“I was searching for the nature of evil. I think I’ve come close to defining it: a lack of empathy. It’s the one characteristic that connects all the defendants. A genuine incapacity to feel with their fellow man. Evil, I think, is the absence of empathy.” – GM Gilbert, chief psychologist at the Nuremberg trials
Neoconservatives in American politics have developed a reputation for targeting their ideological opponents with an unrelenting style often described as “owning the libs.” This phrase captures the aggressive impulse to deliver rhetorical takedowns, score points in public debates, and celebrate perceived victories over liberals.
Despite varying degrees of intensity, the phenomenon draws from a common set of impulses that shape neoconservative attitudes. These motivations range from a desire for revenge over perceived slights to a propensity for black-and-white thinking that leaves little room for nuanced reflection.
Observers note how aggression, flawed reasoning, desperation, and slavish devotion to authority figures all coalesce into a political mindset where humiliating opponents is prioritized over pursuing reasoned discourse.
At the root of this drive to dominate opponents is a lingering desire for revenge. Starting in the late 1980s, influential media figures such as Rush Limbaugh and, later, entire networks like Fox News, focused on so-called “culture wars.”
Their programming highlighted cases of “political correctness” that, they argued, targeted conservatives as racist or bigoted. Viewers who tuned in from smaller communities, where local traditions could differ from cosmopolitan norms, felt personally attacked by these examples.
Many had grown up as high achievers in sports or community leadership and perceived criticisms of racism or sexism as personal insults. They viewed liberal voices as the real aggressors, painting them as elites who belittled conservative culture. In that context, any perceived slight demanded payback. Revenge became integral to political identity.
Such outlooks intertwine with a starkly black-and-white style of thinking. Many neoconservatives come from a religious tradition — often evangelical Christianity — that prizes absolute moral certainties. These beliefs sometimes position “moral relativism” as the chief menace to society.
Everything outside the recognized moral framework becomes suspect, with liberalism singled out as fundamentally wrong. This all-or-nothing approach leads to an automatic assumption that if conservatives consider themselves right, liberals must be wrong about every aspect of social or economic policy.
Slogans like “liberalism is a mental illness” reflect a refusal to entertain nuance or complexity. Once an idea sounds correct on the surface, further thought is discouraged. The perceived duty is to uphold the initial verdict, declaring all opposing views inherently mistaken.
The inclination toward meanness deepens these dynamics. Neoconservative rhetoric often focuses on resisting government directives and defending the right to personal freedoms, even when such freedoms risk harming public welfare. The conversation around pandemic measures, for instance, saw public health guidelines dismissed as tyrannical impositions.
Supporters championed the right to ignore mandates, including those aimed at saving lives. Embedded in such stances is a vision of the individual standing firm against any collective responsibility. Some see suffering as a means of building character, and they grow skeptical of social programs that alleviate hardship.
From this vantage point, anyone challenging that worldview risks encountering open hostility. Insults and confrontations become the default mode of communication, where “owning” an opponent equates to showcasing mental or moral toughness.
A glaring lack of facility with logic and reasoning further contributes to these confrontations. Logical fallacies abound in political discourse across the ideological spectrum, but neoconservative rhetoric often stands out for its reliance on faulty analogies, straw-man arguments, hasty generalizations, and a general disregard for context.
It is not unusual to find corners of the right-wing equating modest proposals for gun regulations with totalitarian oppression, or conflating a single extremist incident on the left with an imagined norm of liberal behavior. By portraying fringe examples as mainstream, they dismiss entire movements on the basis of outliers.
A person might, for example, highlight a single instance of a college student protesting a perceived microaggression, then claim that all liberals fixate solely on pronouns. This approach forecloses real discussion by erecting oversimplifications that, for committed neoconservatives, suffice as evidence of liberal hypocrisy. Facts that might counter these narratives are often waved away as part of an elaborate scheme to discredit them.
Desperation factors in when logic fails and outside evidence challenges these beliefs. In an era of overwhelming information, it is easy for individuals to double down on questionable positions if they feel threatened by complex scientific findings or shifting cultural norms.
As that threat perception grows, so does the impulse to deflect criticism through “whataboutism.”
Instead of defending a policy or premise on its merits, the speaker pivots to a scandal or failing – real or imagined – on the other side. In everyday interaction, it sounds like a child caught misbehaving who protests, “Yes, but my sibling did something worse!”
This tactic spares them from the difficult task of reconciling contradictory evidence. Engaging with neoconservatives thus becomes an exercise in chasing tangential accusations or in addressing half-formed conspiracies, with little chance to examine the original issue. Accusations about the number of “genders liberals believe in” may surface when the actual topic is climate change, in a transparent bid to redirect attention.
