trust behavior has taken root in parts of our ecosystem. The question we must ask, plainly and without tribal loyalty, is this: Can certain individuals reliably demonstrate self-mastery, own their risks and costs, and contribute to predictable high-trust norms?
The honest answer, based on observable patterns, is No.
And the silent majority of Free Staters knows it.
The Low-Trust Tactics Eroding Our Project
First, external locus of control and accountability avoidance.
Too often, we see individuals who loudly claim credit for every success—”Look at our growing numbers!” “The movement is stronger than ever!”—while reflexively blaming others for every failure, controversy, or scandal.
When public brawls break out in parking lots, when convention behavior crosses obvious lines, or when provocative rhetoric creates unnecessary conflict and reputational damage, the response is rarely sober self-examination. Instead, the excuses arrive on schedule: “The leftists started it.” “The victim was behaving badly.” “Critics are just gatekeepers trying to tear us down.”
The pattern is remarkably consistent: victories belong to the bold leader; problems belong to everyone else.
But high-trust societies depend on the opposite instinct.
In a high-trust culture, people ask, “What role did I play?” before asking who else to blame. They own costs as readily as they claim benefits. They understand that leadership is not merely collecting credit when things go right; it is accepting responsibility when things go wrong.
What we are seeing today is not accountability.
It is outsourcing consequences while harvesting praise. It’s deflection, victimhood, and demands for loyalty over demands for correction.
Two, motte-and-bailey tactics.
Named after the medieval castle design, a motte-and-bailey argument works like this: Make a provocative or controversial claim that generates attention and recruits followers, then retreat to a much more defensible position when challenged.
One day the message is: “Women should not vote.”
When criticized, it suddenly becomes: “I’m merely discussing historical voting systems and the flaws of democracy.”
One day the rhetoric is aggressive traditionalism.
The next day it becomes: “I’m just advocating personal responsibility.”
One day the language is deliberately provocative.
The next day, anyone who objects is accused of being unable to tolerate free speech.
The game is simple: Advance the controversial position for the benefits it brings — attention, recruitment, status, and in-group applause — then retreat to the reasonable-sounding position when pressure mounts. Once the heat dies down, return to the provocative claim and repeat the cycle.
This tactic is especially corrosive because it allows someone to enjoy the rewards of both positions while accepting the costs of neither. They harvest the energy of radicalism while hiding behind the respectability of moderation whenever convenient.
High-trust societies cannot function this way. Trust depends on clarity and predictability. People need to know what you actually believe, what standards you actually hold, and whether those standards apply equally to everyone — friends and critics alike.
High-trust societies are not built on universal agreement. They are built on reliability. You know people will keep their word. You know they will own their mistakes. You know disputes will be handled proportionally rather than emotionally. When principles shift depending on whose side is under scrutiny, predictability collapses. And when predictability collapses, trust quickly follows.
Third, outrage-driven reasoning.
We did not move to New Hampshire to recreate the manufactured digital rage machine IRL.
Yet some people treat every disagreement as an opportunity for escalation, provocation, and public meltdown. They feed on drama because drama generates attention. Dopamine addiction is real.
Builders don’t have time for permanent outrage.
Outrage does not fix a fence. It does not balance a budget. It does not raise a child. It does not build a parallel institution.
The silent majority watches this spectacle with a mixture of disgust, embarrassment, and exhaustion.
Fourth, character erosion.
We once judged people by their actions, consistency, and ability to keep their word.
Now some demand we overlook patterns of poor impulse control, brand misappropriation, and institutional damage because someone is “based” or “owns the libs.”
Character is not optional in a high-trust society.
It is the prerequisite.
Finally, responsibility laundering.
This may be the most corrosive tactic of all.
Attract passionate but unstable people with radical messaging in private channels. Hand them off to volunteers who do the real work of welcoming and integrating newcomers. Celebrate the growth in public. Then, when the inevitable downside arrives, wash your hands and declare it somebody else’s problem.
That is not leadership.
It is parasitism on the efforts of better people.
The Silent Majority Must Unite
I have spoken with thousands of Free Staters over the years.
Most are not terminally online.
They are busy raising children, starting businesses, building homesteads, serving on local boards, teaching classes, hosting meetups, fixing roofs, growing food, feeding their chickens, and generally doing the unglamorous work that makes living in freedom real.
They are builders.
Builders do not spend their days manufacturing outrage because outrage does not produce anything worth having.
And increasingly, these builders are tired.
Tired of the drama.
Tired of the excuses.
Tired of being told that obvious bad behavior must be tolerated because someone is supposedly helping “the cause.”
No cause survives long when character becomes optional.
The people who moved here for liberty in our lifetime did not relocate to New Hampshire for parking lot fights, convention slap videos, endless feuds, or online circus acts.
They came here to build something.
And they have.
Choosing the Society We Want
High-trust societies do not emerge by accident.
They emerge when enough people decide that character matters.
That keeping your word matters.
That owning your mistakes matters.
That self-mastery matters.
Liberty was never supposed to be an excuse to behave badly.
Liberty is what becomes possible when enough people behave well without being forced.
The answer is not anger. The answer is standards.
Demand better recruitment.
Insist on character as a filter.
Reward accountability.
Build parallel institutions that reward self-mastery instead of outrage.
Exit the attention economy. Yes, I mean, PUT DOWN YOUR PHONE.
Focus on what works: strong property rights, voluntary cooperation, personal responsibility, and neighbors who can trust one another.
We already know how to build the New Hampshire we came here for.
We have done it before.
We can do it again.
The question is whether we will reward the builders or subsidize the wreckers with our attention.
The choice is ours.
Let us choose character over clout.
Let us choose accountability over excuses.
Let us choose the high-trust society we actually moved here to create.
Live free or die—starting with how we live among ourselves.