In the spring of 2001, the late William F. Buckley Jr. hosted a dinner at his New York apartment, inviting a group of over 20 people. He insisted that I sit next to him, and we engaged in discussions about various topics, including Elvis Presley, capital punishment, and the contentious issue of when life begins. Buckley’s eyes sparkled with enthusiasm, and laughter filled the room. At that time, I was a new associate editor at National Review, working in the magazine’s emerging online division. As a Canadian, I was seen as an intriguing addition to the editorial team, led by editor-in-chief Rich Lowry. The team was curious about Canada and how its liberal policies might influence the United States.

During the lead-up to the 2016 U.S. presidential election, National Review positioned itself as a significant intellectual counter to Donald Trump’s MAGA movement. The magazine became a refuge for ideologues who had spent years debating the merits of Reaganite small government and neoconservative principles. This raises the question: Are there still ideologues like this today? Being an ideologue involves a commitment to one’s beliefs, but it also requires a willingness to critically examine one’s own ideas and engage with opposing viewpoints.

Charlie Kirk, like Buckley, exemplified this kind of ideologue. He was wary of the false comfort that comes from consensus and adept at challenging his opponents while learning from their responses. Kirk, along with Buckley, could humorously critique overly serious thinkers, including themselves. This ability is crucial in an era often characterized by intellectual cowardice disguised as moral certainty. Public discourse has increasingly devolved into tribal conflicts, where complexity is seen as betrayal and nuance is dismissed as weakness.

The shift from rigorous ideologues to performative partisanship has been notable. Buckley recognized that genuine conservatism—and any substantial political philosophy—necessitates ongoing intellectual engagement, not just with adversaries but with ideas themselves. He fostered a movement that thrived on debate, creating spaces where disagreement was not only accepted but celebrated. National Review did not merely oppose 1960s liberalism; it engaged with it, resulting in a stronger ideological foundation.

Both the progressive left and certain factions on the right have fallen into traps of ideological purity, often abandoning core principles for populist approval. This trend reflects a broader failure to embrace the spirit of inquiry that Buckley championed. He believed that ceasing to question one’s beliefs leads to intellectual stagnation. The real issue is not the existence of disagreement—disagreement is fundamental to democracy—but rather the loss of the ability to engage in constructive discourse.

We have strayed from the practice of intellectual generosity, often resorting to misrepresenting opponents’ arguments instead of understanding them. The volume of our discourse has been mistaken for virtue, and we have lost sight of our place in the vast universe. Buckley’s dinner gatherings served as a forum for diverse perspectives, where liberals and conservatives, hawks and doves, believers and skeptics could interact without sacrificing their humanity. He demonstrated that one could hold firm beliefs while remaining open-minded, fighting for one’s convictions while engaging thoughtfully with differing views.