O O Ø O O O O
The Freest Man Who Ever Lived
Late last Wednesday, my hero died.
Harry Browne, libertarian thinker, best-selling author, radio host, two-time American presidential candidate—and my personal hero—succumbed at the age of 72 to Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis (ALS), Lou Gehrig’s disease. He had been afflicted for less than a year.
I was introduced to Harry—his on-air personality was so effusive and welcoming that I can only think of him by his first name—by my father when I was a teenager. He seemed a kook, having written books with titles such as How You Can Profit from the Coming Devaluation, and How I Found Freedom in an Unfree World, but those titles seemed auspicious of someone who might have something to say.
The second of these books, Freedom, took me several tries to get through, as it presented some reasonably precipitous philosophical challenges. I eventually made the breakthrough (¡Lo tengo! No one owes me anything.) in the summer of 1995. My life changed immediately and conclusively. Thereafter freed from the desire to change people, I met the woman who is now my wife a mere few weeks later. I know with certainty that my then-new state of mind was crucial to the foundation of our relationship.
In the intervening ten years, I have read every article Harry has published, and listened to every one of his weekly radio shows, four years of which are archived on his website. My constant companions through late studio nights at architecture school were a pair of headphones, and downloaded MP3s of theLibertarian Conversation. Harry was a true pacifist, duly counselling that government is force, and that enlightened citizens needn’t resort to this type of violence to solve their problems. As a host and writer, he was the definition of charm, courtesy, and hope. He described himself as being inflicted with chronic euphoria, combined with Pollyanna syndrome. Two years ago he declared “I am 70 years old. I hope to live another 20 or 30 years—40 if we can get rid of the FDA.” His humour and hopefulness will be missed.
Many more words are not required here, as just about every sentence I have ever written or will ever write in this space is a tribute to Harry.
Harry Browne, 1933–2006
…
Heartbroken over the loss of a man I truly loved.
Evan Spence
March 7, 2006
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