In his excellent memoir, Georgetown Law Center Professor Randy Barnett reveals what he has long maintained: “There will never come a time when our liberty is permanently secured, but there may well come a time when our liberty is permanently lost.”

A Life for Liberty: The Making of an American Originalist, by Randy Barnett (635 pages, Encounter Books, 2024)

Let’s begin at the end. On the very last page of this combined memoir/recent Supreme Court history/advice book, Georgetown Law Center Professor Randy Barnett finally reveals what he has “long maintained.” And here it is: “There will never come a time when our liberty is permanently secured, but there may well come a time when our liberty is permanently lost.”

A self-described libertarian, Barnett has lived his personal and professional lives to help maintain the security of that which is never permanently secured, while remaining forever vigilant about the possibility of its permanent loss.

The key word in both paragraphs is derived from what might be regarded as the key word in the Declaration of Independence: “secure,” as in governments are created to “secure” our “unalienable rights.” Yes, governments themselves can be created, but governments so created do not then create rights. And they especially do not create “unalienable rights.”

To be sure, some governments have leaders who presume that they have the right, nay the obligation, to create rights. More often than not, such governments turn out to be the very same governments that are bent on advancing the day when our true liberty, namely our once “unalienable” liberty, will be permanently lost.

But pay no attention to me. After all, I am a law school dropout of long ago—and of Georgetown Law Center, no less. Instead, pay attention to the good professor—and to this wonderful, if very unprofessorial “reckoning,” which is the very word Barnett employs to characterize this book, as well as the very last word in it.

Written with both law school dropouts and graduates in mind, as well as both the ordinary citizen and the most—or least—esteemed of his colleagues, whether they be allies or adversaries, it’s no wonder that the final result is a tome that can serve simultaneously as a door-stopper and an eye-opener. It’s also a tome that is an absolute delight. There is neither a dull nor an esoteric page in it.

The opening pages threaten to head into the constitutional weeds over the issue of growing marijuana for one’s personal and medicinal use. But after establishing his standing as a libertarian, Barnett escapes the weeds by way of retreating to his growing up years in Calumet City, Illinois, just south of Chicago and right on the Indiana border.

Raised in a mostly, but not resolutely, secular Jewish home, young Randy Barnett had a mostly “wonder years”-like youth. We get a full taste of both the ordinariness and the excitement of it. The key figure was his father, an independent businessman and a thoroughgoing contrarian. There would then be little doubt in his son’s mind as to the ultimate source of his own libertarian-minded contrarianism.

There was also little doubt in the son’s mind that schooling and studying were important. But it was music that taught him that it was not just important, but possibly even virtuous, to commit oneself to excelling at something positive and good. In addition, both the classroom and the band room taught him how important mentors could be. He had one in each sphere in high school, as well as more than a few in college, law school and beyond. More than that, this mentee learned this lesson and its importance so well that he has understood how important it has been for him to become a mentor himself. In fact, this book of reckoning serves as a kind of public mentorship all its own.

That could mean mentorship on just how to be a good contrarian. For that matter, it could also mean how to be both a good guy and a good contrarian. To be sure, Barnett has never been a contrarian simply for the sake of being a contrarian. His contrarianism has long been for the sake of his libertarianism, which itself has been grounded in his never-ending search for what he refers to as the Lost Constitution.

In other words, his commitment to constitutional originalism and libertarianism dovetail nicely with one another and thoroughly reinforce one another. As such, he knows that he is in a distinct, but far from extinct, minority within the academic sphere of the legal profession. He also knows that he cannot and will not surrender the fight against no longer “liberal,” but “progressive” professors who remain committed to something they still fondly call the “living Constitution.”

Not all that long ago the “living Constitution” was regarded as nothing less than conventional wisdom. At the same time, not all that long ago something called libertarianism was regarded as one step removed from somewhere near the edge of the kookie right wing fringe. All of that has changed, thanks in no small way to Professor Barnett.

To be sure, he has not been alone in this fight, but this memoir stands alone as the testimony of a major academic player to the importance of this fight, as well as to its frustrations. One of Barnett’s most compelling frustrations has been the charge that those of his persuasion are violating precedent and engaging in judicial activism by calling for constitutional originalism. Curious, isn’t it, that those who were using the “living Constitution” to legislate from the bench either then defended judicial activism or denied that that was what they were doing.

Barnett has not been reluctant to fight this fight on a variety of fronts, including movie-making. But for the most part he has stayed in his lane by way of producing both scholarship and his own corral of mentees—mentees who have become or will become mentors of their own. Nor is he at all reluctant in this memoir to shy away from revealing his own ambitions as he climbed his way up the academic ladder.

While direct politicking has never been a primary front for Professor Barnett, he did sign on for and work to advance the 2016 presidential campaign of Rand Paul. In the end this law school professor did the same thing that this law school dropout did, namely cast a reluctant vote for Donald Trump. And, like this law school dropout, Professor Barnett has been pleasantly surprised by the Trump presidency, including his presidential selections for the Supreme Court. Whether all three will have the gumption of Justices Clarence Thomas and Samuel Alito to withstand the attacks on them remains to be seen.

What does not remain to be seen is that Chief Justice John Roberts lacks that very gumption, overly concerned as he has been with the reputation of the court. Or should that read that he is overly concerned about the reputation of the court in the eyes of those whom he should manage to summon the gumption to offend?

Perhaps the most “in the weeds” chapters in this book concern Barnett’s participation in the Supreme Court’s hearing of and ruling on the Affordable Care Act and its mandate requiring the purchase of health insurance. Roberts saved that legislation by labeling the mandate a tax. Once again the Chief Justice demonstrated his desire to be a good guy chiefly in the eyes of the D.C. establishment.

Professor Barnett also wants to be thought of as a good guy. And this memoir is certainly testimony to that desire. But he also sees himself as a principled good guy. This memoir is solid testimony to that desire as well.

Does this principled good guy think that his side is winning? Not necessarily. But he is encouraged, both by Justice Elena Kagan’s statement/admission that “we are all originalists now” and Justice Jackson’s recent confirmation testimony regarding her own commitment to originalism. At the same time, he knows that this fight is never over—and never finally won.

He should also know that A Life for Liberty deserves its place as a primary document in this ongoing intellectual battle. And since that battle will inevitably be a political battle as well, this book ought to be read by ordinary citizens and tenured academics alike. Both will benefit from the experience. Heck, both will likely have as much fun reading this book as its author must have had while writing it. I know that I did, even though I remain convinced that I did not make a mistake many years ago by heading home to Minnesota and leaving Georgetown Law Center somewhere in the rearview mirror.

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The featured image, uploaded by Imely photography, is a photograph of Randy Barnett taken in 2022. This file is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 International license, courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.