When President Donald Trump sent National Guard troops and active-duty Marines into the streets of Los Angeles in early June, he ignited a storm of protest, not from his usual critics, but from libertarian conservatives who once applauded his anti-establishment rhetoric and limited-government promises. What they saw unfolding in Los Angeles was not a return to law and order. It was the raw projection of centralized federal power, and it struck a nerve.
Among the first to speak out was Hina Shamsi of the American Civil Liberties Union, who warned that “federal troops themselves, this is not what they’re trained for,” calling the deployment “a dangerous abuse of power” that “recklessly undermines our foundational democratic principle that the military should not police civilians.” Her words echoed beyond civil liberties circles into the libertarian right, where opposition to federal force has long been a bedrock principle. Across libertarian institutions, the outcry was swift. The Libertarian Party of California released a statement calling the action “unconstitutional” and pressed for the passage of “Defend the Guard” legislation, which would prohibit the use of state National Guard troops in federal conflicts without a formal declaration of war. The message they championed was as old as the republic: war powers belong to Congress, not the executive, a point driven home with repeated references to James Madison’s warnings about the concentration of military authority.
Online communities reflected the same sentiment. On Reddit’s r/Libertarian, a top comment read, “Trump is chaos incarnate … I see this intentional chaos as extremely anti-libertarian because of the increased government power it will inevitably cause.” The perception was not simply that Trump had overstepped but that he had transformed into precisely the kind of strongman libertarians had long feared: a populist executive willing to bypass the constitutional order in the name of security.
No sooner had that wound begun to scab than it was torn open by the news that Trump had authorized a series of targeted airstrikes on Iranian nuclear facilities in Fordow, Natanz, and Esfahan. What remained of libertarian goodwill evaporated overnight. For many, this was not a matter of disagreement; it was a betrayal. Trump had run on a platform of ending endless wars, curbing military adventurism, and restoring congressional oversight of foreign policy. Instead, they watched as he unilaterally escalated tensions with Iran without a declaration of war and without consulting Congress.
Among the loudest voices of dissent was comedian and commentator Dave Smith, who spoke bluntly on Breaking Points: “It was an absolute betrayal of everything that he ran and campaigned on.” He added that Trump should be impeached for abandoning his anti-interventionist ideals. Smith had once praised Trump for challenging the military-industrial complex, but his tone now reflected a broader disillusionment. “He lied about ending wars,” one Reddit contributor seethed. “He just reignited one.”
Libertarian scholars and thought leaders also weighed in. Scott Horton, an antiwar radio host and historian, underscored that under Murray Rothbard’s framework, military action must be defensive and strictly constrained by constitutional checks. David Boaz of the Cato Institute reminded readers that executive power must never operate in a vacuum. The legitimacy of a republic depends on the branches of government balancing each other, especially when the stakes involve military aggression abroad or the use of coercive force at home.
In the Senate, libertarian-minded Republicans voiced their alarm. Rand Paul, one of the few consistent critics of executive overreach on foreign policy, has previously condemned the strikes in Iran and warned that bypassing Congress “increases tensions” and undermines the rule of law. In fact in an interview with the Daily Signal shortly before Trump's decision to bomb Iran, Paul stated, ”will resist the calls of people wanting to bomb Tehran,” and expressed his hope to get everyone back to the negotiating table. Paul, who had defended Trump during the height of his battles with the intelligence community and the Pentagon, now appeared increasingly alienated. Senator Mike Lee, another liberty-oriented Republican, joined him in pressing the administration to respect the War Powers Resolution and seek congressional authorization before engaging in acts of war. Both men stressed that even when threats are real, the process must remain accountable, deliberate, and lawful.
Taken together, these episodes marked a turning point in the relationship between Trump and the libertarian right. Once hailed as a disruptor who might roll back decades of centralized control, Trump had become, in the eyes of many, just another executive asserting unilateral power. In domestic affairs, his use of troops against civilians recalled past abuses they had sworn to resist. In foreign affairs, his airstrikes evoked the very kind of interventionism he had pledged to dismantle.
The libertarian movement now finds itself reassessing the alliance it once formed with Trump. For many activists and strategists, the only path forward is one rooted in a strict return to constitutional restraint. No military deployments without state consent. No foreign attacks without congressional debate and approval. That is the foundation they demand, not as a political condition but as a matter of principle.
The erosion of trust has been sharp. The Libertarian Party issued statements that didn’t hedge or equivocate. The Cato Institute, long focused on civil liberties and non-interventionism, pointed repeatedly to the dangers of allowing the president to operate unchecked. Across social platforms, the tone among younger libertarians was angrier and more jaded than it had been before. Trump’s policies, once seen as a deviation from Republican orthodoxy in the right direction, now felt like a reversion to the worst instincts of centralized power.
Yet what makes this fracture distinct is that it is not rooted in partisanship or personal grievance. Libertarians have never been bound to a single party, candidate, or tribe. Their allegiance is to an idea: that power, left unchecked, constantly expands and that liberty, once lost, is rarely regained. In the Trump administration’s recent actions, they see not leadership but evidence of precisely the imperial presidency they have always feared.
As the political ground shifts once again, libertarian conservatives remain resolute. They are not spoilers or saboteurs. They are guardians of a vision of governance that limits itself, that fears its power, and that seeks peace before provocation. Whether Trump ever wins them back may be less important than what their rejection signals: that no leader, no matter how defiant or disruptive, will be followed if he walks away from liberty itself.
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