As a constitutional conservative, I spend much of my time exposing the left’s excesses, its cancel culture, its disdain for free speech, and its obsession with identity politics. But intellectual honesty demands that we turn the mirror on our own side as well.
If we claim to stand for principles, not just partisan victories, then we must be willing to confront the uncomfortable truth: the right, too, is guilty of double standards.
Free Speech for Me, Not for Thee
Conservatives are right to denounce the left for silencing dissenting voices. Yet, some on the right are just as quick to embrace censorship when it suits them. We rail against Big Tech’s content moderation, but cheer when state governments move to ban books, restrict what can be taught in classrooms, or even punish private companies for political disagreements. The principle of free expression should not change depending on whether the speech offends left-wing sensibilities or right-wing ones.
And let’s be blunt: it would be hypocritical of me not to call out what we’re seeing right now in the wake of Charlie Kirk’s assassination. Many on the right, who never tire of whining about “cancel culture,” are now reveling in it—cheering when leftists lose jobs, smirking when people are blacklisted, and congratulating cowardly corporate bosses who fire employees just to appease a mob.
BTW: It is not traditionally “cancel culture” if your employer chooses not to employ a person who offends their sensibilities, brings unwanted attention to their business, or results in adverse publicity.
This is the exact same behavior we condemn on the left. It is the same playbook: punish speech, silence dissent, and destroy livelihoods to enforce ideological conformity. We conservatives claim to believe in liberty, but when we clap for cancellations that benefit our side, we prove we don’t care about liberty at all; we just want to decide who gets silenced. At that point, the right is no better than the left. In fact, we become indistinguishable.
And here’s the truth: I want leftists to speak. I want them to expose themselves. Every vile tweet celebrating Kirk’s death, every gleeful Facebook post mocking tragedy, every smug remark dripping with hatred, these reveal the moral bankruptcy of their ideology. When we join the mob and muzzle them, we rob the American people of seeing their ugliness laid bare. Their speech condemns them, not us. Our censorship condemns us.
Limited Government, Except When We Want It Big
The right champions limited government, lower taxes, and less regulation. But that tune changes when conservative leaders see an opportunity to use government power for their own ends. Calls for boycotts, loyalty oaths, or economic punishment against corporations that don’t toe the line sound eerily similar to the tactics of the left. Government is either too powerful to be trusted—or it isn’t. We can’t pretend it’s dangerous only when Democrats are wielding it.
Moral Outrage as a Political Weapon
Conservatives often mock the left’s moral grandstanding, yet we fall into the same trap. Outrage is a currency, and too many on the right spend it recklessly, condemning opponents for behavior we quietly excuse in our own camp. Whether it’s family values, fiscal responsibility, or foreign policy consistency, our credibility evaporates when we demand one standard for our enemies and another for our allies.
Hypocrisy Weakens the Cause
The danger of double standards is not just moral but strategic. If we abandon principle in pursuit of short-term victories, we hand the left ammunition. Worse, we erode the very constitutional and cultural foundations we claim to defend. A movement that preaches liberty but practices control, or that demands accountability only of its opponents, cannot endure.
Holding Ourselves to Higher Ground
Being a conservative should mean something more than just opposing the left. It should mean fidelity to enduring principles: free speech, limited government, individual responsibility, and equal justice under the law. If we are to restore these values in American life, we must first live them ourselves—even when it is inconvenient, even when it costs us politically.
What Would Charlie Do?
One of the most striking lessons from Charlie Kirk’s life is his ability to engage, even embrace, those with whom he disagreed. Instead of silencing critics or punishing those who opposed him, Kirk often used their words as an opportunity to teach, to challenge, and to clarify his own principles. He understood that confrontation is not the same as cancellation.
Where many on the right today see disagreement as an invitation to attack, mock, or destroy reputations, Kirk saw it as a chance to illuminate truth. Every harsh critique, every hostile tweet, every misguided commentary was a potential “teaching moment” for the wider audience, and for those willing to listen. He demonstrated that strong convictions do not require crushing dissent—they require engaging with it thoughtfully, even when it is uncomfortable.
Kirk’s approach serves as a stark contrast to the current trend on the right: the revelry over job losses, the applause for cowardly bosses who fire employees, the rush to silence rather than to reason. The question conservatives should ask themselves is simple: What would Charlie do? Would he join the mob, or would he stand firm in principle, using disagreement not as a weapon, but as a tool for education and enlightenment?
In an era where cancel culture and hypocrisy dominate both sides of the aisle, remembering Kirk’s example reminds us that true conservatism is rooted in courage, consistency, and the ability to rise above pettiness.
Bottom Line
The choice before the right is clear: we can continue down the road of selective outrage, double standards, and public shaming, or we can stand for the principles we claim to defend. Liberty is not a convenient tool to wield against our enemies; it is a sacred trust to uphold for everyone, even those we despise. If we fail, if we surrender to mob rule disguised as justice, then we are no better than the left we so loudly condemn. The question is not whether the left is wrong; it is whether we will be right.
— Steve