Such desperation reveals a dilemma: many adherents have pinned their worldview to ideas that deny basic scientific consensus on climate issues or the complexities of public health. Retreating from those convictions would entail acknowledging fundamental errors. That thinking discourages such admissions, creating a climate in which supporters lash out rather than re-examine their stance.
The result is a defensive posture that depends on constant deflection, mocking perceived liberal tropes, or branding critics as naive. Even if new data emerges — say, about rising global temperatures or the efficacy of vaccines — admitting fault means stepping outside the comfort zone of ideological absolutes.
Another central factor is the propensity to follow leaders slavishly. Neoconservatives often express unwavering deference to figures they perceive as authority, be it a radio personality, a popular television host, or a politician. This dynamic reached its zenith with Donald Trump, whose unfiltered style resonated with those yearning for direct confrontation with political opponents.
Whenever he espoused questionable claims — from defending unverified cures to making inaccurate statements about fighter jets — his base seemed disinclined to question or critique him. Instead, supporters rushed to label any fact-checking as “fake news,” showing how a slavish devotion to leadership can override basic critical thinking. The goal becomes preserving the leader’s credibility at all costs, because admitting a leader’s flaws would imply acknowledging that the entire moral framework might be flawed as well.
These elements combine to sustain the fervor for “owning the libs.” The phrase itself highlights an eagerness to pounce on perceived vulnerabilities in liberal positions, often focusing on straw-man caricatures. A conversation about inclusive bathroom policies might devolve into jokes about liberals allegedly believing in dozens of genders.
A discussion on climate change might transform into a barrage of deflections about personal carbon footprints or accusations that progressives want to dismantle capitalism altogether. By turning policy debates into comedic zingers, neoconservatives avoid deeper exploration of the moral or practical questions at hand. Instead, each exchange becomes an occasion for point-scoring, ensuring that self-reflection never occurs.
Observers suggest that this reflexive combat stems from underlying grievances. By presenting themselves as cultural victims, these conservatives interpret any push for social change as an affront. For instance, a call to curb racist language can feel, to them, like an accusation that they personally are racists.
Major media outlets feed this narrative by spotlighting rare cases of extreme “political correctness,” offering them as proof that liberals seek to shame or censor ordinary people. These anecdotes stoke indignation, reinforcing the sense that conservatives are under constant attack and must retaliate. Outrage becomes addictive: the more it flares, the more it validates the belief that retribution is necessary.
Critics argue this outlook constrains American politics by discouraging compromise. Instead of examining policy nuance, the question of whether background checks on firearms might reduce mass shootings while respecting gun rights — the discussion degenerates into hyperbole. Concessions become unthinkable, as any acceptance of nuance might appear to betray the worldview of moral absolutes. Debates revolve around ridiculing the other side’s purported extremes, leaving everyday citizens stranded when seeking pragmatic solutions.
Long-term, these impulses risk alienating younger generations or those who drift away from harsh ideological commitments. Individuals who once identified as conservative but reconsidered their stances often cite exhaustion with belligerent discourse or a realization that some basic facts cannot be explained away.
They mention feeling stifled by a movement that demands ideological purity, frowns upon curiosity, and reflexively dismisses scientific and academic input. Still, the subculture of “owning the libs” remains potent in certain circles, sustained by a feedback loop of talk radio, social media, and cable commentary that reaffirms the narrative of a besieged majority fighting back.
Efforts to break through this mindset often falter. Nuance rarely persuades those entrenched in such thinking, and appeals to empathy mean little to individuals who see empathy itself as a sign of weakness or moral compromise. Constructive dialogue runs aground on distrust of any source deemed mainstream or suspect. The reliance on “whataboutism” ensures each conversation shifts away from the original subject. Unless a personal crisis forces a re-evaluation of deeply held convictions, many remain resolute in their viewpoint, anchored by the impulse to “win” at all costs.
Some moderates and independents question how to move forward in a polarized climate. They observe that bridging divides requires a willingness to step beyond antagonistic barbs and rhetorical shortcuts. That shift, however, appears elusive if fundamental elements — like the desire for revenge, black-and-white thinking, aggression, deficient reasoning, desperation, and unwavering devotion to certain leaders — remain in place. The cycle of mutual hostility may continue, especially if political figures profit from perpetuating these grievances.
Ultimately, “owning the libs” represents more than a catchphrase. It reflects a defensive posture grounded in perceived moral absolutes and fueled by resentment. It thrives on derision of any perceived weakness or contradiction on the other side. And the more that approach is rewarded, the more deeply it becomes embedded in the cultural and political landscape, guaranteeing that rational compromise remains elusive.
© Photo
Ted Shaffrey (AP) and Ben Von Klemperer (via Shutterstock)
